Mystery Books

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Bone-chilling, spine tingling

Quivering with apprehension

Words entwined with mystery

Expressing unfathomable tension.

 

That feeling when you open

A new mystery book to read

Is it crime? Is it horror?

Worth giving any heed?

 

Gingerly open the volume

Skip the prologue (don’t we all!)

Dive into the literary goodness

Into the story our mind does crawl.

 

The crime hasn’t even occurred

But your head’s buzzing with guesses

When will the culprit be announced?

Who’ll be the one who confesses?

 

As the story goes your heart

Stops when the spooks begin

The way author writes it

Makes you witness the scene within.

 

With crazy happenings popping

Clues and hints dropped to examine

All the characters, crimes and mysteries

Into your excited brain you start cramming.

 

When the books starts to end

You reading in frozen concentration

Does the mystery be solved

Led by the story’s intuition.

 

It’s that strange tingling feeling

When the mind registers the brilliance

Of how the plot has been unfolded

Making teeth grinded by millions.

 

These clandestine secret tales

So chilling, you end with a shudder

But as your soul yearns for more

You can’t wait to dive into another.

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The Poem Of A Bookworm

books

I’m a bookworm, and indignant as well

When people rather nosily question

The point of loving books so much,

The cause of my obsession?

I used to answer, and explain to them

Why I long for those lovely stories; simple!

Yet, they must not understand,

For they recommend to me: A Kindle!

Oh yes, it has its good points, I’m sure

But I do hope you understand:

The difference between that and books

Are that of sea and land.

I’m tired of answering again and again

So I’ll jot it down in this poem

Why I love ‘em books so much

So that (no offence) you’d leave me alone.

Books, let me tell; each one is so unique!

They have that certain magic

It makes us feel we’re watching it all,

Be it happy or funny or tragic.

Oh, these memories, they really do

Seem to engrave themselves in our heart

How the characters and readers combine:

Makes us cherish each and every part.

We nod our heads with laughter

Or we sob and drop the tears

Or with delight and bated breath

As every part does so adheres.

They entwine themselves so,

Within our book-inspired dreams

We become a part of them!

Or it certainly seems!

I’d suggest, if you DON’T feel the same,

The open one; give it a try!

And experience it all yourself

As you laugh and giggle and cry.

Like if you can relate!

New Books

Hello! Sorry for posting late today. But here goes a little poem on new books, and how awesome it feels to buy them:
new book blog
NEW BOOKS

“Papa, papa, let me buy
The books there in the shop!”
Exasperated, Papa replied
“All right, I know you can’t stop.”

“KA-CHING!” Says the machine
And two minutes after that
A lovely book is in my hand
Sitting brightly whitely fat.

Once I get home I don’t
Bother to change my clothes
But jump on to my bed
Opening the book closed.

Sniff! I smell the pages
The fragrance of lovely books
“Read me!” The book cries to me
With a booky-booky look.

As I start reading, oh the joy!
The words splashing on my mind
Like waves against a sandy beach.
Words to book are destined.

I forget my dinner and my lunch
I forget everything that I once knew
For my eyes to the long pages
Are stuck to them like glue.

The book may not have pictures
But I see them in my brain
Me going down in the author’s
Worded memory lane.

Lost in a world of dream
The words wrap like a vine!
Upon the jewelled sentences
I feed upon and dine.

And when the clock ticks
And I reach the very end
It’s like the Gods of the world
Blessings to me did send.

That’s it! I hoped you liked it. I wrote another poem which I will post tomorrow. Byeee!
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Mr Popo Writes A Book

Hello my dear friends!!! Today’s post is a little poem on….that’s right, Mr Popo! If you don’t know about him, he is a regular character in tapasmi.wordpress.com . He is always filled with funny antics! Here are the links to his previous posts:

https://tapasmi.wordpress.com/2013/06/02/mr-popo-to-the-gym/
https://tapasmi.wordpress.com/2013/04/14/mr-popo/

Today’s Popo post is about Popo trying to write a book for his new job! Here goes:

Mrs Popo And Mrs Pipi

MR POPO AND MRS PIPI’S BOOKY ADVENTURE
Mrs Pipi stared at her fatty husband.
He looked rather occupied.
This was an astonishing thing indeed
So on his desk she spied:
A bunch of empty lined paper
And pens of thirty kinds
And just in case the paper tore
On his desk were kept some binds.
“Okay, Popo, tell me now,
What on EARTH are you up to?
You don’t seem great at the moment
And your mood is awfully blue.”
“Oh Pipi! I searched for a job!
And I ended up as a junior writer
I though writing would be easy
And the burden would be lighter.
But oh boy, was I wrong!
All I have done is got a lot of stuff.
I’ve acted super important and mighty
And acted as though I am bluff.
Oh, about 3% of my work is done
I filled the numbers of each page
But by the time I’ve filled them,
I’ll be million years of age.”
Mrs Pipi sighed and laughed.
She was used to Popo’s silly habits
And she knew when he got into them
He’d be jumpier than some rabbits.
“Oh Popo, I see your dilemma,
But I think we can the situation pass,
But before we start together,
I’ll get you some water in a glass.”
“Oh you needn’t, dear Pipi,
You see I spent more of my time
In preparing in beginning to write
Than really writing a dime.
I got fifty back up paper-sheets
And bottles of back-up ink
And a glass of water as well
If I felt I needed a sleepy wink.”
“Oh God! My hubby dearest,
Fine. Just drink it up quick!
And then I’ll call up your writer boss
For with him I have bone to pick.”
“A BONE? MRS PIPI, NO!
ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO KILL?
OKAY, HE MIGHT BE BOSSY,
BUT YOU CANT DEADIFY HIM, STILL!”
Mrs Pipi did a loud face palm,
Sighed twice and to him said,
“I see why you aren’t a writer.
This way, I want YOU dead!”
And so she called the Mr Boss,
And asked him what Popo could write,
And Mr Boss said if not a story,
Someone else’s poems would be right.
“Copying? Of course not, Mr Boss!
That’s just cruel and WRONG!
That’s just plain cheating
And meant for the un-strong!”
Mr Boss laughed and replied,
“No, Mrs Pipi! That isn’t what I mean!
He can just compile some poems
Not as a writer, but as a compiler he’d be seen!”
Then Mrs Pipi understood just then
And quickly bid goodbye,
And told Mr Popo of the idea
And this was his reply:
“But Pipi, whose poems can I compile?
I don’t know too many writer guys!”
But Mrs Pipi had a great idea
And she said the word of the wise:
“How about that youth Tapasmi?
The one who writes about you?
You’re always flattered about her
‘Mr Popo’ poems do!
“What a great idea Mrs Pipi!”
Popo hugged Pipi who was surprised
But she smiled anyways at Popo,
The fat man, short-sized.
And so the two set the work
And collected all poems of Popo
And with the motivation of energy drinks
They were quite soon on the go.
The next day at work Popo
Had a super compilation to submit
To Mr Boss the next day at work
And the compilation was a hit!
It was soon published with
‘Mr Popo’ stamped across the front
And Mr Boss and little Pipi
Were pleased with the stunt.
And so now you know of the little time
When Popo with his wife
To write a book of poems
Together did he strive.
And I, being Tapasmi,
Am flatter Popo chose me,
So I’ll keep on writing about him,
Soon, I know you’ll see.