Things CM1120 #8

What happened is, we grew lonely

living among the things,
so we gave the clock a face,
the chair a back,
the table four stout legs
which will never suffer fatigue.
We fitted our shoes with tongues
as smooth as our own
and hung tongues inside bells
so we could listen
to their emotional language,

and because we loved graceful profiles
the pitcher received a lip,
the bottle a long, slender neck.


Even what was beyond us
was recast in our image;
we gave the country a heart,
the storm an eye,
the cave a mouth
so we could pass into safety.


This poem is a prime example of personification. "What happened is, we grew lonely/living among the things,/" therefore we created personification, giving "the clock a face,/ the chair a back,/ the table four stout legs/". Although this poem expresses many of the different personifications we've created there are also many other examples that aren't quite as obvious. The ocean sings, leaves dance, wind howls, cars are called "she", a mouse attached to your computer is named a "mouse". There are so many other examples of personification, and probably others which haven't even been thought up yet.

I personally love this poem because it uses such an interesting view on objects and the personification given to them, as in a clock with a face. When you say the face of a clock reads 12:45pm with the big hand and the little hand, you do not consciously compare this to a person having a face and hands. You simply know that when the big hand is on the 12 of the face, the person is talking about a clock. When you say the leg of that chair is broken, you do not compare it to the broken leg of a human, it doesn't seem as dramatic. It is only a chair, but it is still a leg.




When I read poems like this, and others, even stories, I often feel a surge of inspiration. I wish I could write as beautifully as some of these authors do. I find it so amazing how much is hidden behind the original reading of a story or poem. I would love to be able to write something with such a beautiful hidden meaning. In the past I have written poems and stories of my own, which almost no one has ever read, and some of them have been long tossed in the garbage, but I never felt that they would ever live up to some of the beautiful readings I've read.Of the people who have read some of the poems etc. that I've written, they were amazed and said it was beautiful. But honestly, I believe it could be a million times better. I suppose that is the thing about people. No matter how good they are at something, no matter how many people believe they are good at it. They never believe they are good enough. Reading poems etc. often make me feel inspired, they also make me feel insignificant, and unable to ever achieve such a greatness.