Seasons Personification Poems | Examples
These Seasons Personification poems are examples of Personification poems about Seasons. These are the best examples of Personification Seasons poems written by international poets.
COMINGS AND GOINGS IN
THE DAYS OF OUR LIVES
In all life’s seasons,
Each day has its three
To be: yesterday, today,
And its tomorrow:-
Today was yesterday’s
Tomorrow, and will become
Tomorrow’s yesterday,
Which will become a today:-
No matter the day or
The season, give God the praise
For today, which was yesterday’s
Prayed for tomorrow:-
Thus, be the blessed days
That are bestowed upon us
In travelling and overcoming
Life’s trials and tribulations:-
Sublime summer is arriving,
The darling daisies are gossiping
Laying on the sill of the silly window,
The sun is complimenting them excessively,
The blush is lustrous and lurking.
Summer is shimmering on its way,
Spring is packing her suitcase,
Ready to leave,
She doesn't get along with her sister,
Summer's soar sight
Can make Spring blind.
Spring loves her eyes
So she's absolutely ready for goodbyes,
I should not hold her,
I'd write a goodbye letter
Hoping that she'd feel better,
Sisterhood is a vital matter,
Spring and summer can never unite
Even though they are two sisters so polite—
Spring is too floral,
Summer is too bright.
And when they get together
All they do is fight.
And that's not at all right.
So goodbye spring,
Come back next year,
Go your merry way,
Let go of summer's fear.
I'll be waiting from you to hear,
Goodbye now,
Summer is almost near.
Entry for your choice M poetry Contest
Brian Strand
*Inspired by photo
This tree stands alone with another nearby
Nature's friend, who is not shy
Standing high in the mountains, to be seen
I am consumed by freedom, so serene
I am high, reaching for the blue sky
Looking down on the road, of passers by
I am a tree healing, growing, my leaves arrive soon
From productivity, creativity, night or at noon
I'm ready to face the seasons, all things now
I'm here on this mountain, waiting to meet you
Heidi Sands
4/2/25
(C)opyright
Placed 10th
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.
For you, the winter has departed
For me, the spring has started,
Seasons began where nature parted.
Going from north to south
on its axis through the earth
around the sun, the seasons give birth.
There are no wasted nights
nor annulment of days,
with rainy clouds and sunny rays.
Every journey has a portrait.
Every spare moment in the fate
the mood keeps the spirit awake.
When the sun comes shining
All the flowers begin blooming
Their beauty and radiance illuminating
A day moves into a new horizon
The possessive night lingers on
Into memorial direction.
Every step is a valuable lesson
To capture the paths of each person
which leads to the same destination.
Where life's challenges begin
With whispering voices in the wind
receptive illusions and dark living.
The path known could be everything
when you recall, it could be nothing
only the memory of silence serenading
When iridescent light collided with dark matter you were conceived. (Again)
In places of decadence beyond my perception, we interweave.(Event)
Saturated with strands of fiber from the great traits handed on
from the souls that speak without words aloud, but are glean, nundating and heard.
The transition we vaguely recall in our dreams as bairn sprits.
That reminds that we are small, that we travel forever in time.
Heading towards wisdom gained and amassed in collection, ( destination)
we stay a course towards becoming more than we can dream.
As we try to recall each time it occurred, it fades away like seasons.
Yet, I feel the grains filling the trug of my heart and mind.
Once the star is born, fusion becomes life, becomes red, becomes white, then becomes darkness.
The circle continues and begins again with a conscience remembering of all that is gained, all that is lost, and all that we'll become. (Sparks)
There’s fire in those eyes
Flames flicker from finger tips
Her voice is forged from thunder
She has such shapely hips
She’s not quick to anger
Still you do not want her scorn
Her’s is the soul of a warrior
Heaven sent not mortal born
She is the thing of legends
Impossible to understand
With subtle smile upon her lips
The sky she does command
You may call her nature
A mother to us all
Winter spring and summer
multicoloured in the fall.
Stare upon her beauty
Suckle at her breast
God’s offering from the heavens
Is she a curse or are we blessed?
O Monami! Fiancé these days!
They forgot to pick wrought iron
In their unsung Mays!
In seasons, they sprinkled
In salts they tried,
In their secret recipes
Even my Clover died!
PS. It is still poetry!
One fine day when sun met rain
There was thrill on every grain
Heaven damped the ground with kiss
Earth rejoiced in soulful bliss
The smile of the shining sun
Filled the world with joy and fun
Sun and rain with their glow and chill
Gave the blissful spring a thrill
Wind, rain, sun poetry contest
4th place
My leaves never droop and my flowers stand high
I bloom through the year as the seasons pass by
I witness the daffodils stand proud and tall
I see warmer weather put paid to them all
The alliums follow, the marigolds too
Then plants that will flower the whole summer through
Impressive by some standards, you might agree
But none of these plants hold a candle to me
The roses come close as they bloom into fall
And still here I stand as I scrutinise all
I watch as the wind brings down apples and pears
I won’t drop my leaves but I see them drop theirs
For I was put here by a man with a spade
Because it gets hot and there isn’t much shade
And all year I brighten this spot where I’m placed
I’m plastic - and there’s no accounting for taste
Fishing Holiday
A kingfisher sitting on the old harbour wall
Listening to the geese from the mud flats call
I'm here for some sea fishing until after the thaw
Braced against the north wind so cold and raw
No Kamikaze diving into a frozen pond
The quickest route through to a life beyond
I need to cut a hole to fish with rod and line
To catch minnows like an Eskimo for my tea time
A sound of crunching from the lake what can it be
I fly over the marsh to take a look and see
Two swans are on the salt lagoon a winter wonderland
I watch from the sluice gate where the water is damned
The leaders pushing through the thick sea ice
Slowly inching forward, heroic self-sacrifice
Jet propulsion is required, web feet redesigned
Whilst tail end Charlie swims serenely behind
The Buntings skating through the reeds ask me to stay
But I've frost bitten feathers and don't want to play
The brochure promised beaches and sunshine every day
I am flying further south for my next Seaside holiday
Keyhaven Marshes, 17th January 2023
I used to be a home, but now
I'm just a house left all alone.
One time, I had a beating heart;
alive, with caring love, it shone.
Abandoned, now I barely stand
from long neglect and clime abuse;
weak with a sunken roof and porch-
no purpose now, no needed use.
And so, I'm left without a heart-
a semblance of what used to be.
A house can only be a home
when filled with love and harmony.
My shattered windows now just stare,
as seasons come and go each year,
recalling happy days of old-
when I was once a home, held dear.
Intercom: the visuals are incredible!
The spray of candy corn fireworks
and the snowflake stars. Land ho…
…and out come the celebrants. They
Stick their tongue to the flakes. Catch.
the honey Brach’s with their teeth.
Leaves layered everywhere. Seasons
on display. Children’s flower windmills
wheeling. Sun’s mellow-yellow-smile.
Oaks, maples and pines holding hands,
branches clapping, looking up, gifting
edible acorns and prickly pine cones.
The skies grow heavy with foreboding
as the great and small pumpkins roll in.
Hideous laughter, sinister carvings
on their orange ribbed faces. Seed webs
dangle from their toothy grins. The wind
says, “Boo!” and off go the craven beasts.
Oft the celebrants feel sorry for them,
having most of their insides scooped
and made into the most delicious pie.
They end up taking one in per house.
Each pumpkin shines bright, contained
on breezy porch, scared of the next boo.
Tsunami I am called, myself an anomaly of creation.
When seismic waves pass quaking the earth,
And tectonic plates move from the depths of the ocean,
I am born out of chaos and everyone curses my birth.
I come whirling, swirling, churning, and sweeping,
And strike man and beast without rhyme or reason.
Frothing with fury, I am deadlier than a Tornado.
Both of us like twins in virulence appear in all seasons.
Like a mountain erupting suddenly from the depths,
I shoot upwards into the sky in torrential force.
As I dance my macabre dance, men flee helter- skelter
In panic and frustration, finding no other recourse.
Before they can get away too far from me,
I am out to swallow them raw and rude.
I obliterate everything in a sweep of blinding fury,
Crashing on and gulping down everything, so crude.
With the changing seasons,
I’m the deepest green, sometimes dry and brown
I ‘m tall and wave when the wind blows
Or sometimes short when I am freshly mown.
I’m like a green thick lush blanket
Sometimes used in sports fields
For golf, football or cricket, baseball and softball
I am very durable with contact play.
Warmed by nascent sun gentle rays
They walk on my uniform soft blades
With confidence, giving-way under their feet
Sometimes I’m damp and cool.
If, I’m brown and dry stubble
A crunch beneath their feet you will hear.
I reclaim the earth and thrive.
My shoots stand tall to reach the sky.
I so enjoy the brightness of the day
And cool air after fresh rain-shower.
I shelter earth and insects and what matters
And maybe a dandelion or two in the spring.
8/25/2023