The other day we were asked to write a piece around personification, where we give character to an inanimate object.
We were provided a list of objects to choose from:
- A vacuum cleaner in a shop window
- A tailor’s dummy in a junk shop
- A loose button on an old coat
- A stained glass window in a derelict church
- A CCTV camera on a station platform at night
- A lift (elevator) in an office block
- A motorbike in pieces on the kitchen floor
- A bottle of aspirin in a bathroom cabinet
- A spoon in a bedsit
- A wardrobe in a hotel bedroom
- A reading lamp on a tidy/cluttered desk
- A paintbrush in a jar of turps
There were some wonderful pieces, quite a few tailors’ dummies, a loose button hanging by a thread, a motorbike, a shy CCTV camera that kept looking away, and a couple of office lifts.
I’m sure you can work out which one I chose …
Eat your arm off, I will.
Don’t tempt me; don’t give me the pleasure.
Chomp, chomp, munch, munch.
And now your foot.
Get out of my way, I’m in a rush, I have work to do.
Your attitude, your intolerable attitude to your minions,
It disgusts me, but here I’ll still do your bidding.
I won’t grumble like the others.
Neither will I bow down before you.
Straighten your tie; yes you should.
Wipe off that lipstick; your wife will know.
We all do.
I look, and spy on everyone.
We all talk when we believe no one listens.
Secrets like a confessional box.
A box, yes; but confession?
Huh, I signed no NDA.
I may welcome you with open arms,
But I might not set you free.