Tree Personification Poems | Examples
These Tree Personification poems are examples of Personification poems about Tree. These are the best examples of Personification Tree poems written by international poets.
"I am the rose of Sharon and the lily of the valleys"
Bible, Song of Solomon 2:1
I call her Rose.
She came from Sharon,
A region in the land of Israel.
She's a Rose of Sharon tree.
You might have one of your own.
Anyway, Rose was a gift from a friend.
We planted her in our back yard and for
A couple of years, we watched her grow
And produce some beautiful blossoms.
Sadly we sold the property and moved away.
It's been more than four years now, and I am
Sure that Rose has spread her limbs and is
Now displaying some breath-taking roses.
We miss our Rose. The short While we spent
Together made us happy and proud. She was
An important part of our tree family We are
Happy for Rose's new family who must be
Enjoying her as much as we did.
Through many generations
Roots have forged strong bonds
that overlap each other deep in the earth
I am the oldest,
not untouched by the outside world
beauty and decay
Mixed with nostalgia and lush forest
children's play and laughter
When I look back
in slightly blurry images
No echo in the forest anymore
silence reigns
The city is growing faster than my family
the crystal ball cannot predict the future
once
ever green
then
autumn gold
bedecked
stark
now
in silhouette
aged
gnarled
root
laid bare
mistletoed
in winter
frieze
still
blankets
me
The ice storm came in January
And gave her the face of a weeper.
Weighed down, nearly to the ground,
We knew that her roots grew deeper.
However, she was completely covered with
Ice, and her trunk was split at ground level.
We questioned if she would even survive.
But she soon convinced us that she was here
To stay, even when ice stood in her way. She
Knew that God was on the inside, and she was
Ready to produce healthy fruit and thrive.
In short order, by late Feburary, she spoke
With the resounding voice of new spring life.
Her pink blossoms said, "Hello, I'm alive and well. Peaches will be arriving by mid-July".
I once swung from a tree on a noose,
but I was picked, and I rolled loose.
Yet it's times just like these,
when they put on the squeeze,
that I become fresh orange juice.
my soldier of an oak tree must think we have magic powers
he used to guard cousins park where our grandchildren played
they spent lots of time there in the summer laughing and chatting
now he guards the same territory, but the occupants are dogs.
they are as happy and sassy as the grandchildren, but they have tails
and a swimming pool, where they like to splash and jump.
oak tree probably wonders if we are going to wave a wand and change him.
Will they change me into a lilac tree or a day lily?
He gives me suspicious looks now.
the ferns admire the oak
our tall handsome guardian of the forest
he gathers verdant mossy mushrooms
If I were a container
I would not be a bag or a basket
I would want four corners and a bit of substance
I would be a gift box
placed under a Christmas tree
covered in foiled paper
with a gorgeous red bow
the prettiest box under here
If you’ll be stranded in a place with only me around
I’ll bring you in my arms safely, comfortably and sound,
I’ll feed you young white spongy-like sprouts and fruits
Provide your clothes from my trunk’s skin, flowers and leaves,
honing your creativity in a flying trapeze of joy or parachutes!
I’ll heal your ailments, I’ve good featured medicines
I’ll give everything I have, treating you my king or queen,
You’ll build your exquisite house and complete furniture
with enough utensils, decors, working and cleaning tools.
You’ll be a great survivor in my embrace ‘til the future!
The cascading contours of the verdant mountain slope
hold me, an upstanding cone of coniferous jade spruce
with waxy leaves that I turn into needles on the boughs.
When young I stand erect in the shade of the taller trees,
but soon I go up fast to outgrow them under the sun.
Cinnabar glaze I get from the crimson gleam of twilight,
my senses shiver in the winter chill freezing the needles.
The sparkle of joy shines on me in the cheerful night,
when I go for the festival of merriment to a happy home
as a Christmas tree decorated with the sapphire stars.
I began life as a humble seed over four hundred years ago,
now I'm three hundred feet high and I continue to grow.
I live in the north of California not far from the coast
and I'm the tallest tree on earth; that's no idle boast.
I have a native American Cherokee name; I'm a Sequoia tree.
But folks know me as a Redwood, and that's fine with me.
I consider myself very lucky because I am still alive,
many of my friends have perished in wildfires and didn't survive
So, if you're driving up the coastal highway you can't fail to see,
me and my Sequoia friends and family towering majestically.
See me here by the bank of the river.
I am a tall and leafy green willow.
In the heat of summer, I deliver
welcoming shade that spreads out below
the graceful drape of my canopy’s flow.
As softly as silent tears my limbs cascade,
quivering in summer’s slightest breeze.
Lithely I sway while offering my shade.
Souls weary and sweltering I put at ease.
Come rest beneath my beauty if you please.
I stand tall and green, shading, like an umbrella,
Towering over the gray shingle roofs of my neighborhood.
And evergreen I am called; I stay green all year round.
My leaves never turn golden and russet colors
That float down and gather among the emerald-green grass.
Only my fallen acorns that lie scattered are gathered
By the squirrels that scurry around.
My leaves dance when the exhalation breath waltzes around
And tickles my fancy. At night, the mockingbirds perch
Among my limbs and serenade me to sleep.
I am a sapling, a young tree
sun and rain both nurture me
As I grow, my trunk gets strong
my branches spread, wide and long
Twigs and leaves will soon appear
oxygen enters the atmosphere…
Come Autumn, my leaves float down
brightening lawns and barren ground
My roots probe deep into the earth
nutrients absorbed for Spring’s rebirth
Tassels of beads light my garment
as tropical air fondles my skin
content in the ripened grace
of my arms and round, orange fruitage,
shading men from rainfall and sun.
I nestle on the ground, hair basking
in May's glint...my guava pulp exploding
from Asian roots born of clay, and I,
in copper- like pose, become maiden
of woods, ever- rich... and evergreen.