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In my youth, I'd often read
The novels of other men,
That told the glorious deeds
Of heroes, and their freinds.

But it wasn't long it seemed
I'd read all the best ones,
Or at least those so deemed
By others, that's been done.

Then, I came upon that writer
I consider to be the best.
Who writes of love, and fighters,
Of adventures, and of tests.

Countless stories not etched
On parchment, or on scroll.
Nor drawn on hides stretched,
Or even in legends told.

These novels cause inspiration,
Or can steal it like no other.
They can inspire determination,
Or cause brother to hate brother.

They walk around on the streets,
Written on the fabric of time.
Etched in days, not on sheets,
And unfold in countless minds.

They're in the library of life.
In the here and now they trod,
And written through great strife,
By that greatest author, God.

Tim I.Brumley
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Submitted on February 09, 2010

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Timothy Ivan Brumley 061757 Claim this poet

Born in Fort Worth Tx., June 17 of 57. High School Gladewater Tx., Class of 75. Four years active duty 1975-79, USAF spent in the far east, mainly Japan. Two years college at Tyler Jr. College, Tyler Tx. Three years working the oil fields of East Tx, 25 years in the heating and air industry. Presently retired and single. Divorced, and living alone for 9 years now, with three children, and two grand children. Living in Danielsville Georgia. Hobbies include music, antiques, poetry. more…

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    "Novels" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 5 May 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/80517/novels>.

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