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Personification Sister Poems | Personification Poems About Sister

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

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Details | Personification | |

Sister Seasons

Summer:
Sunshine-blonde with sapphire eyes,
Cheeks tinged pink by bold sunrise.  
She smiles at noon to light the sky, 
Nudging clouds with gentle sighs.
She wears a gown of mossy lace
With blooming buttons, neatly spaced.   
With ocean heart and river veins,
She seldom cries - she dislikes rain.  
 
Autumn:
Fire-red locks with rose gold eyes
Bright with flecks of fireflies.
She pulls a veil of thunder clouds
Across the sky - a purple shroud.
She wears a robe of flaming beads,
A golden crown of rainbow leaves.
With full moon heart and molten veins,   
She weeps at will - she enjoys rain. 
 
Winter:
Raven mane with silver eyes,
Soft skin pale as milky skies.
She exhales gusts of icy wind;  
Her breath leaves frost on everything.  
She wears a cloak of northern lights
With sunburst jewels carved from ice. 
With clouded heart and frozen veins,
She cannot cry - she freezes rain.
 
Spring:
Amber curls with emerald eyes -
A fickle pair that floods and dries. 
She melts away the ice and snow
And resurrects the sun's warm glow.
She wears a cape of tangled stems,
Of gauzy vines and rosebud gems.  
With honey heart and nectar veins,
She loves to cry - she lives for rain. 

Copyright © Heather Ober | Year Posted 2012

Details | Personification | |

Three Sister Owls

Last night I asked my sisters
Why they were not hooting
Little owl said no one missed her
She would hoot when she so suited

Middle owl asked why did I care
Hooting is not what it used to be
Go 'google' hooters if you dare
For more than you ever want to see

'Hoot hoot hooray,' I hooted proudly
Wise owl like me knows to overlook
I will try to hoot quite loudly
And follow directions in the owl book

I helped little sister build a warm nest
Assured her everything would be 'owl' right
Middle sister decided it would be best
If we showed 'whoo' we are tonight

Darkness falls, noise is clearer
An incessant convolution of forest sounds
Each in a place where all can see her
Three sister owls hooting upside down

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Written 2-3-2016
For Owls Personification Contest by Eve Roper
2nd Place

Copyright © Susan Gentry | Year Posted 2016

Details | Personification | |

For My Sister - With Love

When I asked sea about the Pearls, 
It laughed and said that is one of my lovely jewels.

When I asked about light to the sun! 
Overjoyed, he uttered there is no life without it.

I asked river, What pleases its heart? 
And she said, to become lovely waterfall.

I asked flowers; tell me why thy blossom is for? 
To play with the wind, the scent waft, Byron persecutes, and for it I live.

I asked moon, tell me your purpose of life? 
To come at night play with stars and allure with waves and play hide and seek.

When I asked Mount, What is the purpose of your standing tall? 
He said, to talk with clouds and convince them to fall on earth.

I asked, Birds tell me your whereabouts? 
And they said, To fly high, to talk with winds and to sing a song.

And all of them asked me; Now you tell us what your heart feels about? 

I said the greatest jewel of my life is bigger than all yours and that is for my Beloved Sister.

Because, Her love is deeper than the sea, her faith is more firm than mountains.
Her feelings are more gentle than the flowers, Lighter than clouds, playful like rivers

And she is bigger than the sky of Sun, Moon and all stars 
And of course she is my Sister, My loving Sister – Farah Naaz.

Copyright © M Asim Nehal | Year Posted 2015

Details | Personification | |

Summer

Warm is her embrace
Nectar is her sweet kiss
A cool breeze is her breath,
Bright green was her face
Since birth, taking remiss
Being born of sister's death.

A universal play reforming
Down through the ages
Finds every soul an actor,
In this play she's performing
Act two on the annual stages
That find linear time a factor.

It's a tale of great strife
Of great love and great loss
A tale of passion and woe,
The never ending story of life
That found climax on a cross
But still has a good way to go.

In this play she will perish
But her death shall give way
To life for others down line,
A repeating theme to cherish
Death begets life, shows the way
Of the authors divine design.

She will sacrifice her life
That her sister might live
Who'll do likewise the same,
But for now play the fife
To the performance she gives
For, Summer is her name.


                      Timothy I. Brumley

Copyright © Timothy Brumley | Year Posted 2010

Details | Personification | |

Why Sister

        *********

Loving and considerate
The first of her kind'
She is a glimpse of
Her own reflection
Garnered from time'
         --------
A reflection worthy 
      - Of -
    Her Mother
       Fore She is
Her Mother's child
Willful and obedient
She shall always' smile
        ------
She is also a Child of God
Divinely and duly resurrected
She is only surpassed 
       By Her tenacity,
    And her capacity
             To Love 
Which should be the envy
Due to it's charm and varsity
And her Self of well being


             GF

Copyright © Gary Fields | Year Posted 2011

Details | Personification | |

September And My Sister Jan


Our youngest sister thinks that she’s ‘all that’ and a ‘bag of chips with dips to go’.
She’s very popular and thinks that she’s ‘made to order with a heavenly glow’.
When she gets upset, she can be uncomfortable and ‘hot as fire’.
The last of twelve, we all call her Julie, but her real name is July.

Our brother Gus seems always to be in the middle of something,
and doesn’t really know if he’s coming or going.  But don’t push him, because he can be pretty hot headed sometimes.                              He prefers Gus, but his real name is August.

You might not like her, but I would love for you to meet my sister Jan.
Jan is the oldest of the family clan, but her real name is January.
I have always been a bit on the shy side, but there is absolutely
nothing about Jan that is shy.  O, she can be nice ‘s o m e t i m e s’,
but she’s not gentle and  tender like April and me.  No, no, no; Jan can
be cold as ice.

O me?  I’m like 40, leaving 39 behind.
I’m like the little engine who thought he could,
but kept trying until he finally did.
If  I were a day of the week, I would be                                     Wednesday  getting over the hump.
I’m September, entering  a season of anticipation,
with plenty of energy and things to remember.
09012016 cj PS

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2016