Personification Sorrow Poems | Personification Poems About Sorrow

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

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The Leaf

The leaf has fallen from everything it has known
The wind of despair drags the leaf aimlessly
The leaf can not find refuge from its tormentor
The Leaf begs for mercy

Withered and dry, as others float aimlessly by
Wishing for their company, wanting a friend
But, only receiving an evanescent try
Oh, how fate does not bend

Envy the evergreen
They dance with the wind of melancholy
Never falling from grace, never losing to nature's game
Why are they immortal when the rest wonder the earth alone until death

Crumbling, the wind does not stop, nor does it care too
Falling apart, the earth's soil reclaiming me
Fading away, is this peace, or is this just death
I am lonely, afraid

Copyright © Trevor Barnett | Year Posted 2013

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Cry Of A River

There in the trigger
Of Africa's gun,
Lies a giant river
Rich in culture and wealth.

There's a loud cry
From that river
For an answer
Why she ceased to flow

There's a loud cry
From that river
Why she is
Now filled with tears.

There's a cry
From the fishes,
That has nothing
Nothing else to eat.

There's a cry
From the river
Drenched in her own
Fishes blood.

There's a loud cry
From the river
That has no where to flow
And her pride lost long ago.

There's a cry
From mother fish
That just lost
Another fry.

There's a cry
From the river
That has been abused
And caged.

There's a cry
From Nigeria
For a reason
How she became this.

There's a cry
From the people
Whose pride
Are battered and shatterd.

There's a cry
From the river
Asking how
The rain never falls again.

There's a cry
From an old mother
Who has just
Lost her last child.

There's a cry
From this poet
For a reason
Only heaven knows.

Copyright © Toheeb Tiamiyu | Year Posted 2013

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Reflections of a Mirror

Reflections of a Mirror

You examine me as if 
I am an answer-
As if I am the answer.
You search the reflection
Of your own eyes as if
They can tell you more
Than I already have-
But the answer 
Is always the same
As the question;
I'm only repeating back
What you've already
Told me-
I am only the echo
Of your own
Mirror image...
You look at me and see
If you can't defeat
The compulsion to call me
A liar, then at least
Fight against the impulse
To break me under 
Your fist-
I can not fix you
Or myself,
So try to resist the 
Urge to scream at me
When I can't tell you
What you want to know-
Are you trying to
Test some misguided
Hypothesis that if you 
Show me 
Enough of your soul,
I will crack into 
A reflection of
Your heart?-
Is that why you
Let me see you
When you are too
Ashamed to lift
Your face to meet
The gaze of 
Anyone else?
I have seen you
On every sleepy morning
That came to soon,
And every Friday night
That couldn't have
Come soon enough...
I have seen you
On nights when
You are lonely enough
To look at me and 
Pretend that the face
You see behind the glass
Belongs to another 
Human being-
I have seen
Your tears falling thick
Until the surface of 
My glass and your cheek
Are like synchronized
Window panes pondering
Every hesitant smile that you
You have tried on for size,
Before asking me
What I think...
But I am not an answer...
Only a mirror.

Copyright © Cameron Hartley | Year Posted 2014

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The frozen senses

The frozen senses

The frozen senses, lives again
With a sunshine of hope
Over it, making each pain
Active again, and the fears door ope.

The twinkling dreams which are
Ready for show, the blushing delights
Reluctant, all the years near and far
And all the lows and heights.

Zeniths of glories, ready
To motivate, the disasters of past
Ready to teach, the victories steady,
Failures fast, all are ready to teach at last.
                                                                            Akash Sangwan

Copyright © Akash ripper | Year Posted 2014

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                                A word chosen from prejudice,
                                Something meant to seperate.
                                A word so complexed it serves no justice,
                                For its root is love's hate.

                                It has the meaning to divide the mind,
                                Just as its divided us through time.
                                Generation by generation it shows its face,
                                So to destory the lovers of faith and grace.

                                Its the profiler of colorless hate,
                                Denying those their proper fate.
                                Eliminating the will of others,
                                Causing one to disallow further.

                                Racism has no partner or friend,
                                It always plots to the bitter end.
                                From land to land it spreads
                                Like a weed it moves till things are dead.

                                Its a blackness that seals,
                                Making promises and bad deals.
                                Overspreading a man's will to fight,
                                Taking an taking with its genocodial might.     
                                Racism provides no morals or support
                                For its gender is white/black consotrs.
                                And when rebillion marches against its will,
                                It finers new ways to legally kill.

                                Killing those who defy its plan,
                                Confining them for taking the stand.
                                Yet the power of racism are but heard,
                                For its useage is but a simple word.

Copyright © Michael S. Johnson | Year Posted 2014

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Uneasiness or pain, due to loss best describes my existence,
My name is Sorrow and though many try to avoid me,
No one can keep their distance.

I live strongly in the families of Malcolm X, Dr. King and JFK,
Some use me as an inevitable excuse to escape the every day.
I will never die, though people kill themselves for me to continue my mission,
Whether you be rich, happy, beautiful
I strike you in any condition.

Like a common cold, I don’t disappear, Im just dormant
But happiness is a medicine, not a cure
To strike you, I need no consent

Copyright © Doreen Wright | Year Posted 2012

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Scratchy darkness wraps our souls
Leaving us with empty goals
Sorrow sadness without controls
Road of our lives filled with potholes

Boils in our hearts about to erupt 
Leave our minds filthy and corrupt 
A life so sharp, blunt and abrupt 
We might as well press self-destruct 

Smooth sorrows like roses wilting
Love’s altar jilted tears dripping 
Lies, deceit and fear a woven quilting 
A parquet dance floor awkwardly tilting 

A hungry, cold homeless cry
A frozen tear as a final bye
Soaking wet blankets high
This promise at birth just a lie

Faded moulded dreams decay 
Stone the bastard he is gay
That’s that Old biblical cliché 
Let’s not wait for doomsday 

Copyright © GERT WEWEGE | Year Posted 2016

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To My Soul

Broken, beaten, humbled is my name.
No words to speak, I have little strength to stand.
I am without passion and my hope is faded.
Outwardly I am walking, but without purpose.
My heart can speak, only one word.
Sorrowfully, I scream out “why”?
Why, has my passion died?
Why, has my hope gone cold?
Why, has my vision gone blind?
My soul is sick, it is diseased.
It is plagued by a lack of desire.
My zealous ambition has disintegrated.
My eyes examine my soul; disgusted by such mutilation.
My nose identifies its odor; a repulsive stench of melancholy.
My ears hear its weeping; a wailing of unfathomable sorrow.
My tongue tastes its vomit; a repulsive flavor of discontent.
I am broken, I am beaten, and I am humbled.
To my soul, I ask why?

Copyright © Jonah Guinn | Year Posted 2016

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How you scurry,
On legs eight
Your eyes, many.

How you pick a corner,
Weave a web thick,
And wait.
For your victims, bounteous.

Copyright © Jamie Kehoe | Year Posted 2010

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Wrappings long have been trashed 
A few nics encompass some character 
Sunlight drenched a deteriorated discoloration 
But still bravely I'm standing tall

Dark eyes forlorn for affection
As time's quickly winding down
A misfit struggling for acceptance
Watching others merrily marching on

Basement bottom feelings placate
Another piece of lead has broken off
Retired metal wheels of destruction 
Soon to be lying in a cloud of dust

Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2016

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What did i do so wrong
my life was never a flower or a song
why did you hit me so much
shoving my face in your crotch

i was just a little boy
and i became every-ones toy
at night i cry because i cant tell
just trying to be loved, but oh well.....

all i ever wanted was to belong
always tried to be so strong
this house, that house
bullied for listening to Strauss

i went to hospital for a long time
no-one called or cared a dime
my soul was empty my heart was breakin
i hoped someone loved me but i was mistakin

i found love in a man
and my life just began
then he was taken by a woman in a car
that emptiness left a great big scar

then i found love again and what she gave
a boy and girl, with my eyes, and i felt safe
my life was great i still love them all 
but you ended it, it was your call

so here i am left all alone and scared 
can this damage ever be repaired 
there's this hole in me, i call emptiness 
which i have tried to express

every-time i want to tell you i break down
i want to be strong but now i'm more face-down
i'm becoming a great pretender
with my life line so tender

i'm told every pot has a lid
do you think that is for me forbid

Copyright © GERT WEWEGE | Year Posted 2016

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A Tree That Crumples

I am deceased;
  I perished that day.
    Nothing is left of me,
      I left myself behind.

      There is a new somebody
    alive in the husk
  that once belonged to me
and uses cartilage and skull.

      In death a torment would have ended
      that carries on now
      No flowers on my shrine.

The berth where I was found
no place of pilgrimage.
A tree that crumples
in sorrow.

      Its green petals encompass
    the last of my claret,
  spilt in love
for those who loved me.

I bend down, grasp
  this dry red earth.
    I dig with feeble fingers
      a small hole.

More I do not need.
Sprinkle some water,
and hope one flower
will one day bloom.


February 23, 2017
© Darren White

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017