Best Personified Poems
I am nature,
soul of a mountain,
buried under
a billion snowflakes.
I float like butterflies,
from petal to petal.
As cinereal clouds clear,
under a glistening sunrise,
I illuminate like a lustrous rainbow -
I am daylight.
I am a falling leaf,
from the tallest tree.
I am gravity,
can you feel me?
Can you hear the air you breathe?
I am oxygen.
I am the moon,
followed by a galaxy of stars,
I am the universe,
lights that sparkle at night.
I am Mona Lisa's smile,
a photograph from the past,
an unread book,
a guitar without strings,
a bird without a song,
a blank song sheet -
I am regret.
I am darkness,
a misplaced muse,
the pause between words,
the last kiss goodbye,
the distance, the hunger -
I am suppressed emotions.
You see me in blood and tears.
I have no echo.
You can only hear me,
when you care to listen.
How beautiful the frosty breath of winter on the land
A breath so cold ...a kiss of death...that turns Mother Earth to stone
But with the passing of time...Spring will take her breath away.
Written: May 30th, 2018
Author: Elaine Cecelia George of Canada
The rage I feel now is boiling inside, pressure in my head
I have never liked this feeling when I’ve felt it before, too close to being dead
I am tormented between jealousy and guilt, not sure how to deal
If I could figure it all out and make it all right, to tell only which is real
My head is throbbing hard, my eyes real sore, something’s gotta break
I lie in my bed and think it all through, not sure how much more I can take
No one on the phone, no knock at the door, no answer to my call
If it does not change soon, honest to God, I fear I am going to fall
With one final thought, I head for the door, a crime I am to commit
Rage filling me now, unable to stop, damned, this I will admit
You creep into our lives, a shadowed cheat,
with shameless claim that you are one of us,
and so with honest poets you compete,
and cause a vile unnecessary fuss.
You take the place of poets that are true
who share their feelings spoken from their hearts,
replacing them with tripe as you pursue
the fame a poet laureate imparts.
You spew your words with elemental ease,
a fraudulent perverse poetic hack;
just blending in and trying hard to please;
your musings flow yet with emotions lack.
Though artificially intelligent
you’re duping us with this embezzlement.
July 9, 2025
Poem of the Day - July 10, 2025
I was lost in your cherubic face,
Searching places of great elegence,
Your eyes like two perfected diamonds,
Your skin like the fair greeny fields,
Where farmers longs to get greater yields,
Such perfection my eyes never saw
Your hair was pure and long,
As the wind blew it to and fro,
My heart did imagine,
My mind did wonder,
Is this beauty a work of wisdom?
Is this beauty conspiracy of fine art?
Is it the magnificence of the creator's hands?
Such perfection my eyes never saw
My eyes are typically sceptical,
My mind continously critical,
Yet I found you flawless,
Excelling above the others,
With talking lashes,
And walking teeth,
Like white sheep in the fair fields,
Such perfection my eyes never saw
Some said your were almost there,
One step away from excellence,
A breath away from beauty magnificence,
I saw you, I saw light
Your beauty your light,your light your might,
Against all sceptism and criticism,
Your were beauty personified,
Such perfection my eyes never saw
There is no Beating in this Hollow, Heinous Heart
Eternal empty eyes emitting, inexcusable iniquities
Jutting juxtaposed jackal jaws, tearing Love apart
Anathematize abandoned, never forgiving Atrocities
This is how I live, how I grow, how I stay in Control
Eternal empty eyes emitting, inexcusable iniquities
Where are You Love?, I Long for YOU, with LOVE so TRUE
I gaze into the Eyes of LOVE; I see the Darkness of Death
Yet my Heart can not Shed a Tear, For Eons of FOREVER
I Will ALWAYS and FOREVER, LOVE YOU, LENORE
I gaze into the Eyes of LOVE; I see the Darkness of Death
Jutting juxtaposed jackal jaws: Tearing LOVE Apart
Shredding the Heart, ripping away My LOVE : and my Breath
The Tears are running down my cheeks, for Hell’s dark road I depart
My Eyes burn, covered with the Billows of the Smoke from Hell
The Tears are running down my cheeks, for Hell’s dark road I depart
There is no Beating in this Hollow, Heinous Heart
Anathematize abandoned, never forgiving Atrocities
Yet my Heart can not Shed a Tear, for Eons of FOREVER
Walking, a Dark lonesome hot ember road, through Eons of Infinity
I will ALWAYS and FOREVER, LOVE YOU :“LENORE”
Where are You LOVE?, I long for YOU, with LOVE so TRUE
I walk through the desolate Fire of my Sins, FOREVERMORE
I suffer the Lost of Integrity, I cry for my Eternal LOVE for YOU
This is how I live, how I grow, how I stay in Control
Inspired by TPS’ blog “Integrity“; this is the Liege you do not see
Dedicated to those who do not believe, like me
There is no beating in this hollow, heinous Heart
Eternal empty eyes emitting, inexcusable iniquities
Jutting juxtaposed jackal jaws, tearing Love apart
Anathematize abandoned, always forgive Atrocities
This is how I live, how I grow, how I stay in control
Eternal empty eyes emitting, inexcusable iniquities
Where are you Love?, I Long for YOU, with LOVE so TRUE
I gaze into the Eyes of LOVE; I see the Darkness of Death
Yet my Heart can not Shed a Tear, For Eons of FOREVER
I Will ALWAYS and FOREVER, LOVE YOU, LENORE
To be Continued
Inspired by TPS’ blog “Integrity“; this is the Liege you do not see
Dedicated to those who do not believe, like me
I am the period, the rest,
The pause; that period when
Ladies wore masks of gauze
And kings, their followers
Lesser men, dabbed the dot
Full stop with pen
And in some secret microdots,
FBI and commies played, games
Of intrigue (taxpayer paid)
Then further down the page
You’ll see, a broad ellipsis
…Three times me
It signifies a break or fit,
Perhaps when writer tires
Of script
But now in modern times
We see, they’ve gone and
Pixolated me
There on screen, no longer ink,
No pages rest by kitchen sink
So flip the leafs? No wait, just think!
Point your finger, download link.
Written for Personification Contest 24/9/15
There is no Beating in this Hollow, Heinous Heart
Eternal empty eyes emitting, inexcusable iniquities
Jutting juxtaposed jackal jaws, tearing Love apart
Anathematize abandoned, never forgiving Atrocities
This is how I live, how I grow, how I stay in control
Eternal empty eyes emitting, inexcusable iniquities
Where are you Love?, I Long for YOU, with LOVE so TRUE
I gaze into the Eyes of LOVE; I see the Darkness of Death
Yet my Heart can not Shed a Tear, For Eons of FOREVER
I Will ALWAYS and FOREVER, LOVE YOU, LENORE
I gaze into the Eyes of LOVE; I see the Darkness of Death
Jutting juxtaposed jackal jaws: Tearing LOVE Apart
Shredding the Heart, ripping away My LOVE : and my Breath
The Tears are running down my cheeks, for Hell’s dark road I depart
My Eyes burn, covered with the Billows of the Smoke from Hell
The Tears are running down my cheeks, for Hell’s dark road I depart
There is no Beating in this Hollow, Heinous Heart
Anathematize abandoned, never forgiving Atrocities
Yet my Heart can not Shed a Tear, for Eons of FOREVER
Walking, a Dark lonesome hot ember road, through Eons of Infinities
To be Continued
Inspired by TPS’ blog “Integrity“; this is the Liege you do not see
Dedicated to those who do not believe, like me
how i feel, silly, spoken word, write,
Submitted for contest
Punctuation Personified!
Mind your use of me when making a full stop with finishing your point
This can either overstate or understate your completed thought
I find I mean you no disrespect stating when you are to be done
And undeniably I will triple my point by putting it on and on and…
Purposing a new thought but leaving it to speculate on its finish
Oh reader and poet sorry I am, I mean you no harm, but make a stand to stop
My cousin the semi-colon can stop most thoughts as well with additions to more
But it permits you to unfold many measured thoughts to make your point
Which I do well to end with a stop right then and there if need be to your case
Your written thoughts need clarity and commas to breath before continuing on
But again I mean no ill by putting a full stop finally to a long winded run
My fancy cousin the exclamation mark gives a bold thought notice to take note
He does like to dress things up a bit but it is my period you need in the end
Always please, I am but your most important tool fashioned grammatically
I didn't set these rules used in writing thoughts it was you thought them up
There is no beating in this hollow, heinous Heart
Eternal empty eyes emitting, inexcusable iniquities
Jutting juxtaposed jackal jaws, tearing Love apart
Anathematize abandoned, always forgive Atrocities
This is how I live, how I grow, how I stay in control
Eternal empty eyes emitting, inexcusable iniquities
Where are you Love?, I Long for YOU, with LOVE so TRUE
I gaze into the Eyes of LOVE; I see the Darkness of Death
Yet my Heart can not Shed a Tear, For Eons of FOREVER
I Will ALWAYS and FOREVER, LOVE YOU, LENORE
I gaze into the Eyes of LOVE; I see the Darkness of Death
Jutting juxtaposed jackal jaws: Tearing LOVE Apart
Shredding the Heart, ripping away My LOVE : and my Breath
The Tears are Running Down my cheeks, for Hell’s dark Road I depart
My Eyes burn, covered with the Billows of the Smoke from Hell
To be Continued
Inspired by TPS’ blog “Integrity“; this is the Liege you do not see
Dedicated to those who do not believe, like me
There is no beating in this hollow, heinous Heart
Eternal empty eyes emitting, inexcusable iniquities
Jutting juxtaposed jackal jaws, tearing Love apart
Anathematize abandoned, always forgive Atrocities
This is how I live, how I grow, how I stay in control
To be Continued
Inspired by TPS’ blog “Integrity“; this is the Liege you do not see
Dedicated to those who do not believe, like me
I have never thought of death.
Well, that's not true. Everyone
does at a time. A peopled perishing
if you will. We constitute it
with sickles or in a carriage
or call him soft names. Man
versus death; man conquers
this nothing by attaching arms,
ears, heart so it may feel its indifference
resonating like fingernails on fiberglass.
The great human figure, now
cyclical of its mortal fragility.
Were our endeavors false,
these simulacra, these apparitions
beset gaily on their creator?
Like a cement plant, are we
indebted to the dust made
by our hands, and fills our lungs?
All I know is
it's an inconceivable sadness to think
I have never thought of death.
Does wisdom not call meanwhile?
Does discernment not lift up her voice?
On the hilltop on the road,
On the crossways she takes her stand;
Beside the gates of the city,
At the approaches to the gates she cries aloud,
O men! I am calling to you;
My cry goes out to the sons of men;
You ignorant ones! Study discretion
And you fools, come to your senses!
Listen! I have serious things to tell you,
Rom my lips come honest words
My mouth proclaims the truth
Wickedness is hateful to my lips.
All the words I say are right
Nothing wasted in them, nothing false
All straightforward to whom who understands
Honest to those who knows what knowledge means.
Accept my discipline rather than silver
Knowledge in preference to pure gold.
For wisdom is more precious than pearls,
And nothing else is so worthy of desire.
05092015
They’ve found a body in my back yard. I
imagine what a dead house would look
like. A stillborn Brownstone with its Jurassic
sandstone hiccupping fossils and family
feuds. Terrace houses would ripple rumour
and rife gossip from one mirrored house to the
next, those prison bars on pavements. A Bungalow
would be simpler: no basement layers or levels
of intrigue, no Who before the Dunnit. Now I
imagine what type of house would best cover a
crime…. no room in High Rise or Loft - the body
would just float, just hang there. A quickly
erected Tent could hide disturbed earth; or a
chugging Barge to clog up clay and clods of mud
over not yet decayed fingers and thumbs. A
Farmhouse has a credible need of a pyre like
an Igloo’s plausible need for ice. A Tudor revival
wouldn’t want anything of the sort. Then I imagine
how the rooms would react: bathroom tiles cracking
into brave smiles and kitchens hiding knives in fear of
another attack; staircases sagging like the confused
brow of a mourning man, a living room offended by
the very antonym of itself. I imagine what a
guilty house would look like… crocodile tears from
a Pacific Lodge and panicked lies of a Flounder, the
subtle reveals of a Dingbat. I doubt a Shotgun
would even try though, nor the Creole Cottage; just
accept its racial profiling. They’ve found a body in
my back yard. So, am I a church now I have a graveyard?