Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership


See and share Beautiful Nature Photos and amazing photos of interesting places

Song Personification Poems | Personification Poems About Song

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

Details | Personification |

The Old Tree

It is strange
how things that we see
and take for granted
in everyday life
should suddenly instil
in our minds
a new awareness
of their presence

A silent moment
a brief pause
from life's ever quickening pace
a moment of peace -
in times like these
a common thing
like a dried old tree
becomes alive with beauty

It stands like a quiet sentinel
who has witnessed 
many an event 
through time
Time has passed by 
but it remains 
silently standing there
O Tree!
What secrets do you store
in your noble branches?
How many events have you recorded
that man knows nothing of?

In your younger days
when you wore your mantle of green
you nested the carefree birds
to their offspring
you gave protection
When the sun scorched the earth
you gave them cool shade
On a cool windy night
you gave them warmth
How pleasant was their song 
to your ear 
as they sang a song of thanks
to you

You were a playmate to the children
When they romped at your feet
or climbed on your branches
you smiled
Time grew older
and the children became lovers
You saw them kiss in your shade
soft with the light of the moon
The aura of their love
touched your leaves
and you blushed

Today 
they have all gone away
but you still remain 
silent sentinel
still waiting and watching
How many untold events 
have you witnessed
faithful keeper of secrets?

O that my soul could commune with you
and share of your rugged beauty!
Most Noble Tree!
forgive me for my
once-waxen eyes


Details | Personification |

My Love is Like a Bird

My love is like an Owl
Knowledgeable and deep and wise
My love is like the Raven
With magic behind its eyes

My love is like an Eagle
Its lineage crowned most high
My love is like a Lark
So swift and scarce and shy

My love is like the Peregrine
Soaring silent above the hill
My love is like the Dove
Spreading peace and good will

My love is like the Stork
Bringing life so fair and bright
My love is like the Sparrow
It’s intuition for life’s fading light

My love is like the Albatross
Floating high on fair winds
My love is like the Crow
The darkened portent that it sends

My love is like the fabled Tern
Crossing continents the status quo
My love is like the Penguin
With its tuxedo in the snow

My love is like the Mynah
Able to sing any song or say
My love is like the Rooster
Heralding each brand new day

But most of all my love is like the Lovebird
Her loving song oft heard
That perfect pair to my person
And the inspiration for these words


Details | Personification |

Drawn in Harmony

The phrase "Music to my ears" has been injected toward the 
wrong part of my body, and most unpleasantly personified. 
There is a record player that I let skip and scratch on purpose, hearing 
colorful sound of life back when truth kept us both inside the lines. 
I thought order was helping me draw closer to you, while you began on the next 
page without me. The needle digs it's way into my ape-shaped forearm. 
I'm directed by the guitar string shaped veins 
that only play notes in the keys of D# E# A# F# and the sharp sounds pierce 
my perception to the point I can hardly hear your voice anymore. 

At times, listening to the same old sad song on repeat makes me think
that I am just an old soul getting repeatedly tossed around in God's 
big barrel of human paradox. "Lord what was I made for? Surely it wasn't 
to repeat the mistakes of my forefathers, because I'm certain I am the 
only one you molded with forearms so large, that the record got lost 
and forgot how to spin in circles. Music is all about art, and art all about 
perception. Perception has nothing to do with your eyesight, and 
you use your ears to envision the painting on a blank canvas before picking 
anything else up but sound waves. I drive myself crazy sometimes when 
I think that my inspiration is speeding away from me in the 
opposite lane, but I didn't even ask for directions. Mostly because I'm a man, 
a stubborn one at that, and I always think I know where I'm going. 
But this time, I swear I had gotten the map right. So I transformed my open 
hands into tight fists to make music burst out of my arms, and the needle went 
faster and faster until it broke off, and the high pitched vibration 
disintegrated the steel into my own blood. I blame myself for letting this 
be the first time to let myself draw some air into my body. A surgery of 
scalpels cutting into my physical, and an orchestral symphony of sutures, 
threading my life back together again. My blue blood turns crimson as it kisses the air. 
Why do we associate the color red with life and vibrancy, when it clearly shows that we are letting our own blood run down our arms? Why do so many women where red lipstick; the kind that sticks to your collar, screaming to your wife that you clearly sinned? 
Why do we see sin so clearly; transparent enough for others to correct us before we really we even grasp the desire to fix ourselves? AND WHY IN THE WORLD IS THIS MUSIC PLAYING SO LOUDLY NOW; when my needle broke off into my body a long time ago, and I can hardly hear you anymore.
Good thing my life's song still isn't completely written yet. Let's add a more positive climax to this. One drawn in harmony.