Metaphor Personification Poems | Examples
These Metaphor Personification poems are examples of Personification poems about Metaphor. These are the best examples of Personification Metaphor poems written by international poets.
Upon a forest floor where many lie
and breezes stir, the upper branches bent
to meet the final breath of shrivelled sigh,
a leaf would cling to heaven’s tears when sent.
Its youthful lustre now recalled through tales
as varied as seasons – verdant meadow
below the clouds which often yield to gales
then scud along periphery of show.
When thermal blast from forest fires above
an ocean scape of waves competing in sound
with rumbling progress fits the Man like glove
through ignorance – eventually hound.
A leaf in woods that’s silent, is the Hope
we need to cling to – shadows rest on slope.
FERTILIZING DROPS
Coming wetness falls;
Guaranteeing Mother Earth's
Terrestrial births:-
Perfection sharpens thy tongue ere thy teeth,
closed door finds a thief’s presence,
oiled talents wear a lifetime,
advocate guilt giving way to the lure,
review robs the core
I am that I am
a thief, soulless, yet art I occupied.
A broom is a flight of fancy
at the witching hour
A machine gun uncased
in peril, it’s power
Waltzing Matilda
on the ballroom floor
Sweeps me away
~ with so much more
You sit upon me all the time
as you compose your latest rhyme.
Yet, you never deign to admit,
it's - what's the word? No, that's not it.
It's time you give me some credit.
Yet, I never make the final edit.
Consider me a hero, unsung,
on which the taint of disregard is flung.
It comes from high, it comes from low.
Don't compare me to driven snow.
It is a thankless job for sure,
so, I wouldn't use that metaphor.
Your poetry makes your guest vomit?
Sure - use me, but don't use Comet.
I ask you with an ironic smile,
Won't you clean me once in a while?
It's time this missive comes to an end,
your disrespected ceramic friend.
In the chilly hours of the graying gloaming,
silent shivers rise from the estuary.
Just before the waves churn in frothy foaming,
Goddess Moon approaches Her adversary.
Sun slinks away at Her approaching homing,
slowly shedding His cloak as Luminary.
She reigns all through the darkened and leaden night
until stubborn Sun returns, anew and bright.
Refreshing Rain sits beside Withering Rose
inquiring if He might settle around Her.
She gladly accepts the offer He bestows,
a more precious blessing She could not prefer.
She felt the nourishment from petals to toes,
grateful to Him for His gift of life transfer.
Sometimes we need a little help from our friends
for gracious compassion and kindness it lends.
I am a metaphor for tears,
born from murky clouds,
pouring gracefully or rampantly,
in a choreography of liquid grace,
dancing to the sound of pitter patter,
upon rooftops and window panes~
but I am mercy,
flourishing your crops,
nurturing roots of blossoms,
softening hydrated lands.
Yet cursed by climate change,
I am blamed for human neglect.
Our
Hawaiian Sun
got burned
yesterday
and cried all
night ...
usually day after
our tradewinds turns and ...
they'd
betrayedwinds
and our baby then
shone me
the coconut tree
N U T S!
all gone
just dangling palms
looks like tourists palms
ahh, fiddlestcks
more unfinished castles
in the sand
crumbling ...
kind of defines McLean.
An isolated silhouette grows
amongst cowering greens as
an aimless impression yonder
trace mimicking lifeless postures.
Outlines vanish from the capture
as that raises a different outcome,
yet the instinctive mingling seems
to handily host its surroundings.
An uncomfortable challenge awaits
the undaunted souls whose remapping
and charting of the intriguing stranger
that disarms their unused weapons.
A laid-out weave of strong fibers and
the jungle gifts neatly covers it as a
large freshly killed Peccary lies in the
middle. Woosh! Snarls the elusive one!
an attenuated tree branch reaches out to its drowning shadow in the inert millpond
the lips of sunset
caress teal outcrop
damp with anticipation
ever speeding up
and illuminating every last aspect
however reluctantly
as it
has to relinquish
its grip on reality
and find
blessed relief
after the day’s toil
to rest
a final burst of colour
in horizontal rainbow
celestial cymbals herald
the climax of the
verismo
whilst the setting sun reflects on how it squandered dawn
I am a glass,
important in your life;
I hold selected drinks
to quench your thirst.
At your side-
in both good times and strife-
upon your list of needs,
I am the first.
But also,
I can be your measurement;
one day, a month,
a year or many years.
Interpretation of which
is oft bent
to whether
I hold joyous smiles or tears.
You see, I can be looked at
in two ways-
just one becomes the answer
to the test.
Half empty or half full-
I hold your days.
It's up to you to know
which choice is best.
February 21, 2023
Contest: Writing Challenge - G Words
Sponsor: Constance La France
Word Chosen: No. 9 - Glass
*Image of Tea & More by EverPic.
The Mettle of Mom's Kettle
Dear mother's tea kettle.
She purges impurities daily.
She satisfies it with freshness.
Encounters gained exponentially.
She alights the stagnant to awaken.
Temperate measures brew righteously.
Truly divine profoundness spirits a flavor.
She bears its consequence with confidence.
Gifting patient nothingness anticipated quench.
Honeyed sugary sweetness greets a reigning crown.
A Word of grace courtesies a solemn room full of smiles.
"...it continues..."
2022 December 31
*10th Place*
YOUR CHOICE
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2023 January 11
As the queen, she rules
and all bow to her presence
as she graces the night.
Her heavenly white blossom
pierces the imagination.
Her fragrance descends
and envelopes her subjects
as she graces the night.
She grasps the moment with bold
tendrils searching for purchase.
Delicate beauty
tantalizing, inviting
as she graces the night.
Alas, she must say farewell
too soon and withers away.
She leaves us breathy,
a captivated audience,
for she graced the night.
The remnants of her life, limp.
We are spellbound; we mourn her.