Quotes from J. Patrick Lewis

Poetry is perfect verbs hunting for elusive nouns.

Poetry is the tunnel at the end of the light.

A great book is a homing device For navigating paradise. A good book somehow makes you care About the comfort of a chair. A bad book owes to many trees A forest of apologies.

A bad book owes to many trees | A forest of apologies.

Poetry is frosted fire.

Poetry is prose, bent out of shape.

Poetry is the tunnel at the end of the light.

Poetry is perfect verbs hunting for elusive nouns.

A great book is a homing device For navigating paradise. A good book somehow makes you care About the comfort of a chair. A bad book owes to many trees A forest of apologies.

Please bury me in the library With a dozen long-stemmed proses

I won't be sad too often, If they bury me in the library With bookworms in my coffin.

Libraries Are Neccessary Gardens, Unsurpassed At Growing Excitement

The Ladybug wears no disguises. She is just what she advertises. A speckled spectacle of spring, A fashion statement on the wing.... A miniature orange kite. A tiny dot-to-dot delight.

I have always believed that poems beg to be read aloud, even if the reader is in a world all her own.

The Book Booth There's not a big selection, It's not locked for protection, But at the intersection Of Booth and Telephone, Two customers politely Can snuggle in it (tightly) And go once over (lightly) The books they'd like to own. "Readcycle" means you leave one - A book you love. Retrieve one... Who knows? You might receive one You haven't read before. Hats off to the committee For such an itty-bitty Library in the city, Which proves that less is more.

The Universal Turtle Verse I spend the day nibbling rent-free Underneath the Giving Tree. Me, Rirty Dat and Snerry Jake Show Runny Babbit how to make Up verses. Then I lug my hump (Careful not to bump the Glump) Into the woods to trade a word With the argle-bargle bird: Nuthatch wisely recommends, Find out where the sidewalk ends.

Spotted Park Bench I am a park bench. Ordinary words cannot express my thoughts on birds.

I won't be sad too often, If they bury me in the libraryWith bookworms in my coffin.