Objects without motion are said to be inanimate,
But in my world motion is only one particle of animation.
For you see
My objects speak to me
In voices too poetic to be heard by others.
They have emotions,
They have thoughts,
They have opinions and
They are never afraid to shout!
I sit on my bed
While my music stands perch on the floor before me
Arguing over who I appreciate more.
He's had me longer!
Yeah, well I'm exquisitely sleek!
You always hog all the music!
Are just a few of their humorous cries.
As I listen to their argument
My thoughts are interrupted
By the screaming voice of my bed,
Get that hunk of brass off of me!
And so I transfer my trumpet to the floor.
Unexpectantly the Yamaha yells back at me,
You could at least put me on a stand!
Grrr! Are my thoughts.
So many voices eager for my attention,
And when I give it,
Only rebuttal!
Hey you!
Put down that paper and come play me!
Exclaims my guitar from across the room.
A tempting request,
But immediately I hear a warnful growl
Emerging from my paper.
And so I decide to restrain.
Finally, as if waiting for my emotions to build up
The most hinderous evil of them all
Begins to beckon my name.
No! I will not turn on the T.V.!
And just when I thought completion was near
I find myself listening
To still more voices clouding the walls of my room.
Vacations from the past
Have yielded picture upon picture
Each one holding its own memory
That speaks to me each time I look.
A trophy shelf to my left
Yields 29 resultants of hard work
Who consistently demand that I add to their number.
Above my trophies sit my little animal companions,
Each one reminding me of how
They came to be my friend.
And so while other people may never hear
The conversations taking place around them,
I, I will listen, respond, and realize
That inanimate objects are not really inanimate at all.
Copyright 2003 By Alvin Shaul
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