Autumn Personification Poems | Examples

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


Premium MemberThe Silent Kiss

"For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed." - beautifulnow.is
 
          Autumn tiptoed in after summer.
  I reminisce of the silent kiss 
she left as droplets on the delicate florets 
of one beautiful, bright chrysanthemum.
        Her early morning tryst went undetected
   until the evidence of it glistened
in the light of a sweet September dawn.

            I spotted that lovely mum blushing pink
from the visit Autumn made just before King Sun peeked down
       from his throne of gold on high in the brilliant sky
when he caught the goddess bidding a fond farewell
     to the flower she had been deliciously romancing.

Too many times to count has Autumn visited
     other flowers, leaving her fleeting touch of love
which puts a glow on their pretty petaled faces,
           but each of her kisses is evanescent.
In that moment I recall, one chrysanthemum 
             glowed most gloriously from the silent kiss.


Premium MemberA DOG'S LIFE

A DOG'S LIFE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I reign as king in a sovereignty supreme.
I sit by your side gazing, the world whizzing by.
From a rolled down window, a kaleidoscope of colors mesmerize.

My ears flapping wildly, a joyful delight.
The rush of air, a thrill to my canine soul.
As we speed along, the highway our open road. 

The engine purrs, a tranquil hum.
The sun beats down, a warm embrace.
The miles fly by, like autumn leaves dancing down a street.

I feel alive in this wild, open space.
The scent of freedom, a fragrance so sweet.
The thrill of adventure, a canine story to tell.

My tail wags freely, a happy beat.
The wind in my fur, a soothing caress.
Surely this canine has been blessed.

The sun begins to set, a fiery glow.
The stars appear, a twinkling show.
The engine slows, a gentle ease.

Our journey's come to an end.
I snuggle close, a contented sigh.
For it's a dog's life, and I am hypnotized.

Premium MemberThe death of leaves

The mighty wind buffets
And the trees cry bitter tears
I try to hang on to my limb
         "Don't let go!"
shutting my eyes to the debris 
     
                                        I'm torn loose, 

                                                               blown away
    
                     through the empty air


                                                   nothing to cling to
     
panic sparks as I'm rolled
                                            over 
                                                     and 
                                                               over
     pulled this way................................... then that
  



                           too much wide open space
     



I'm battered against something solid
breaking,
                cru
                      mb
                            ling into dry pieces
I 
fall 
to 
the 
ground
           into a mass grave 
of mirror images. mirror images
     mirror images. mirror images

Maybe the Wind Could Tell

Wind, winds—why do I feel this way?
The connection in me feels the disconnection of leaves
Fleeting, hoping, embracing the feel of nostalgia.
But, should I call it loneliness?
Why do leaves let go?
Is it really a painful metamorphosis, or just a transformation of seasons?
Why do my feelings go with wind, is it the part of me I’ve been longing for?
Since when did I lose you? Since when did the leaves let go and follow you?
Am I,
Okay?
Hopeful?
Better?

Maybe the wind could tell.

Premium MemberPrickles the Gust

“How-do-you-do?” the seminal leaves of Autumn wave.
“When would you like to fly away?” prickles the gust.
Maternal-oak holds on tight as one birdy takes flight.

The gust will have none of this ballyhoo, knowing
what he must do, calls for fingernails-on-chalkboard rain,
for the bad-wolf-wind, for lightning, insane.

“Toodle-loo,” says each spiderling-leaf, parachuting to earth.
They make such a scene; whirligig and wandering,
each drenched in colloquial colors, memorable, forsaken.

Each one in turn catches a potential eye even as it lands
in puddles, whirling and twirling, a final splash. They mourn
as blends of orange, yellow and red bleed into the stream.

Undignified, decomposing, going under, all poetry spent,
dwarfing and drifting; washed away down the drain.
Spring regeneration haphazardly avoids loose-leaf goosebumps.


Premium MemberOctober’s Song

October’s voices sing to the rhythm of my soul- 
Calling me to come,
Urging me to experience anew
The bounty of her being.

She is poetry
Moved in repetition yearly,
Enticing me to journey into the outside
To play while the sun shines still and
The wind blows warmly.

“Come!
Taste the richness of my colors.
See the fragrant late blooms.
Hear the reds and yellows, and oranges sing vibrantly throughout the hills
Smell the textures of the nearby farmland 
Feel the living things reach out and gather all into October’s arms.
Wrap yourself in her earthly blanket woven in Heaven’s loom.
Come!”

October’s voices recite repeatedly her lyrical song.
"Come!
Leave your books, your tools, your duties for the time is short.
The trees shout joyously in the delight of day!
Come! Come into the outside
While the sun still shines and 
The wind blows warmly."

Lotus

Ineffably, I explore the width of the earth, my sillage an ode to life. Smile of serenity.
I lotus, exude wisdom as I age in stage, petals fade like memories, in purity. Parade akin chameleon. Spin in mud, reawaken like purged Alchemy In your garden. 

I ignite your aesthetic apex, stealing glances I see. Sips from my kiss, butterflies pollinate my ears, lured by the susurrous laments, birds slumber on my blooming arms. Chipmunks like drunks, dart on my toes.
Bees dance in the air, mate like spiders.

Premium MemberGeranium


“If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.”– Frances Hodgson Burnett

Though I’m unable to bear the coldest days,
My heart is eager when they put me on display,
All my buds and blooms seem like a blaze,
Vibrant hues of scarlet and cerise smile hooray!

Summer silences all my doubts about being enough.
With the sunlit reflections mirroring my soul,
There are even days when I feel like hot stuff.
It is assured that my splendor can surely console!

Melancholic when autumn calls my name,
Promising me a future without blossoms or leaves,
It won’t be very long and I’ll bow my head in shame,
My summer heart hides amid shadows as she grieves!

Premium MemberI Shall Not Fall

Within my depths ancient murmurs arise.
As had Phoenix, I had burned to ashes.
Yet I rise to strew the day with surprise
as I flourish in brilliantine flashes.

I am boisterous and blatantly loud
in voice and also in buff appearance. 
Gregarious and bold, merging from cloud,
I fold my wings in show of forbearance.

My wings beat chill that draws color to fore,
irrefutably majestic and grand.
My winds blow promise not seen heretofore
as I spread my majesty o'er the land.

I am applauded as glorious Fall
but I shall not - I shall rise above all!

Premium MemberAutumn Time

In the crisp autumn air
as the golden sun embraces
the countryside devoid of leaves
the recent canopy of colours
fell like a constant stream of confetti
the soft breath of wind blew
leaving trees standing naked
only the scent of pines hung heavily
cooler air carried it's fragrance
the crevices clung onto the leaves
daring the wind to blow them away
others  caught in the wind
dancing for glee whirling and twirling
swaying to and fro in a country wind hoe down.

Premium MemberWhy

Why must l leave now?”
Autumn asked with raised eyebrow
“One month more, will you allow?”
Winter said “Just go,
I must make the cold winds blow
And frost all with ice and snow”

Premium MemberA Caterpillar Dreams

A soft mist clings to the horizon
A lazy sun bleeding through it
Seeping into the fading darkness

A yellow-orange streak darts
Across the silence of the pond
Shouting to the feathered choir

A Sunflower yawns
Tipping its head slightly
Wiggling its roots

A weary Muskrat sighs
Too late comes the dawn
Too soon the sunset

A rose petal falls
Rippling the pond
A caterpillar dreams of wings

Premium MemberAutumn Is Loving Herself

School has started, the plaids are walking in place
We are cheering for our football teams
Loving mustard colored gourds and pumpkins
Autumn is loving her power as we decorate

Premium MemberWind

I have blown by the rock of Gibraltar
 and whispered to the waves of the sea
 I have heard the dolphins laughter
 as I travel ever free

 I have been to the highest mountain
 Cause I journey far and wide
 I am here in every season
 From me you cannot hide

 In summer I will gently caress your face
 But in winter I'll be fierce
 I'll be there in spring's embrace
 In autumn, the leaves I'll chase

 8-26-2023
© Joseph May  Create an image from this poem.

Premium MemberGust

Whispering, often hushed –
	through oaks and pines,
jaded hopes, inviting – the music
of a prayer, free as light, glimpsing –

yesterday, breaking through the spirit
	intimate and buttery as the sun,
risking every breathless talent  –
portraying each smile in a gentling touch

Kissing away the past with a kindness
	gasping, sighing, soothing away
each teardrop, the dew in all its delight,
sliding tenderly along the petal, blessings

inspiring the music of the air, brisk in autumn,
	soundless, in peaceful prayers,
reminding the spirit to listen to the stillness,
the embrace of a life, bruised by the endless…

need for a moment when the color of hope
wasn’t written on the promises of my laughing
gust, the music – far too magnificent, harmonizing
with sun’s tender spark, night’s soft dark – zephyr song

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