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The Study

I’m the only object moving in the room.
A place that is exactly the same as I left it;
like the sudden alertness after anesthesia.

Everything awakes when I arrive;
the plants perk up,
the books greet me with past lives
of both myself and the writer,
the papers with scribbles and pens
obediently wait to be touched,
the magnifying glass gleams
(inherited from uncle Jack,
made with depression glass),
and the thousand masterpieces on shelves and walls
in this cubicle that could barely fit a magic carpet-
all bow to the divinity that wills them alive!

Windows open to a wide sky
and the room takes in light
offered by the season;
soon it will feed shadows
to a night of stained-glass lamps
as I drift to dreaming before sleep.

The idea of imagining this room
without me in it...
I cannot.
The room would be dead.

I cannot.
But as I journey in the world
commuting in its loneliness,
a poem, a photograph,
the aroma of lotus flowers
that bloom now in winter,
or a sound of samba or cantata
will invite me to return here
for a refrain from time.

How strange that so much
exists for me alone.

Last few words: 
A few days ago I couldn't write..ie, writer's block. I once heard just write about a room.... Here is a revised poem after comments and further thought. Same substance, just looking to improve it.
Editing stage: 

Comments

and that is a VERY meaningful comment. At a certain point in writing poems I realized that staying on subject what made made all the poems I loved work. It is so hard to razor focus but not appear to be. We, me, are tempted to so often put ornaments in a poem which come out of left field, and stir the reader away.

Yes indeed the objects around me are created by people or nature, but my presence in a sense, a poetic sense, makes them live, have consciousnesses. That was the intent of the poem.

Thanks again for that comment.

Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

author comment

Sounds like a cosy place for clever thoughts. I feel as though I've visited, and that is down to clever writing. Like this. Regards Roscoe..

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

This write strikes me as transgressive and has the scent of the surreal ;)
The child who sees his reality as an extension of his very own will and magical countenance... I like it!

With regards to craft I have been ambivalent about finding the balance between pairing down just enough but not so much that a poem reads like a list or remains bereft of the linguistic necessitates to form meaning

eliminating some articals
Windows open to a wide sky...…..Windows open to wide sky

and the room takes in the light......the room takes in light

offered by the season,...offered by the season...or ….offered by season
soon it will feed shadows
to a night of stain glass lamps,
together in dream until I sleep.

This is not a criticism; it is a question about pairing down I myself ponder with regards to the use of articles as they pertain linguistic/poetic aesthetics

Windows open to wide sky
the room takes in light
offered by season
it will feed shadows
to a night of stain glass lamps,
together in dream until I sleep.

………

Yes,Its a bit spare; but now it seems there is more room made for the musicality of the descriptive

ie
it will feed inky eyed shadows or coiled shadows etc

Again these are off the top of my head examples, not actual suggestions, as a possible approach to writing poems

Best Z

you can't pay enough attention to that. Your comment is precisely one very important aspect of a workshop, for different voices to read the line differently and find those extra articles and syllables and tongue twisters that you don't always catch. I'm going to make some adjustments in the poem.

That whole section about the light...trying to create a sense of the place with it...not sure it's needed at all, but not sure...I'm going to give it some time. very often I come back a week, or several later to my recent works with a scalpel.

good suggestions, thank you.

Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

author comment

Me too and needing adjustments almost always ...OK ,,,Always :)

Reminds me of a Sci-fi story I read somewhere, about a boy that created himself through writing a story about his surroundings. Wish I could remember the name of the story or the author. I understand where you are coming from though; I look round in my wife's room and see that she is the one who brings it to life. I cannot imagine her in my room or me in hers. Strange as it seems, I think the story has merit. Nice work. ~ Geezer.
.

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

I just fucking loved this because it captures exactly my feelings about my own place.
Perfectly.

cheers,
Jess
A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'
https://www.neopoet.com/workshop/rhythm-and-meter-poetry

Appreciate that mate. That little spot in the house, I think we all have it.

Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

author comment
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