Animate objects

Even filing cabinets have feelings,

so too the carpet trod carelessly

underfoot; the purse or wallet that

knows your PIN, but never tells.

It's why children talk to teddy bears,

and sticks picked up from forest floors

become Superhero ray guns; or magic 

wands that make wishes come true;

And why cars won't start on really 

cold mornings and mountains move 

with the times; how a house becomes
a home and pencils guide the poet's hand.   

But most of all, it's the knowing.

The sense that everything lives,

as early morning dew spotlights

the intricate weave of spider webs 

and fallen leaves come alive, to dance

in chorus line with the music of the wind.

It's matter, absorbing emotion, 

the impalpable motion of time 

as we ebb and flow like liquid 

in a different, parallel world.

Suspended in frozen belief; only 

becoming free, when once again,

Prometheus steals fire from 

the heavens, and this time, 

animates everything.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

oh Beccy...i had to smile when i read this....i certainly relate to what you have said here...
i have this crazy habit (and just keep this between you and me) of bumping into furniture and saying "excuse me"---
or dropping a utensil on the floor in the kitchen and saying "sorry"---
i guess i live in Tolkien's world where everything is alive....everything.
Such a clever piece.
j.

[Beccy]

You're not alone jacob. I have actually caught myself apologising to the contents of a kitchen cupboard, as I close the door and shut out what little light they were enjoying. :))

[Jimmy Yetts]

Thoroughly charming.
Your poem, itself, is certainly one of those "Animate Objects."
Most impressive work, Beccy!

[Eilis]

Those last four lines are my favorite. Prometheus willing to steal the fire again even knowing the torment that awaits. There's a sense of awe and mystery here, but also the knowingness of the creative mind. We don't have to outgrow the child completely. Imagination keeps us on that plain if we allow it to move as it likes when we are able.

I particularly notice the animated sense of inanimate things when I am rushing and frustrated. It is then that a tower of boxes will mysteriously come crashing down, or a family of silverware will jump from my hand onto the floor as I'm shifting it from the dishwasher to the silverware drawer.

I love the whimsy of this, Beccy. There is always some secret thing waiting to be discovered if we are open to it.

[R.E. Ray]

Beccy, this poem is proof of humanity’s richness. When we see “objects” as living things, how can we not be better human beings? I find not only sincerity and joy in your poem but grace. We’re so blessed to experience this life through so many senses, and you’ve captured that blessing here only as a poet can.