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Personification April Poems | Personification Poems About April

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

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April

I walked along the prairie road
and gazed upon the skies
and saw the face of early Spring
a lady in disguise
and from her lips came tiny birds
who flew into the air
while crocus, tulip, daffodil
came tumbling from her hair
she bid the sleeping sun to rise
in shades of pink and blue
then stole away through the  emerald grass
thick with morning dew

Copyright © valerie bellefleur | Year Posted 2015

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Empty Coffee Cup -Personification-

Whispering, waiting
it sits on front of me,
telling me to have more
but, still it sits lonely.

It looks at me; wanting, waiting
wants to have a comforting moment with me,
should I, shouldn't I?
Mint green coffee cup sits empty.

"I'll keep your coffee safe
so you can sip it slow,
let the rich aroma fill your nostrils
gently as it goes."

I give in to temptation
it won't let me be,
waiting, whispering
my full coffee cup gawks with glee.

Copyright Cynthia Jones
Apr.27/2015

Wow!!! Never thought my empty coffee cup would ever have a conversation with me. I'll never leave it lonely again. :O)

Copyright © Cynthia Jones | Year Posted 2016

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SUICIDE NOTE

My name is flower
Of number one display and color
To commit suicide I decide
To take nuclear waste or pesticide

Am tired of you people polluting the air
Polluting our rivers and streams that's not fair
You clear out our jungles, you cut down our mountains
To make way for tall buildings Hollywood Mansions and fountains

You burn fuel for energy source
Depleting the ozone showing no remorse
You drill, you drain the earth of it's natural resource and nutrients
Causing a shift in the earth's plate
Evidence Tsunami and Earth Quake

I cannot take it anymore
This is the final straw
Yes am gonna commit suicide
Either by Nuclear Waste or Pesticide
O! yes you need me for oxygen
along with all other plant life existing

So if I were to take them all with me you'll die
You'll be no more... no lie?
So sit back admire the beauty, the splendor  
The wonderful blossoming of a flower

In my last breath I write this suicide note
Dated 25th April 2011 by... flower


©Copyright April 2011 by Brian Pierre-Alexander
© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Brian Pierre-Alexander | Year Posted 2012

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Poetry Garden


No. I’m not a rock; and I’m not an island.
I am about 8 feet wide and 20 feet long.
I get plenty of sun light, and I drain well, when it rains.
I have been lying dormant since last summer’s harvest of tomatoes.
That was the first year that my owners grew nothing but tomatoes.
Yes. I am dirt and soil; I am a natural food machine; I am a garden.

My soil has been enriched with all kinds of good nutritious compose.
Over the years my owners have planted many different vegetables;
but due to water shortages over the last four years, they have curtailed
their crops.  For example, I have produced corn, white potatoes, squash, mustard greens, and tomatoes.  However, this year, they decided to raise tomatoes, onions, and peas.  

I tend to always do well with tomatoes, and this year I should 
produce a bumper crop of tomatoes because of the winter rain
in Northern California.  I will try my best with the peas, but I
make no promises.

There is a young and thriving peach tree whose roots have been growing deep into my soil for the past four years.  The first year of production yielded nice peaches of average size.  The second year brought my owner peaches about the size of golf balls.  Please, do not blame me, because the soil in me was well nourished, except for water.  From the garden, eat fresh my friend.
04302016 PS Contest, Poetry

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2016

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Hidden Lies

The gloomy skies that lie above us on these cold shower April days.
The clouds that keep us from smiling and awake the whole day.
The hidden sun that tries to find its way.
Am I alive? Am I awake? I’m looking for myself through these gray days.


j.m.

Copyright © Jazlyn Madrigal | Year Posted 2016