MY HOME

Come, visit me. 

Read between the lines

of my living blog's poem.

See the form I am within

concrete walls of neutral colors.

They symbolize blankness 

of life's canvas 

welcoming adornment,

to make it pretty.

"Your house is your larger body." *

Such is my home, whose rooms

like organs, have purpose. 

It's kitchen beats loud.

Pots clanging,  food steaming,

strong coffee brewing.  

This heart is where

you'll sit, 

when you visit.

Take a little tour, see

where I strive, scribble, 

thrive, dream of dreams, 

read a million pages 

written by smart minds responding 

to my answerless questions.

Come, meet my teachers- 

my family, friends, my pets - 

the pulse of my essence,
love flowing.

You'll see my home's tickle spots

of crafty nonsense some call art.    

Please politely refrain from comment

when you see my taste
for ridiculous whimsy revealed.

Visit.  Be my special guest.

I'll let you open doors 

to my dark closets,

where in disarray 

I keep some things concealed.

"Mi casa es su casa."

Come see me.

*Quote from "The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran."

(For Poets United.)