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Life Personification Poems | Personification Poems About Life

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

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Details | Personification |

Umbrella

There she stands 
Centre stage for all to see
Tall and slender 
Precariously she balances.

I reach out for her
Draw her to me 
My hand skims her body 
Slowly reaching her skirt.

Playful fingers find hidden areas
Delighted her legs spring forth
Displaying the very beauty
Of her delicately adorned skirt.

Gaily she dances around
Dizzily twisting and turning
In the brightness of day shading
She gently tends to my needs.

Personal ballerina takes to toes leaping
Merrily bobbing up and down
As emotional to her performance
Clouds cry a thousand tears for her.

Reaching our destination
Slightly shaken, she leans
Watches me quietly drips
Against the wall.

Reminiscent of the day's fulfillment
We acknowledge one another silently
Restful knowing we shall be
One once more.


Details | Personification |

Ode to the Redwood

I was once a little twig with dreams of being a mighty tree
So people would come from all around just to look at me
As the years started to come and go I fell in love with the wind
I would open myself big and wide swaying to the music of my friend
My rings became many and my bark was as red as red could be
Then the day finally came I was the tallest of the tallest trees
I stood tall and I stood proud and everyone knew my name
As my rings continued recording my destiny to fame
Then the fateful day it came my friend and I had a fight
Looking back I can't recall who was wrong or right
I said, "You are but the wind something people can't even see"
" And I'm the king of them all the tallest of the tallest trees"
That night the wind started to howl she really started to blow
And I the tallest of all the trees learned we reap what we sow
My roots struggled to hold on tight but without a soul around
She who had been my dearest friend knocked me to the ground
The loggers came and cut me up then shipped me away
To my soul that truly was a sad and lonely day
Torn from all I knew and loved wishing I didn't have to feel
I was cut into boards and post down at the local mill
Now I'm back here at home just a few feet away
From where my friend the wind and I used to dance and play
I'm the deck on which you stand I lay below your feet
There is a bench made of me would you care to have a seat
Sometimes in life our roles change just take a look at me
The trick is no matter who are what you are be all you can be
See I was once a little twig who became a mighty tree
And now I'm a redwood deck as proud as proud can be
And of my friend the wind she visits me everyday
So I can thank her once again for helping me find my way


Details | Personification |

Whispers Within



I am the spirit of satin stardust and the antiquities of golden memories alive I call to you from the rising warmth of the sun and greet you in the misty morning light I am the steady and rolling drum beat echoing from the jagged heights above I am the mysterious curves of the raging waters' and the freedom birds of love I rise above the white summer clouds in lilting songs of grace and roam with the western tail-winds to take you home again I am a Spirit of our gracious Lord God Almighty of love hope and faith I have come to tell
Dedicated To P.D.


Details | Personification |

CRUCIFISH

The fish is a creature cold and wet
Hooked by line and trawled by net,
Easy to catch and yummy to eat
Fried in oil or seared by heat.
I must admit I eat my share
So my guilt I sadly bear.
Handless and legless they strive to survive
Yet they are loved more....Dead than alive!
-But-
Fish cannot scream
Fish cannot yell
The pain from a hook,fish cannot tell.
Fish cannot scratch
Most do not bite
They go to the pan with little fight
-But-
What a frenzy,what a fuss
When one of them devours us!
It's on the telly,it's in the press
"Each shark killed is a monster less."
It's not in the press,its not on the telly.
How many of them are in our belly!
-But-
If fish could scream,if fish could cry
If fish had fur or big brown eyes.
If fish were dry and nice and warm
We'd never do them any harm.
We'd think them cute,they'd get respect
They wouldn't 'get it in the neck'.
Protest groups would march the streets,
And fish would multiply in peace.
-But-?


Details | Personification |

Rose

She holds herself above the thorns of bitterness-
So sharp  and green with envy of her loveliness-
As she trembles in the chill of winter’s breath-
That stills the beating of her scarlet breast-
As  her petals fall like drops of blood 
Upon the snowy mantle white
As beautiful in death
As she was – my Rose - in life

~~~~~~

Author:  Elaine George
Awarded: First Place
Brian Strand's 1 to 8 contest


Details | Personification |

Snowflakes

Mesmerizing flutters and flourishes
gracefully blow on the wind
drifting, creeping  and crawling up and down my back door
I see you hit the  pane
slide a little to the left and kiss another
slipping together as your mass melds - swaying as one
As if on dancing on ice
Together you perform 
Quick-stepping motion
As the crowd thickens
or winds abate
Tired from your escapade together you settle
On the purest white bed
Where tomorrows warmth will warm your juices
Melting you and allowing you to slip away
almost unnoticed you make your exit


Details | Personification |

MY POEMS

.                         ‘Violin’ was written on a soft dark velvet night,
                As I drifted - in the dreams -  of the flickering -  candle light;
           Ne’er pre-planned -  nor pondered - nor was she - pre-conceived,
        She came from deep within me, appearing  on the screen,
               As did my favorite poem - my darling ‘Cannon Lee’.

                ‘The Love of a Gentlemen’ -  and ‘Where the Heart Resides,’
                   Came from treasured memories - I tried to keep alive;
                   With words - chosen carefully - to create solidity,
                          I brought them back to life - to live eternally,
                  In vivid hues - more beautiful - than all the autumn leaves.

                   Others - fell like drops of dew  - from flying fingertips,
           That raced across the keyboard  - in hopes they wouldn’t miss,
                The chance to share the beauty - my eyes now fell upon,
           Through the kitchen window  - across the river -  and beyond,
            Where fields of liquid diamonds - glistened in the early dawn.

                    Others came in metaphors -  disguising secrets held;
                      To painful in reality - for me to ever tell. 
                ‘The Rose and the Thorn’ -  poured herself upon the page,
                     A sonnet of over-whelming grief  - rising up from hidden rage,
                         Releasing me forever - from my gilded cage.
                                           
                                                     ~~~~~

                        These poems I write - come day come night,
                                  Come candle or come neon light,
                       Come wind, come rain, come joy, come pain,
                They are the life - the Great Creator -  breathed in me;
                                         They are my breath! 
                                          They are my poetry!

                                                      ~~~~~


                               Author:  Elaine George
                               Written:  January 13th, 2010

Inspired by:  Deborah Guzzi's contest 'How Do You do It - How do you write your poems'?
PLACED: SECOND

Authors Note:  This poem was written on route to Bath, North Carolina via Ferry 
crossing.  It was written on a note-pad from the' Hampton Inn' and transferred 
to my lap-top after returning to Swansborro.


Details | Personification |

Pulse

One moist patch, like dewy grass,
surrounded by a field of weeds,
emerges first and breathes at last, 
through openings, the air it needs.
Cut off from, and cut off of;
counting on, and counting in;
from down below, to up above - 
A smack on tender, crimson skin.
	There is a pulse.

One spring bud, like seedling stems,
surrounded by a garden wall,
is standing out from all of them, 
despite the fact, they're just as tall.
And though the bud has not yet grown,
the soil and the water see
more than just the seed they've sewn.
They see the flower it will be.
	There is a pulse.

One tall stem, like climbing vines,
surrounded by its petals' plumes,
shares its elegant designs,
and stretches as it blooms.
And when the wind begins to call,
the flower spreads it's pollen 'round.
It falls in love, and loves in fall,
and falling love renews the ground.
	There is a pulse.


Details | Personification |

when

if i wanted to kiss you
would you stand still
if i wanted to be with you
could we both time kill
if i held your hand
would you understand
or carress your cheek
would you be meek
if i whispered in your ear
would you hear
if i look into your eyes 
would they lie
and tell me something else
that my heart is saying
if i wanted to love you
with all my heart
would that be smart
if i made you my reason to live
would it be worth everything i give
and if i said i love you
would you hold those words above you
forsaking all others as the preacher said
being mine and to no others lead
then my heart belongs to you
remember, to no other will i be true
with this poem i make this pact 
and with my hopes i hope you act
fill in all the love that i lack
and as for doubts
we could fill up the cracks


Details | Personification |

Mother and I

Mother shares all, sacrificing 'til barren.

She and I are one, united in breath and dust,
the atoms and spirits spinning, fragments of failures,
curiosity and constraint... I was tempted in the orchard.
I was cold in the desert. I felt abandoned...

Dreams are feathers fleeing on wings.
Birds of Paradise in the mind's eye...

Destitute yesterday, fruitful tomorrow.
Decadence is a disease. No one is healthy.
We are changing, dying from birth to grave,
I hold onto the internal, eternal while I ramble on and on...
Mother, are you listening?

I live in a trench of contentment, sheltered 
in my little world of sun and shadow, small
in my birthplace, blaming and forgiving,
striving and settling...digging my hands in the dirt.

Mother, you are the daisy, dainty and demure,
fair to the admiring eye, silent like the sunrise.
I pick daisies from your garden and pluck the petals hoping for love.
I may never know...

Mother, you are the redwood, strong and mature,
praising golden sky, healing and wise.
I climb your branches and gather leaves for the wind's scrapbook.
A lifelong search...

Mother, who are you? Who am I?
We are the distant stars.
We are the rivers nigh.
the daisy and redwood live;
we are earth, water, sky, life and death.
A dream on wings, laboring land,
A prayer on bended knee,
we dance, swim, fly, stand tall.
I call her friend...

Mother shares all, giver and taker of life 'til the end.


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