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Personification History Poems | Personification Poems About History

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

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Details | ekphrasis |

Black Sunday {Personification in Couplet form}

I was as high as the eyes could see
A giant dark cloud of pure misery

I seemed to roll as one with the wind
A giant black wall that had no end

I stripped the land and left it bare
Of the lives I destroyed, I didn’t care

Those who stayed I covered in dust
As their children died I broke their trust

From my hell many families did flee
Left to wander homeless in misery

I changed the word these words are true 
Black Sunday brought darkness on you

I didn't see any direct link but just goggle
pictures of the dust bowl and you will see
what i have written for Brian's Contest.
The Dust Bowl - Alexandre Hogue - 1937

Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009

Details | Personification |

One Valley Oak

The day I died,  a village cried
and tears washed to the river's side

I meant the world, to my survivors
A Valley Oak......yes, that was me...
A stately tree with history
They drew from me a sense of pride
Four hundred years, I had sheltered them
with limbs that reached up to the sky.
I stood my ground, through all the rain
They understood, my worth, my veins
ran deeper than the eye could see

FOUR HUNDRED YEARS!.....Yes, I was old  !!
And blood turned cold the day I fell
You see, I was much more than Oak
I spoke for those who've long been gone.

I reigned beside this countryside
and watched the tribes beneath the sky
I saw the white men, take away
and claim the ground beneath me, found
And soon a way of life would end
And I would bend my boughs, to pray

Four hundred years, I've overlooked
a river bend, below my limbs
I watched the steamboats ferry men
and saw men die, and saw men rise
and saw men carry hope again

And those who came so long ago
would build a town that grew to know
how values and our valiant strides
are deep as roots, as mine that grew

I was not just a simple tree...
I had a place in history...
I sat beside a little house
One still a treasured artifact
Once built along the river's bend,
It now sits naked in my tracks
without the shade that I had lent

The man who  lived here, led a state
The first to govern, in my shade
It is a fact that through the years
I've watched and shed a thousand tears

What will become of what is left?
A town is left, a state bereft
But facts can't change that I was here...
My roots hang tight to yesteryear

They've grieved, and shed their tears for me
when winds prevailed, and down I fell
I wish them well, and if I can
.....I'll try to surge from down within
            perhaps one root will sprout,  and tell
              my leaves to find the breeze again

Inspired By Tree Personification Contest
Sponsor....Charlotte Puddifoot
Based on the actual tree that came down in my home town

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015

Details | Personification |

Sacred Seat: A Chair's Tale

The first thing that I recall knowing
As a sturdy and young olive tree
Extremely well rooted and growing
Was the sweltering sunlight on me

For two centuries I took deep root
To prepare for my ultimate fate
So when I could no longer bear fruit
There was then but a decade to wait

I was cut—left to dry for ten years
So that seasoned I’d perfectly be
For what the carpenter engineers
For admirers my beauty to see

Finally, the time came to carve me
Into the stout piece that would bear
The One who came down from His glory
I’d become a rough-hewn olive chair

Into the great city I traveled
The same city once fated for doom
Through alleys, then up a steep stairway
I was put in a small upper room

Beside the simple wooden table
I was placed in center position
Where the King who was born in a stable
Sat prepared to accomplish His mission

He prayed and broke bread with His brothers
As a symbol of what He would do
He blessed it then passed to the others
As His body; ’twas "broken for you"

Then to signify His precious blood
The red wine from the cup He did sip
So that it could cleanse as a flood
As from nail wounds it later would drip

To this day, I still can remember
How it felt when Christ Jesus did rest
I sensed that His love was so tender
Even when He was put to the test

He said, “Father, Father, forgive them”
As He faced His long prophesied death
The love for all things He had poured out
As He uttered His very last breath

Today, the risen Lord I remember
Whose story has long since been told
As I sit in the same dusty chamber
And recall that Last Supper of old

* Placed 1st in Deborah Guzzi's contest, "The Chairs Tale"

Copyright © Donna Golden | Year Posted 2009

Details | Personification |

Once so small and precious

I once was important, folks cared about me, 
Keeping me safe in a special bound book.
And in this book I had perfect stylized sheets, 
Folks would gaze, remember and look

At every small detail that they could see, 
Treasuring the moment in time that I was,
Treasuring the true honest faces all over my skin,
Treasuring me simply because

Their films only held maybe twenty small moments, 
And folks waited for the shop to call,
There was no other way to capture that time, 
Every time I was hung from the wall.

But now I’m replaced with a million small selfies,
The same silly person with the same silly face,
Now I’m so unimportant, forgotten in seconds, 
I’m your small, precious photo remembering a place.

Copyright © Lewis Raynes | Year Posted 2017

Details | Personification |

The Chair {Personification} In Couplet Form

I sit at the end of your final stroll
Setting you free is my only goal

At the end of your life so tired and beat
I quietly offer, “Please take a seat”

I suddenly notice as you’re strapped in
Your victim’s father cracks a wide grin

For this day he has waited so many years
Is that your mother shedding all of those tears?

I’m sorry; you thought I would be all polite
Boy I am the darkness you fear in the night

Thomas Edison got the fame for inventing me
Though it was Harold P. Brown; a loyal employee

The first to meet me met a fiery fate
In 1890 I released William Kemmler’s hate

In 1899 Martha Place came to dance with me
First woman fried in the entire world’s history

I truly enjoy when I get to serve company
Especially delicious was my friend Ted Bundy

To one simple fact there is truly no doubt
I’m the gateway to Hell, come on check it out

 I was truly invented to serve just one goal
I’m simply here to separate the body and soul

They all think their evil until them and I meet
I’m Sizzling Sally please come taste my heat

Old Smokey, Old Sparky hell it’s all the same
Smoke them or fry-em boys this is my game

Written for Deborah's contest

Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009

Details | Personification |

Southern Live Oak

I have grown old and twisted with all my living;
my limbs gnarled and arthritic,
my skin rough, sometimes peeling,
turning dark beneath the sun.
Bunions and corns decorate my feet.
What a life I have lived!

In my youth, young natives sat on tender grasses at my feet;
i sheltered them in coolness,
i listened to their vows of love.
Months later, they returned to me holding the joy of new life.
I rocked their papoose in my arms,
the wind sighing lullabies through my evergreen hair
making the silver moss, hanging on my tresses, sway.
I saw them leave before the growing strength of new settlers,
weeping as they walked away from this beloved land.

A wealthy man settled the grounds where I spread my roots;
I grew and wrapped my arms around the home he built.
I was young then, strong and full of vigor;
I was the watchman at the door.

I enjoyed many years with the family,
playing with the children,
giving shade and shelter.
Early one morning, the sounds of war disturbed my sleep;
all day the battle raged.
Cannon balls ripped through my flesh;
I heard the anguished screams.
When the sun set, 
the ground beneath my feet was littered 
with the broken bodies of men,
dead and dying,
soldiers uniformed in both blue and gray.
Our beautiful home was nearly destroyed,
our land ravaged.
If men could only learn, as I know,
to respect and care for one another.
As time passed, my limbs healed, 
through scarred, just as my heart is scarred.

Generations have come and gone,
each one passing close to my heart in fleeting succession,
but I live on.
Age shows on my body, yet I cling more tightly,
stretching deep into the ground, sucking the earth's sweet nourishment.
My arms droop low, hanging heavy with sad and happy memories.

I do not want to leave this dear, fair earth,
the tears of heaven fall,
trickling down,
bathing me in dewy sadness.

A thousand years is not enough.

Copyright, August 22, 2015
Faye Lanham Gibson

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Personification |

Just Call Me Mr Spy

Just Call Me Mr. Spy


I’m from an ancient world, and we have never met, and never will.
However, much like presently, in my day, people lived for the thrill.

I experienced that world’s greatest tragedy, and lived to tell the story.
I am not the bravest, smartest, or most beautiful; but I made history.

People of old loved and laughed, and also ate and drank to the fill.
They bought and sold, not worrying about who would pay the bill.

They fell in love and married; and separated, adulterated, and fornicated.
They detoured from their ancestors’ standards, and greatly deteriorated.

Yes, they were civilized sometimes, but also immoral and very violent.
It’s predicted that your world will be just like mine, before the Second Advent.

They were liberated, sophisticated, and also educated in their own way.
They were warned, but never bothered to change, until a deluge came one day.

There was an old man with a wife and three sons, who also had wives.
They worked hard and loved everybody, but also lived good and clean lives.

I know all these things because I was there, observing and raising my family.
That is, until the old man brought me and others into a big boat he built for his family.

You see, I was Noah’s raven, and was blessed to go on that world’s greatest trip.
And you can call me Mr. Spy, because I was the first one to leave the big ship. 

03042016 PS Contest, A Tomb of Ancient Bloom, Justin Bordner

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Personification |

A Face Down Penny

I’ve been engulfed by the darkness
That plagues so many of my brothers.
My eyes may be open,
But the void is all that appears.
I see nothing, Know nothing, Learn nothing.
Forced to lay in wait
For prying fingers to liberate me
From my upturned prison.
Oh, how I yearn,
For the light of day
To dance before my presidential eyes,
Allowing me, to once again,
Experience a broad mixture of colors
Living in unity.
A scenario that is no longer the fantasy
Of an incompetent individual
Looking to influence a closed society,
But a way of life
For present day.
As I reflect on my days of flesh,
Still no-one comes to my assistance,
This makes me wonder
If the world I speak of
Still continues to exist,
Or if I’m doomed to spend eternity alone
Within the bleak darkness,
Dreaming once again
Of a world that no longer requires my influence…

Copyright © Daniel Lehto | Year Posted 2014

Details | Personification |

The Look of Love

Eyes so bright with a light that shines, 
You brought this to me.
Lost time the two that be!
Eyes of light with the look of love in sight!
Eyes that glare with a gleam that shows,
You revealed this to me.
Things to know the two that be!
Eyes that dream with the look of love or so it seemed,
Eyes with tears a promised pain,
You gave this to me.
A list that I retain the two that be!
You are the eyes that clear the look of loves hidden fears.
Eyes with mystery shine in you,
You lay this before me.
So much I do the two that be!
Eyes with dignity the look of love in all of its reality! 
Eyes with deepness a reflection of you,
You presented this to me.
A lie in my truth the two that be!
Eyes with achievement the look of love in all of its completeness!
Eyes of you in a vision of me,
Forever you and me until I die the two that be,
For you’re the eyes that already knew the look of love with its promise renewed!

© COPYRIGHT:   1997   ANN RICH   

Copyright © Ann Rich | Year Posted 2010

Details | Personification |

Intersection of Justice and Mercy


is not the sound:

of a banging gavel,

as the result of a man's decision.

It is found in the laughter of orphans,

or in the quiet tears of a widow's distress.

Justice, does not announce its presence noisily,

nor does it appeal to mere reason or fleeting thought.

It is in the silence of a still moment that it rushes in.

A flood of rescue, a team of unsung heroes, without banners.

In the simple embrace of a father to the orphaned, or mother to the widow.

There it is found in the least likely of places, the free offering of smiles.

An undeserved torrent of kindness that drowns out history's pain,

giving a new and beautiful fragrance to the debris left by injustice.

Tears lose their sting, they become source of life watering souls,

satisfaction is no longer measured by simple shelters, or full

bellies, and clothed bodies; this is not true contentment.

Joy ignited by the embers of love, fueling life.

Purpose, not dependent on fiscal wealth,

a life becomes a raging wildfire,

made visibly tangible,


Copyright © Bethlehem Derseh | Year Posted 2011

Details | Personification |

Moon Goddess

Beautiful Selene.
Can you not fold your wings 
and leave the heavens ?
You have done enough.

Watching from your lofty home.
Moving across the stars,
inspiring lovers 
with your serene 

Effecting ebb and flow
in the waters of life.
Can you not still 
your power and rest.

Oh to take your place beside
Endymion, your lover.
And lie forever in the written word.

But you are Luna, the moon
personified into divine existence 
living in the true world.

Jul 05 2010 For Dr. Mehta’s Luna contest

Copyright © Charles Henderson | Year Posted 2010

Details | Personification |

Fit For A Queen

Just look at me,
I am so old,
my paint if peeling,
from being so cold.

If I could talk,
you would know my pain,
and know I am royalty,
with a very special name.

Once I lived,
in a castle on a hill,
until those thieves,
came to steal.

You guessed it right,
they grabbed me up,
and out the door,
along with other stuff.

Then I was sold,
to a circus in town,
and rocked, and rocked,
all the famous clowns.

A nice lady saw me,
and offered some cash,
bought me new clothes,
with a bright red sash.

When she passed,
I was sold again,
then across the ocean,
to a brand new land.

Now here I sit,
in my brand new home,
again, the center of attention,
it has been so long.

Copyright © Christy Hardy | Year Posted 2009

Details | Personification |

Vincent's Chair 1888

I sat there all alone,
After many visitors
Have come and gone.

Then I met an artist,
Who graced me with his presence;
A peculiar man I must insist.

He asked to paint my portrait,
An offer I couldn’t protest,
So I sat there feeling irate.

Now I’m cemented in history,
Through one man’s passion for art,
Each painting a truelove story.

So, to the man with orange hair,
I’ll always value our friendship;
I am known as “Vincent’s Chair.”

Inspired by Deborah Guzzi’s 
The Chairs Tale contest and
The Painting “Vincent’s Chair” 
By Vincent Van Gogh-1888

Copyright © Abe Lopez | Year Posted 2009

Details | Personification |

the Last word of a hunter(II)

The forest might not be mine,
But in my dreams i still cross that line.
my memories cant be forgotten
as i picture animals getting rotten.
I still want to hunt with pain,
but not to dream with any blood stain.
No to hunting,taking all animals as a pet
I hold them with care without a bullet,
though I have a meal without flesh
 is like drinking water which is not fresh.
my career is no longer  to kill,
But to watch the forest from a hill
My last words as I hunt no more
As I enjoy nature by the shore.

Copyright © Amin Tres | Year Posted 2009

Details | Personification |

168 Empty Chairs

On the morning of April 19, 1995, Terror was heard through the Oklahoma sky. At 9:02 A.M. the explosion did occur, And the blue common day turned into a blur. A memorial was built to mark the state’s loss, Memorializing the one’s who paid terror’s cost. A monument of seats stands brightening the night, In nine rows of chairs illuminated by lights. Brokenhearted and lonely we seem to be, Silent and lonely but forever empty. Built with emotion for who we symbolize, In our bronze grain lies the pain of lost lives. Born from molted bronze, given life through death, We stand here for those who took their last breath. But from where we stand, we stand with glee, For in our sights lives the Survivor Tree. Married together in this sacred place, Imparting to those mercy and grace. When families come here to see and reflect Our memories live on as our loved ones connect. Names of young and old we proudly bear; In nine rows of 168 empty chairs. _______________________ Inspired by Deborah Guzzi’s —The Chairs Tale Contest— You can take a virtual tour at http://www.oklahomacitynationalmemorial.org

Copyright © Raul Moreno | Year Posted 2009

Details | Personification |

The House

It remembers time that has flown by.
Its' sister, though smaller, holds equal character.
Their neighbor has seen many more years and people. 
They hold a common bond upon the land which they share together.
But they are in danger, the homes are old and in need of partial repair.
Their neighbor, a mound, must protect its' ancient contents.
They have hope though, many are working to preserve and protect the three friends.
They will soon be able to tell their stories to a younger generation.

    (For Nila Chaddock and other Cockayne house workers)

Copyright © Leah Yoho | Year Posted 2008

Details | Personification |

The End Day

At the day of tribulations'
Reckless deeds' and end 
Of time
Your consternation
Beguiles' me
And is relative to me
The Lord is He
The maker of mammon
Hath made his bound
Of inequity
The trove and treasure
Of the unholy
Which the un-holy of thee
Shall never resist


Copyright © Gary Fields | Year Posted 2011

Details | Personification |

The Crucified Church

Stained glass windows
Paint her world-
In shades of
Lavender and rose-
As she sits alone
Atop of old point road-
In a place where
Bygone phantoms blow-

No one comes to visit
With her anymore-
The whispers 
From the pines-
She reminisces with
Of better times-
Before the cross 

Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2006

Details | Personification |

veterans of the usa

the flag that flies above our head			
was put there by the people who are dead
you know, the veterans of the usa
the ones YOU seem to forget about everyday

they went to war for years at a time
and they barely even got a dime
come on people, you are here because of them
this is not pretend

your lives are free
even since you were three
these men were brave
and it was freedom that they crave

as the men and women enter the battlefield
with the guns they weild
all they could think about was their life
 their hearts beat as they grip their knife

all they heard were bullets fly
would this be their last goodbye?
will i never see them again?
the love, family and friends
 could this be the end? 

as the brave soldiers marched along
they sang this song....

"left,left, left right left....left...left left right left....we fight for freedom, lets defend this 
flag that flies above our heads....red, white, and blue...these colors are 
TRUE!!!!..... lord grip our 
hearts and give us strength to win this fight for freedom and save this wonderful 

the sounds of 100,000 men and women
with different thoughts within
medics stand by
waiting for the next to die

and we sit at home
some as still as a gnome
people listen to the news
and some people sit and play depressing blues

another man dies
another bullet flies
bombs left and right
oh please STOP this might!!!

loved ones falling on the feild
with a picture of their loved ones in their hand they weild
another one digs a grave
for the ones who were brave

Copyright © Donald Hull III | Year Posted 2007

Details | Personification |

about the poet

I have dreams to flashes n from time 
to time I decide to put them down n 
people to read I'm plain n simple no 
big word nor complex easy to read 
,wht I try to say n explain sometimes 
is hard so I give up n go months 
without writing, I do this to relax, 
from the 4 books n many mini storys i 
keep coming up with,like I say, I live 
in a dream where people pay for me 
to tell n they get amazed when I tell 
them, thts not a dream thts how my 
life has been n how I lived it n have 
not gone insane, well not yet !."oh 

Copyright © felipe santiago | Year Posted 2011

Details | Personification |

I Found Love

I found Love

As you put your arms around me and tell me not to let.
I can't break free cause I want this,
Tired of feeling lonely
tired of waiting until i fall under the
 ground.No matter what 
anyone says as long as I say it fine 
everything and everyone
has no word.I found love, this isn't like before 
this is where my 
wounds that I've licked and cover only to 
have them opened again.
I will always fear,i will hide this emotion until i 
know I'm going to fall
but for now i have this love this love that no one gave me 
can you see me dancing in the rain of the moonlight and 
your arms around me 
saying that you love me I do.I'll leave in fear of being hurt 
but i will pass this life and the next with the wills of my
 past life and the future of the next.

Copyright © Marcedies Rhodes | Year Posted 2012

Details | Personification |


I am an English man.
I used to think.
That I ruled the world.
And could take my drink.

When all would bow and salute.
The English man a Sir or Duke.
Now I found my place.
In the human race.
We are all the same and grace.

Used to think that everything.
From England came.
Football, oranges and sugar cane.
Used to think that I was best of all.
Now I know, that is not so, at all.

I am as good or bad as the other Lad.
Some fools still make war.
I say no more.
Briton no longer Rules the Waves.
Nor does the sword stay in our hands.
It has been cast away.
Peace to-day.

Copyright © Norman Purvis | Year Posted 2006

Details | Personification |

I will never Forget

I will never forget
that day you made me
to eat hands, buttocks
of pupils in Class Five,
the ones who did not
compute the sums right.
Yet you forgot  that day
to take me back to the tree
you plucked me from
Instead,  kept me safely
in lonely school cupboard!
Let me too enjoy freedom

Copyright © Solomon Ochwo-Oburu | Year Posted 2017

Details | Personification |

I Weep For Thee, O Bethlehem

On a cold, wintry Christmas night
bright light on a manger shone
to fall softly upon a mother mild
cradling her little baby child.

Three wise men followed the stars
to thy beckoning door, Bethlehem,
bringing frankincense and myrrhs
to pay homage to the king.

Thy name is music to mankind's ears
proclaiming forth freedom and hope,
sweet like a chorus by heaven's choir
vanishing darkness and fear.

Yet, two thousand years thereafter,
what became of thee, Bethlehem?
now enclosed within high fences,
inside your captive people keeping.

On those cruel barriers are graffiti
imploring "Make love, not walls";
as I weep for thee, O Bethlehem,
where has thy promise gone?

Bethlehem is a Palestinian-populated city in the West Bank, administered by
the Palestinian Authority. It is now mostly inhabited by Arab Muslims and many 
Arab Christians have left the city and immigrated abroad due to the harsh living
conditions. The city is surrounded by high concrete walls and no one gets in or 
out without clearance from the Israeli Army guarding its checkpoint.

Copyright © Wilfredo Derequito | Year Posted 2007

Details | Personification |


They grazed their sheep upon my grass
So many centuries in the past

In feudal times,a monastery of hope
'Til King Henry divorced the Pope

In later times upon my hill
They set a smock windmill

As Victoria came on her throne
A brewery made this site its own

Later in more social times, a public bath
In which poor folk cleansed at my hearth

The 'sixties brought a different call
Under an impersonal shopping mall

Change continues on,so persistent
But my soil stays,omniscient

Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2008

Details | Personification |


Upon my face of earthenware
So many feet have laid bare
Maiolica wearing thin-
My colours now growing dim
Revealing my kaolin

Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2008

Details | Personification |

You Gaze Upon Me

You gaze Upon Me

You gaze upon me, and I gaze back,
My paint is worn with signs of crack.
All these years you stand in line,
Piercing eyes perceiving to define.
Underneath this oil I never age,
My life laid bare on an open page.
Though I am a woman of fame,
Protective screen hides my frame.
I see disappointment in your eyes,
When you realise I am small in size.
I’ll be here when you are gone,
Through artist eyes, I always shone.
My name is Enigma with a smile,
and you may know me for a while.


Copyright © Kevin Shaw | Year Posted 2017

Details | Personification |

The Statue

I am just a statue
yet you want to tear me down
I cannot harm you
I can only remind you
of either a good time
or a very bad one
in the course of history
yet you want to tear me down
I have nothing to do with the future
I am a reminder of the past
I am irrelivent to your present
or  future events
you can try and erase me but
I will not be the only reminder of past deeds
I sit harming no one yet somehow my past
makes you feel unsettled
I may have been a brutal person but this
piece of stone is just a piece of stone
you cannot change the past
move me to museum or move me to a dump
but don't destroy the art in me
because of the face I represent
you do not burn every picture found
or get rid of the volumes of books
but because I stand in a few feet of earth
I became a hateful reminder to man
if you cannot leave the past behind and 
learn from it
how will you ever learn to live in present 
and not allow me to happen in the future
I look down from my stationary stance
wondering what is to come.

Copyright © Phyllis Babcock | Year Posted 2017