In his poem “Last Moon”, Spanish poet Vicente Aleixandre gives human qualities to an inanimate object—the moon:
The drowsy moon going down.
The one whose life I never knew.
It said María or Luisa. I laughed. Your name is moon.
But moon. And it went quiet.
Why not, if asleep
it's a fish, a white fish cleaned
of its memories, its sad thorns,
its grieving mercy. And it sleeps
as if dead, in a lake of sorrows,
but sorrows all sobbed out,
their tears all spilled,
so they’re no longer grief, just water,
water alone, lightless,
like the lifeless moon itself.
This week, dear writers, try your hand at anthropomorphism—a technique in which human characteristics are given to, in this case, an object. Write a poem that breathes human qualities into your inanimate subject, as CCReed and mystery_vehicle do so beautifully here.
(poem translated by Stephen Kessler, published in the
Editor's Note: Anthropomorphism is a literary device in which human traits and characteristics are given to animals, plants and deities, as well as to objects.