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In the Allport library of time

Submitted by vandiemenspeak on Sun, 2016-09-18 05:58

Under the soft knell
of ships bells

under the tick tick heart
of backroom clocks

you will find in there
the quietest of hells

where slow-slow reality
grinds to stop

here is the gallery
of those time-damned

ideas that flooded
and filled head piece

year upon year framed up
in guilt relief

grief upon grief
painted here then stuck

true, but solace and silence
and beauty too

You can hear the trolley wheels
squeak, overladen with books

in far off rooms, somewhere in here
my history's deposit draws looks

a million shelves in
walk through the volumes for eternity

and still never find
a way to begin

Style / type:

Free verse

Review Request (Intensity):

I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Last few words:

Been away for a while, compiling some new stuff. An impression of one of the strangest, quietest places on earth - a deserted library.

Editing stage:

Editing - draft

Comments

Vivovon

Sun, 2016-09-18 12:21

Unknown Consciousness in the library

The flow and meaning of the poem neatly fit in with the title. Am I right to link Allport to Gordon Allport, the psychologist trait theorist or it has some other facet? I have spent hours after hours in the isolated and dusty basements of the libraries in the United Kingdom, and also in the United States. The feeling is quite creepy. Yes, "never find a way to begin." I like the way you generated consciousness in the (basement) of a library.

xxxxx

vandiemenspeak

Mon, 2016-09-19 08:46

Hi Vivovon..

This Allport was actually Joseph Allport, an early colonial lawyer who came out to "Van Diemen's Land" now Tasmania, set up one of the first legal practices in Hobart town. He had a large and lustrous family, all of them very creative (Lilly Allport was a very gifted painter who later returned to England) - he was an obsessive collector, of books, porcelain, furniture, paintings - all from things that wound up washed at the bottom of the world, or otherwise from the family's travels, the collection was so large, that when the last of the Allports died off in the middle of the last century, and donated the huge collection to the Tasmanian State library, they had to set up another library, and then this huge archive building that can be viewed by appointment only, which seems to go on forever. Quite an inspiring atmosphere, see here:
https://www.facebook.com/Allport-Library-and-Museum-of-Fine-Arts-3513844...

https://www.linc.tas.gov.au/allport/Pages/Allport.aspx

Thanks and take care.

Chris.

Chris Hall - Tasmania

Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of Prince's stores and bumped them up on the brewery float. On the brewery float bumped dullthudding barrels rolled by grossbooted draymen out of Prince's stores.

author comment

Vivovon

Mon, 2016-09-19 20:59

Glad to learn

Thank you for telling me. Yes, I did have a look at the links you give me. Glad to learn something new.

xxxxx

vandiemenspeak

Mon, 2016-09-19 08:56

It is, if you're referring to..

you will find in there
the quietest of hells

where slow-slow reality
grinds to stop

Meaning a solace is found from the ordinary consciousness of the world, slowly being wound down into a slower place, and a slower pace of thinking.

Thanks for checking out.

Cheers.

Chris.

Chris Hall - Tasmania

author comment

Esker

Mon, 2016-09-19 21:43

art of artifice and arty fax

Mind candy...dry...desolate..redolent
reposed...

It must be quite the haven then
a wicked tomb
our library was built in seventies
most town expanded...moved into
modern digs when the Provincial money
flowed...On the hill at Canadore college
and Nippissing Univercity is the million'
some dollar..millions brand new modern glass
steel building.....down at Trent where a freind
of a friend was studying...Trents design was
that of some castle..Its on the river system
anyway...They had an original Oscar Wilde book
with Beardsley plates...

I hung out all the time or a lot in our school
library...Our library there was great..a reasource
library to hide away...no windows...no sense of
time...basement at our city library where I post
from during days when Im not here at the ex...
and present still old ladies...is also windowless
although its open only during some hours...
still

the true idea of a library with paintings and edifice
harkening back too the private institutions of wealth
and philanthropy...In another town was an original
front portion of a building donated by Carnegies..
Industrial Magnet who put librarys out there...Before
that Libraries were the denizen of class and money..
like private clubs! why bookshops thrived and why
people wrote books...along with the classic like today
there was the flood of dime novels and lesser
what we now call graphic novels or books to titillate
the mind and soul...

and your library in town...we hear the railroad shop
whistle....although muted..
and for the same reason U might ponder...
carts with squeaky wheels...
almost a hallmark thing...
like a protest left to squeal
a nrandishment to offset the
clocks tick or the woosh of the
air exchanger we have...
a simple drop of oil..but then..
there is something about that
laden cart making its noise...

another dimension the libraries
even the patrons..we have low
soft leatherette chairs sans arms
facing each like the hospital waiting
rooms or health clinics...so few doctors
but public libraries..Five bucks buys
a swipe card!

I love people watching...the good looking
educated women come in to settle while
their clients come too browse for the hour.
I slump on the soft chairs..legs crossed
magazine propped...its an extravagance
of time I can afford being with no trade..
no steady job...

the little dose of this hell is invigorating
too the soul...then escape...back into
the hub bub and flow of street and
weather..

thank U...the glimpse of other worlds
for sure!

thank U!

Neopoet

In the Allport library of time