MY ROOM

I sweep my office/room, with my eyes

so many objects hold my attention:  

pictures, paintings, a toy wooden prop plane,

(all gifts from my friends), 

some of my drawings are pinned,
dangling on small bulletin board (need improvement),

dog beds (spoiled loved animals),

my desk ( spirit) supports

a Buddha figurine, a picture of Ama, the hugging saint, 

a singing bowl, a picture of my dogs(!?),

a poetry chapbook I bought from a starving artist,

a little golden mannequin next to a little toy robot.

They both stand still waiting for me to live, 

sometimes wanting me to imitate their stillness,
other times wanting me to feel, see and move the way they can't.

In the middle, there's space

for my computer, ipad, my phone (techno "necessities"),

but mostly for my thoughts that sometimes strain

for meaning, other times flow deeply in poetic sensitivity.

There's more stuff in this mix, strewn around in disarray:

a box of tissues (allergies), a little journal book (awareness), sketch books (learning),
a little dish full of marbles (inspiration), papers to be sorted (procrastination).
There's a chest of drawers for miscellaneous things,
on top are many pictures of my family (treasures).  

Monumental mountains (conscience) stare at me
through the light and darkness that filters through the window.

The design of this room is no accident.
 I chose it then selected and placed everything in it 

(my life.). 

(For Susan's prompt at Poet's United; design.