Posts tagged book.
Bought at Powell’s City of Books
Author on the cover of TIME
(via imaginenoheaven-deactivated2013)
![When I was 16, my mother presented me with this book.
I was a young novice poet, writing and brooding about broken hearts and love and wounds and teen angsty things…and I loved the dark words of my (then) favorite poet, Edgar Allan Poe. I learned from a friend that today (1/19/11) he’d be 201 years old. My little antique book was published in 1882…I don’t think I own anything else that is quite that old, or a possession that I’ve had quite as long.
My little Poe book has moved with me more times than I care to count. Packed and unpacked. Darkness and light. And always in the first box I opened in the new place. My Poe book and my children and I have criss-crossed this country from cities and towns in Florida to Seattle, Washington, and then finally landing here in small town Michigan where we live our days celebrating each unique season. Though my three teenagers would disagree, there is something very charming about living here for the past seven years.
In each place I’ve ever lived, my little old Poe book became a reminder of my mother and from whence I came. It grounded me. It has always been there, resting quietly until I take it down from its place and gently turn the brittle pages and run my fingers over the lines of my favorite Poe poem, Annabel Lee.
Original post
[Feel free to take the following commentary out… When I talked about having a week dedicated to our favorite books, someone asked for an example. The above is what I’d like us to aim for. Keep submitting!]](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lj03ygRVqy1qgh9b7o1_500.jpg)
When I was 16, my mother presented me with this book.
I was a young novice poet, writing and brooding about broken hearts and love and wounds and teen angsty things…and I loved the dark words of my (then) favorite poet, Edgar Allan Poe. I learned from a friend that today (1/19/11) he’d be 201 years old. My little antique book was published in 1882…I don’t think I own anything else that is quite that old, or a possession that I’ve had quite as long.
My little Poe book has moved with me more times than I care to count. Packed and unpacked. Darkness and light. And always in the first box I opened in the new place. My Poe book and my children and I have criss-crossed this country from cities and towns in Florida to Seattle, Washington, and then finally landing here in small town Michigan where we live our days celebrating each unique season. Though my three teenagers would disagree, there is something very charming about living here for the past seven years.
In each place I’ve ever lived, my little old Poe book became a reminder of my mother and from whence I came. It grounded me. It has always been there, resting quietly until I take it down from its place and gently turn the brittle pages and run my fingers over the lines of my favorite Poe poem, Annabel Lee.
Original post
[Feel free to take the following commentary out… When I talked about having a week dedicated to our favorite books, someone asked for an example. The above is what I’d like us to aim for. Keep submitting!]
Most of you have probably heard of the musical Cats, based on this book, T.S. Eliot’s Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats.
The Court of King Arthur; Stories from the Land of the Round Table by William Henry Frost and illustrated by Sydney Richmond Burleigh. c.1896
1952 paperback of Away and Beyond by A.E. Van Vogt (etsy)
Little Red Riding Hood by Charles Perrault
(As a sidenote, I believe this is a copy from the 1950’s)
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Hi, I'm Kat.
I creep on writers. I hope you'll join me. For all of your literary quandaries or just to drop off suggestions, ask is open.
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