Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Personification Winter Poems | Personification Poems About Winter

These Personification Winter poems are examples of Personification poems about Winter. These are the best examples of Personification Winter poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Personification | |

Aurora

 She danced across the heavens
 Whirling and twirling in delight
  She slid up and down creating images
  With delight she colored the sky
 She made no sound as she moved
  She sculpted as she danced
 Unique patterns unfolded
  the heavens became her canvas
  colors became more vibrant
 Her colors changed with each breath
 She danced merrily for hours on end
Until the final curtain was drawn
With the up coming dawn.


Details | Personification | |

Life of a Tree

I am naked now, my limbs are bare
A chill blows through me during the night air

No one notices me, children do not climb
I stand still hoping not to lose a branch of mine

No green, no orange, no red I am just grey
This season I do not like because of being this way

Soon the sun will begin to show
My little buds of color start to glow

Encircled by luscious green grass I will be
Seasons are my life, this next one I like.

©Holly P. Moore
    January 2013


Details | Personification | |

Winter Storm

Restless winter's snow covered the ground
North wind blew in another winter storm
It howled,  it crawled and packed solid
 Clinging where it could to  frozen mother earth
Wave after wave it pounded, it bombarded
Icy pebbles scattered in all directions 
Spray like mist climbed the snow dunes
As an eerie chill settled upon the land

 ***********************
 Wind why do you blow
 as if you had no soul.
You come wild with fury
making all so weary.

************************


30/12/13


Details | Personification | |

Fireplace

I wonder what Mack is brewing today
All I can do is lick the pot
He builds me up higher, my embers, they-
Are smiling cause they know they're hot

I stare at the red sofa he's sitting upon
And at the cat I've burned once or twice
What can I say? The thing knows its wrong
To sit by a fire with ice

I taste a small dripping of soup from above
My flames hiss in the deepest content
With my dancing shadows, I warm as a glove
As I wait for a new log's descent


Details | Personification | |

OLD MAN WINTER

Even the oak tree topples
in the face of mighty winds
with a thunderous crash
as 100 year old wood meets earth

Its weight resting on one thick branch
driven deep into frozen dirt
as pieces of bark and dried leaves
twist free to ride currents of frigid air 

expelled from the lungs of Old Man Winter 
who wandered down from the north 
to visit the mountain homestead
under the cover of night

He spits ice into watering
troughs of cattle and horses
presses an eye to a crack in the wall 
of the weather beaten farm house 

to watch parents and children
curled up snug under hand stitched quilts
And blows in measured gusts
filling the rooms    turning tips

of ears and noses from frosty pink
to beet red    and ruffling the fur
of an old hound dog sleeping by the stove  
who twitches from the cold or possibly 

a dream of scampering across hills 
chasing coons in his faraway youth
Old Man Winter stretches wide
lovingly embracing the house

wrapping all in a chilly cocoon
as dawn breaks on frost-kissed fields
He draws his quivering self together and glides
away in the morning light  

Stopping on a hill to dance and twirl 
spinning snow into drifts sized for the bottom 
belly and head of a snowman yet to be made  
Continues down the shadowy slopes to the pond 

where he glides round and round
in circles and figure eights    freezing the water
into a solid base of ice    for the children    
freed from school in this wintry day will need

a place to play    to skate madly into the wind
For you see    Old Man Winter like the old hound dog
remembers being young and carefree with nothing
better to do than to chase the drifting snow


Details | Personification | |

The Snow

Falling at a terminal velocity
From the ether we fall at a speed that is  
Slow
What is my purpose, my destiny
Inevitable fate befalls the
Snow

Colliding with the other frosty white souls
Scattered across the ground sparkling like bright white
Gold
We're born in a season that is dead
How can something so white and pure be 
Cold

Like vampires the sun is our infirmity
Dawn approaches illuminating hues of
Wry
The epiphany before my death 
Is everything is impermanent 
Why


Details | Personification | |

Lilacs

Lilac ladies
you sleep inside your winter buds
of grey branches
that move
with April's gentle wind

wake up your sleepy folk
burst out of your winter beds
for Spring is upon us
and we wait for you in anticipation
to flaunt your fashion frocks

of lavender blue and angel pink
of virgin white and burgundy hue
upon the stage of a forthcoming May
waiting patiently in the wings
to herald a glorious summer..


Details | Personification | |

January, if you please

Oh January, thee of Winter’s spawn
I cannot wait till thou art gone
I’ve had enough of bleak, gray days
To last a lifetime, and so I pray
Thou wilt use thy icy, freezing touch
On us gently, with just a brush -
A coat of frosting on the trees
But not a blizzard, I beg of thee
No brown snow or ugly slush
No winter mess, nor snowy gusts
Just a sprinkling of thy winter skill -
Still picturesque, but not so chilled
A mild month, I ask of thee
To keep the warmth inside of me

1/2/12
Susan Burch
Received 3rd place in "Personification of January" contest


Details | Personification | |

Winter

‘Tis winter season—
a bracing weather, foggy in its warmth.
The trees are drying, as bones,
gripping water from the winter soil.
It’s resting on an earth snow:
dancing in chilliness, dazedly.
Perchance,
it’s waiting for a poignant breath
that will give him soul.
To feel, once more, from being numb.
To warm his heart;
but the serenity and the turmoil have ended.

The dream is forgotten by the prized.
The dream is freezing the lover. 


Details | Personification | |

Indian Summer

Indian Summer

The poppy said "No",
The nasturtiums said "Wait"
The seedlings were jumping at the gate;

"We have to get through Winter first,"
The old oak spoke, and everyone burst.
The pansies nodded in assent,
With a great deal of sentiment.

He looked down sadly at his girth,
Smiling wryly with perfect mirth;
"Ten more years is all I am worth".

He glanced at the herbs tenderly wilting
And spoke as though his heart were melting
"We have to be patient and wait for Spring,
And there's the catch, it's a learning thing".

"I won't make promises I can't keep
And we all know Winter will put us to sleep".

Summer will rise again, in all it's glory,
And that for now, is the end of my story.


Details | Personification | |

A Snowflake In June

I thought I saw a snowflake in June
Perhaps, it was just silly daydream imaginations
Or were ongoing investigations really do

Upon further horizon inquiries
The sun ended interviews in blushing denial
And when heavenly interrogations finished
The sky was turning guilty blue

I’m absolutely sure
The clouds were somewhere amidst the cover up
Fortunately, a little pigeon squawked
And revealed something of the simple truth

That, there was a brewing
Conspiracy of rumors, flying 
So I ruffled stoolie feathers convincingly
To spill the beans, out with his scandalous news

It seems a wintry prima donna 
Performer of the coming season
In order to beat the ratings
Broke out early and was somewhere on the loose

Could it be
The very same stitch of ice I'd seen
A snowflake thespian
Acting out in the month of June

Then, I saw a glistening 
Of arrogance pass right before my eyes
And tiny banner waved
Followed by the squeaky words “see you very soon”

I rubbed my eyes in disbelief 
And then, my tongue was quickly unleashed
As I closed the case of any further flakes
From trying to make their premature Hollywood debuts


Details | Personification | |

Winter's Rage

Upon the hush of winter snow
That glistens while the moon hangs low
A wind stirs up a blanket white
It quakes and rattles through the night

On chariots, with mighty steeds
It comes to scatter driven seeds
Decaying leaves and branches shed
With surge as storm moves overhead

It shivers cold upon the hill
To chill my heart much colder still
A tempest howl or'e chimney tops
The whipping sounds, forgiving not

Each gust comes strong with howling fierce
Through window sash, on knives that pierce
Knashes  teeth, with biting cold
Shaking shingles, grabbing hold 

All hover near a fire's hearth
While sleeting wrath, with fury's heart
To wait till winter's breath is spent
Tomorrow's rise, the final vent

Angry screams and threatening shouts
Peaceful dreams are tossed about
With dawning skies, a breathing sigh
Soft gentle breezes say goodbye

At last the wind has played with us
The game it won, with eager lust
There's nothing but a murmer now
Like spoiled child, it takes a bow

When winter calms, the anger ends
And brings along a peaceful bend
      A tranquil peace will soon abide
              ~~As winter's rage is satisfied


Details | Personification | |

The Ride Home

The melon yellow sun, burns through 
the winter forest,
backlighting it in shades of gray and mauve,
causing retinal flashes;
impeding the forward progress of traffic.
Car headlights, string out across the vista 
of days end, like reminders of Christmas past.
Red tails flare, as the iron horses baulk 
at fallen limbs, left by the last winter storm.
The air is heavy with 
the monsters mechanical breath.
And, within the belly of the beast,
behind their lensed lids, condensation forms.
Frost, smeared by the fingers 
of its symbiotic masters,
make the lifeless quadrupeds appear myopic,
As they rush frantically forward into 
the on coming night.


Details | Personification | |

The Ravishing

A chill wind bites coyly at exposed necks,
not yet draped in tourniquets of wool.
A wrapping of white, buries ribbons of asphalt.
The ways fills with metallic horsepower.
Goblets of slush like spittle fall, splat,
upon once virginal snowfields.
The rape of Winter had begun.

Rutting like rabid beasts in heat,
 the roadways lay revealed before the power of the storm.
Cumulous clouds belch from grills of chrome.
As Winter like the Sabine Women, weapon in hand,
pummels the oncoming horde with icicles.
Power falls from an angry, cloud-filled, sky 
weighty and white, Winter defends herself.

The surge of day brings forth an endless tide of travelers;
trampling her breast, ravaging, the once pristine vista;
shredding the thin veil of purity, only the Goddess brings;
laying waste, in mounds of mud like filth, The Mother.
She curls inward. Her indrawn breath freezes gears
grinding, screeching, shrieking the earth succumbs.
In snow like ash she lays vanquished.