Anabel's library

Welcome. Make yourself at home.

Look around, heart what you like, add one of your own. Nothing you do here is kept, so try everything.

Five things to try

0 of 5 tried

Snap a page.

Tap a line on a real page of mine and watch it turn into a fragment.

Create a collection.

Small wonders, with my notes in between.

Read my mind.

What this library says about its reader.

Today's spark.

One line comes back, with something to write about.

The library

2 of 8 fragments

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a poem

I. The Burial of the Dead

April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers.

— T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land (1922)

existencespringmemoriesmodernist

Opening lines. An interesting analysis of this poem and of modernism is in the introduction to Why Poetry by Matthew Zapruder.

a poem

Bath

The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air. The sunshine pours in at the bath-room window and bores through the water in the bath-tub in lathes and planes of greenish-white. It cleaves the…read more

— Amy Lowell, Men, Women and Ghosts (1916)

springlightjoythe body

your turn

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Collections

Small wonders

3 fragments · 3 notes