Personification Poems

Published: July 2017

Below are Examples of poems that showcase the literary device of personification, but first let's talk about Personification:

What Is Personification?

Personification is when you give human attributes (characteristics) to the object that is being personified. The objects are not human, and in many cases, they're not even living things.

Why Use Personification in Poetry?

Personification can be used to emphasize a point in your writing.
It can also be used to make a reader understand something you're trying to say.
Personification is a way to add more description to your poem by giving human characteristics to inanimate objects.

Examples of Personification in Poetry:

The breeze kissed my cheek.
When I got home from school my dog smiled at me.
The blanket wrapped its arms around me.
Rays of sunshine danced through the trees.
The chainsaw hummed a tune.

Poem Personification Template - Try It Yourself

This poem is a great representation of personification because it makes winter seem human.

Winter by Olivia Kooker

If winter were a person, she would be a girl with frosty hair.
Winter would wear snow pants, snow boots, gloves, a hat, and scarf.
Winter would smell like hot chocolate and peanut butter and Hershey Kiss cookies baking in the oven.
Winter would spend the day eating cookies and drinking hot cocoa by a lake.
Winter would spend the night by sitting in the snow waiting for morning so children could come out to play.

Download: Personification Poem Template (PDF)

Try writing your own personification poem by thinking of a season and describing it as though it's a person by using characteristics of the season to describe what it would wear, smell like, and spend time doing.

31 Examples Of Poems With Personification

I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud
- By William Wordsworth
Famous Poem

"I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud" is a lyric poem that expresses deep feelings about the beauty of nature. William Wordsworth was a well-known poet of the Romantic era, which began at the beginning of the 1800s. The focus during the Romantic era was on people's feelings and their connectedness to nature. That was a drastic shift from the emphasis on science and reason of the Enlightenment era, which came before. "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud" is one of Wordsworth's most famous poems. It was inspired by a journal entry his sister wrote recounting when the two of them went for a walk along the bay and saw a large number of daffodils.

in Famous Nature Poems

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
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Honestly! How lovely is this poem when read aloud. I can see the yellow heads of the daffodils doing their sprightly dance! And, when in the meditative state, I can feel them in my heart...

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Who Am I?
- By Carl Sandburg
Famous Poem

Carl Sandburg (1878-1967) writes this poem in the form of a free verse riddle. It follows no specific structure or rhyme scheme. When we find out the answer to the riddle, we see that this poem uses personification to describe it. Carl Sandburg’s interest in President Abraham Lincoln (“Honest Abe”) led him to write two multi-volume biographies. These biographies brought Sandburg the honor of the 1939 Pulitzer Prize in History.

in Famous Poems

My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I reach my hands and play with pebbles of destiny.

My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I reach my hands and play with pebbles of destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs reading "Keep Off."

My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive in the universe.
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The Brook
- By Alfred Tennyson
Famous Poem

The Industrial Revolution took place in Great Britain during the late 1700s and early 1800s. As cities grew, living conditions deteriorated for the poor and working class. Factories and mass production were beneficial for some but not everyone. This poem stands in contrast of new manufacturing processes of that time period by focusing on nature. The narrator in this poem, the brook, is personified. The brook shows persistence by continuing to flow, no matter what obstacles get in its way. The repeated lines, “For men may come and men may go, but I go on for ever,” showcase that. Famous poet Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) was named Poet Laureate in Great Britain and Ireland.

in Famous Nature Poems

I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.

I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.

By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorpes, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.

Till last by Philip's farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.

With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.

I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,

And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel,

And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
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I was read poetry to my mother born 1929 in faraway Colombo, Sri Lanka. She loved this poem, and I remember her animated voice bringing the words hidden in the babbling brook to life and the...

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Snow-Flakes
- By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Famous Poem

Snow-Flakes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is a beautiful description of the way snow falls from the sky and covers the landscape. The snowflakes are described as silent, soft, and slow, creating a sense of stillness and peace. The comparison between the way snowflakes take shape in the air and the way our thoughts take shape in our minds suggests a connection between the natural world and our inner world. The final stanza suggests that there is something deeply meaningful about the snowflakes and the way they reveal the secret of despair.

in Famous Nature Poems

Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,

Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.

Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.

This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.
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Mirror
- By Sylvia Plath
Famous Poem

Sylvia Plath was an American author and poet who lived from 1932-1963. She was a driven person, and she graduated summa cum laude from Smith College in 1955. Despite her success, Plath struggled with depression, and committed suicide in 1963. This poem shows the struggle a woman has with her identity as she grows older and begins to lose her youthfulness. It also uses personification by giving human characteristics to the mirror.

in Famous Sad Poems

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful,

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful,
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
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A mirror never lies. It shows what is what exactly. Just as Plath writes: "I am silver and exact". The truth of our mortality is what we keep on negating and the speaker too finds it hard to...

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Because I Could Not Stop For Death
- By Emily Dickinson
Famous Poem

A poem about death. Dickinson portrays death as her companion in the carriage. She passes her childhood - the school, to her grave. The poem makes heavy use of the literary device of personification, giving death human characteristics.

in Famous Death Poems

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.
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Yeah, I agree we don't stop to think that death will come and take us away even when the ones he has taken are staring right at us. My grandma passed away when I was little. I sobbed for hours.

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The Room Of My Life
- By Anne Sexton
Famous Poem

Anne Sexton is a famous poet known for writing about challenging topics, often expressing despair in her work. In the poem "Room of Life," she reveals the troubled life she led through vivid imagery, including objects that seem to take on a life of their own. Sexton sees each object in her room as a reflection of her own life, including the books, the typewriter, the phone, and even the windows. She feeds both the world outside and her own inner world, but she struggles to find meaning in her existence.

in Famous Sad Poems

Here,
in the room of my life
the objects keep changing.
Ashtrays to cry into,

Here,
in the room of my life
the objects keep changing.
Ashtrays to cry into,
the suffering brother of the wood walls,
the forty-eight keys of the typewriter
each an eyeball that is never shut,
the books, each a contestant in a beauty contest,
the black chair, a dog coffin made of Naugahyde,
the sockets on the wall
waiting like a cave of bees,
the gold rug
a conversation of heels and toes,
the fireplace
a knife waiting for someone to pick it up,
the sofa, exhausted with the exertion of a whore,
the phone
two flowers taking root in its crotch,
the doors
opening and closing like sea clams,
the lights
poking at me,
lighting up both the soil and the laugh.
The windows,
the starving windows
that drive the trees like nails into my heart.
Each day I feed the world out there
although birds explode
right and left.
I feed the world in here too,
offering the desk puppy biscuits.
However, nothing is just what it seems to be.
My objects dream and wear new costumes,
compelled to, it seems, by all the words in my hands
and the sea that bangs in my throat.
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A Farewell
- By Alfred Tennyson
Famous Poem

Alfred Tennyson (1809 - 1892) was Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom. In this beautiful poem, Alfred Lord Tennyson compares the short life span of Man to the seemingly eternal lifespan of nature. He expresses a longing to live on for eternity. However, nature lives on forever, while humans live for but a short time. The rivulet moves on to becomes a river and then it merges in to the sea where it stays for eternity. Interestingly, a great poet's work lives on even after their death.

in Famous Death Poems

Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
Thy tribute wave deliver:
No more by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.

Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
Thy tribute wave deliver:
No more by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.

Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,
A rivulet then a river:
Nowhere by thee my steps shall be
For ever and for ever.

But here will sigh thine alder tree
And here thine aspen shiver;
And here by thee will hum the bee,
For ever and for ever.

A thousand suns will stream on thee,
A thousand moons will quiver;
But not by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.
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To Autumn
- By John Keats
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John Keats was a British Romantic Poem who only lived 25 short years, from 1795-1821. "To Autumn" is the final work in a group of poems that is referred to as Keats' 1819 Odes. He was inspired to write this poem after going on a walk on an autumn evening near Winchester. He wrote it on September 19, 1819, and it was published in 1820, a little more than a year before he succumbed to tuberculosis. The poem shows the progression through the autumn season, from fruitfulness, to labor, and ultimately to its decline. It also has a strong sense of imagery and uses personification.

in Famous Nature Poems

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of spring? Ay, Where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,--
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
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Fog
- By Carl Sandburg
Famous Poem

“Fog” was part of Carl Sandburg’s first poetry collection, Chicago Poems, published in 1916. Sandburg wrote simply and was known to use the “language of the people.” This poem was no different. He used simple imagery, personification and a metaphor to compare fog to the movement of a cat. Sandburg was inspired to write this poem when he saw the fog roll in to the Chicago harbor.

in Famous Nature Poems

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

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My dear neighbor, Nellie, who is in her 80s, asked me, as I am an artist, to paint a picture for her to give to her husband for Christmas. She said he loves the poem "Here Comes the Fog" by...

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A Blade Of Grass
- By Ruby Archer
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This poem employs personification to imbue a blade of grass with human-like qualities. The grass becomes a symbol of empathy and compassion. The poet contrasts the seemingly emotionless stream with the grass's ability to feel and respond to the water's implied sorrow. The poem explores the idea of empathetic projection, as the grass takes on the emotional burden of the stream.

in Famous Poems

A blade of grass is bending
Above the moaning stream,
In sympathy is blending
Where troubles only seem.

A blade of grass is bending
Above the moaning stream,
In sympathy is blending
Where troubles only seem.

The waters have no sorrow,
Real anguish ne'er can know;
And yet the grass will borrow
And bear the waters' woe.

It quivers with compassion
And quakes with foreign fears,
Then yields to loving passion,
And weeps the torrent's tears.
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Dandelion
- By Nellie M. Garabrant
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Nellie M. Garabrant's "Dandelion" is a charmingly whimsical poem that personifies a dandelion throughout its life cycle. It begins with a playful description of the dandelion as a "dandy little fellow" in his golden prime, frolicking through the meadow. However, the poem takes a poignant turn as the dandelion ages, losing its vibrancy and becoming a "poor little baldhead dandy." The poem effectively captures the beauty and transience of life through the lens of a simple flower.

in Famous Children Poems

There's a dandy little fellow,
Who dresses all in yellow,
In yellow with an overcoat of green;
With his hair all crisp and curly,

There's a dandy little fellow,
Who dresses all in yellow,
In yellow with an overcoat of green;
With his hair all crisp and curly,
In the springtime bright and early
A-tripping o'er the meadow he is seen.
Through all the bright June weather,
Like a jolly little tramp,
He wanders o'er the hillside, down the road;
Around his yellow feather,
Thy gypsy fireflies camp;
His companions are the wood lark and the toad.

But at last this little fellow
Doffs his dainty coat of yellow,
And very feebly totters o'er the green;
For he very old is growing
And with hair all white and flowing,
A-nodding in the sunlight he is seen.
Oh, poor dandy, once so spandy,
Golden dancer on the lea!
Older growing, white hair flowing,
Poor little baldhead dandy now is he!
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Destined To Fly
- By Ashley N. Hyder
- Published by Family Friend Poems April 2015 with permission of the Author.
This poem was written after I got clean from a 4-year heroin addiction. I based it off a letter addressed Dear Heroin that I wrote while incarcerated at 20-years-old for a drug offense. When I stumbled across the letter shortly after getting sober, it brought back so many negative and painful memories. However, it also made me feel so proud for the things I have accomplished and overcome...things that at one point seemed impossible. Recovery is possible, and it's up to you to grow your wings.

Poem About Overcoming Addiction

in Change Poems

I remember the day we met.
Too young to see the danger.
I didn't know the devil you were,
That you'd fill me with so much anger.

I remember the day we met.
Too young to see the danger.
I didn't know the devil you were,
That you'd fill me with so much anger.

At first you gave me comfort,
Numbed me from the pain,
But the light you gave me faded,
Brought blackness to my veins.

Your trap worked as always.
I am not the only one to fall.
So many friends forever gone now;
No one's left to call.

Dragged me to rock bottom,
Each day a life in hell anew,
Felt there was no possibility
Of breaking this dependence on you.

Every day I woke
With only you on my mind,
Desperate for your love,
More desperate for you to die.

Through time I saw you were evil.
I watched you steal my soul.
Each time I tried to get away,
You would not let me go.

Tried to scream and cry,
Eventually accepted my fate.
Everyone had tried to warn me,
And now it was too late.

Family and friends could never understand,
Couldn't hear my silent plea.
They did not want to see
The sick effect you had on me.

You locked me in a cell.
You made me freeze at night,
Made me deceive those I loved,
Made me live in constant fright.

Left broken, battered, and bruised,
My number of scars grew.
Both physical and mental,
While the number of wasted years flew.

Went through the motions like a zombie.
No longer did I see
Any type of future
In this world for me.

You erased any shred of hope
When everyone turned their backs.
Difficult to escape this dark hole and cope,
Impossible to defend against your attacks.

I knew no church, no God.
YOU, my ultimate power.
No way to know real love.
I was now a rotted, dead flower.

Then one day it happened.
Most amazing hope one moment brings,
And I decided then and there
That I would grow my wings.

No longer will you take from me
Like you have stolen all these years.
You will never take my life.
No longer will I cry these tears.

I will deal with the pain.
I will swallow all my pride.
I will deal with my life of rubble.
I'm prepared for this difficult ride.

If it kills me to leave you,
Then I will gladly die,
Because with you I'm only surviving,
And I have been destined to fly.

I will soar, laugh, and smile,
Will breathe my life once more.
I will go back to a time
Before you came knocking at my door.
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I'm rather inspired to witness a "rotted, dead flower" regaining his or her smile and faith in life. Drugs are illegal here in China, and we all know the anguish caused by drug addiction and...

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Sing To Me, Autumn
- By Patricia L. Cisco
- Published by Family Friend Poems September 2016 with permission of the Author.
Since I was a child, I've loved the season of autumn. I love its return each year with its vibrant magical colors, warm bright days, the change from the heat of summer into cool but crystal clear sparkling nights, and the aroma of the woods and spice in the atmosphere. It's like a familiar loved one or friend who's back for a visit. It's the same season each year, but it's always new and refreshing. We share our lives with the seasons. As we mature, we understand ourselves and all the world more intimately.

Autumn Personification Poem

in Fall Poems

Sing to me, Autumn, with the rustle of your leaves.
Breathe on me your spicy scents that flow within your breeze.

Dance with me, Autumn, your waltz that bends the boughs of trees.

Sing to me, Autumn, with the rustle of your leaves.
Breathe on me your spicy scents that flow within your breeze.

Dance with me, Autumn, your waltz that bends the boughs of trees.
Now tell me all the secrets you've whispered to the seas.

Sleep with me, Autumn, beneath your starlit skies.
Let your yellow harvest moon shimmer in our eyes.

Kiss me, Autumn, with your enchanting spellbound ways
That changes all you touch into crimson golden days.

Love me, Autumn, and behold this love so true
That I'll be waiting faithfully each year to be with you.
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This poem beautifully provides us an opportunity to feel connected with nature. As human beings, we have been born in the lap of nature, have grown under the protection of nature, but we’ve...

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The Life Of A Leaf
- By Paul Holmes
- Published by Family Friend Poems February 12, 2023 with permission of the Author.
Leaves are everywhere. We see them everyday. People are the same. Notice the parallel...

in Beauty of Nature Poems

SPRING

I slowly unfurl to the wide World
Stretching up to the blue sky

SPRING

I slowly unfurl to the wide World
Stretching up to the blue sky
And sense an early morning chill
Of Spring waking a natural high.
Each day grows a little warmer
As the daylight hours extend
Making this leaf feel fresher,
To the bright sunlight I bend.

SUMMER

I’m at my most greenest now,
Hot sun burns upon my veins;
How glad am I to finally enjoy
Those cooling, copious rains.
At which point, I pour in drips,
A refreshing, rousing trickle
Falling on grass and buttercup,
Teasing them with a tickle.

AUTUMN

Mists have now arrived,
Shrouding my form with heavy dew;
The green has all but leached away,
Bled from veins no longer new.
Down below the tree are vivid reds
Browns and translucent golds
Which, increasingly each day now
People their captivation holds.

WINTER

The first frost of Winter
And a biting, northerly breeze
Cut into me, and scores of others
Were torn from their trees.
I’ve fallen now, to the ground
All wrinkled, and utterly fragile
Awaiting my final hour
Until, I meet my funeral pile…

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A Miracle To Behold
- By Patricia A Fleming
- Published by Family Friend Poems April 2019 with permission of the Author.
I wrote this one day while I was visiting the ocean.

The Beauty Of The Ocean

in Ocean Poems

Seagulls soar above her surf,
The sun reflects and gleams,
While people come from miles around
To stroll upon her beach.

Seagulls soar above her surf,
The sun reflects and gleams,
While people come from miles around
To stroll upon her beach.

Her touch conveys an icy chill
Through her stinging, foamy spray,
While her thunderous waves rush to the shore,
Then gently roll away.

Her blue horizon meets the sky,
The end cannot be seen
While her salty fragrance fills the air
And floats upon the breeze.

She safely cradles in her arms
The boats that bounce upon her tides
And plays coy with all the surfers
Who beckon for another ride.

She can distract us from our worries.
She can lure and hypnotize.
With the rhythm of her movement
And her beauty in our eyes.

She's a force that can't be reckoned with,
A power to revere.
She's a lovely, sweet seductress
Who we long to settle near.

There are no words that truly tell
The splendor of her face
Or recreate that feeling,
Of such a warm and peaceful place.

The ocean is a lovely gift.
She's God's great Masterpiece.
A miracle we can behold
That gives us reason to believe.
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Dear Elizabeth, Growing up in New Jersey, I have always had easy access to the ocean. I love the ocean but, I have always been interested in the beauty of the PACNW. I love to look at films...

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The Summer's End
- By Patricia A Fleming
- Published by Family Friend Poems August 2018 with permission of the Author.
The poem tries to describe the changes that occur as summer comes to an end and how I respond to it emotionally.

in Summer Poems

The familiar rhythm of the cricket's chirps
Create the soundtrack for each day,
Echoing Summer's end
And that Autumn's on her way.

The familiar rhythm of the cricket's chirps
Create the soundtrack for each day,
Echoing Summer's end
And that Autumn's on her way.

The stifling heat of the summer sun
Is now tempered by the clouds.
Those fluffy, cotton August clouds,
That soft breezes push about.

Shadows falling everywhere
As the sun plays peek-a-boo.
Losing her strength with each new day,
A sure sign that Summer is through.

As the lazy, care-free summer days,
Reluctantly draw to an end.
Excitement grows for what's ahead,
As school days and the Fall begin.

And no matter how the years may pass,
And how old I come to be,
I'll always love this time of year,
As it holds such fond memories

Of sitting with my childhood friends,
Recalling all our fun
While running, swimming and riding bikes
Beneath the summer sun.

And sharing all our hopes and dreams
As the future stirs us on.
Knowing as we sit on that late, August eve,
Summer's ending, but her memory lives on.

But there's also a haunting sadness sometimes
That I feel when those dark shadows fall.
And that my greatest adventures in life
Are just memories, now aroused by those sweet cricket calls.
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End of summer, yes, when my daughter goes outside and comes back in to ask, "How does the weather know it's back to school time?" when the chill in the morning air precedes the special crisp...

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Winter
- By Olivia Kooker
- Published by Family Friend Poems August 2011 with permission of the Author.
My name is Olivia Kooker. I am 10 years old and in 4th grade. I live in Pennsylvania. An interesting thing people should know about me is that I am adopted. I have a great life. I wrote this poem for my Mom for Christmas.

Eating Cookies And Drinking Hot Chocolate

in Nature Poems for Kids

If winter were a person, she would be a girl with frosty hair.
Winter would wear snow pants, snow boots, gloves, a hat, and scarf.
Winter would smell like hot chocolate and peanut butter and Hershey Kiss cookies baking in the oven.
Winter would spend the day eating cookies and drinking hot cocoa by a lake.

If winter were a person, she would be a girl with frosty hair.
Winter would wear snow pants, snow boots, gloves, a hat, and scarf.
Winter would smell like hot chocolate and peanut butter and Hershey Kiss cookies baking in the oven.
Winter would spend the day eating cookies and drinking hot cocoa by a lake.
Winter would spend the night by sitting in the snow waiting for morning so children could come out to play.
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A beautiful, inspirational poem Olivia, most impressive for someone only ten years old. Loved it!!!

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My Wooded World
- By Sheila Visingardi
- Published by Family Friend Poems July 2006 with permission of the Author.
There's time for space and contemplation in the wooded world.
The poem makes use of personification to make the woods seem alive. The branches, wind and animals are given human characteristics like walking, singing, talking.
In loving memory of John H. Burns Sr. -my father

Poem About Escaping To The Woods

in Beauty of Nature Poems

Analysis of Form and Technique

As a child, I would sit and ponder
at the wooded areas, for their beauty relaxed me.
The sway of the branches and whistling of the winds,
as if they were calling my name.

As a child, I would sit and ponder
at the wooded areas, for their beauty relaxed me.
The sway of the branches and whistling of the winds,
as if they were calling my name.

Then as I grew older, they were my retreat,
for the woods became my own world,
a world full of imagination, creativity,
resourcefulness, as well as inspiration.

I loved my domain, for no problems were too great.
The woods protected me from everything.
The branches would open as to hold me.
The animals, in their busy ways, stopped to welcome me.

It was this place, my wooded world, that I lived for.
It is that place that beckons me now.
For it was only there, in them woods, I felt truly free,
as free as I would feel when your love would surround me.
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I spend every waking moment that I can outside, walking with my dog in nature! We are fortunate to live surrounded by many trees. They make me feel safe and protected, and this poem shows me...

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Hurricane Isabella
- By Amy Aird
- Published by Family Friend Poems March 2013 with permission of the Author.
I was in the Air Force at the time, stationed at Langley AF Base. A large group of us were sent to Blacksmith, VA, an Army base, to stay clear of the impending hurricane. I am originally from the mid-west and have never been in that kind of weather, so I was a nervous wreck the whole time. During the storm that night, while others slept or watched movies on portable DVD players, I was so scared and the only thing that brought me comfort was to write about it. It took me 1 week to finish it.

in Earth Poems

Analysis of Form and Technique

I can't sleep tonight, I can still hear her name.
She came with warning but could not be tamed.
We packed our things and stored them tight,
And headed for shelter anticipating this night.

I can't sleep tonight, I can still hear her name.
She came with warning but could not be tamed.
We packed our things and stored them tight,
And headed for shelter anticipating this night.
"You will be out of harm's way," the Colonel told us. "Free from the fight."

But she followed us and now we are in her way.
All night she screams, "My name is Isabella and I've come to play!"
Her winds rattle the windows and shake our nerves.
The rain seeps through the cracks of the barracks we serve.
She keeps herself busy and at a steady pace.
Sounds like a freight train winning the race.

All through the night and into the early morning,
She kicked up her heals, laughing and roaring!
When the daylight came and the blue skies were calm,
We could only imagine the damage she had done.
It was far worse than what we had thought.

Age old trees that once reached to the sky,
Scattered the ground like tombstones, no longer alive.
Uprooted, twisted and mangled,
They crashed through houses and left power lines tangled.

Piles of debris littered the streets,
Trapping the flood waters up to our knees.
It covered the ground throughout this town.
Bits of valuables were later found.

But valuables can be replaced and homes can be repaired.
No one was hurt that day in the shelter we shared.
It could have been worse; we were luckier than some.
Some lost loved ones in the destruction she had done.

We go about our lives now, picking up the pieces,
Trying to make sense of the madness and all that it seizes.
Most are without power, their food supply goes sour,
As the day turns to blackness with each passing hour.

But throughout all the chaos brought strangers together.
Despite their own frustration came a need to take care of each other.
By helping one another with necessities we lack,
We see in each other one purpose, one path.
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Personification Poems

What Is Personification?

Why Use Personification in Poetry?

Examples of Personification in Poetry:

Poem Personification Template - Try It Yourself

31 Examples Of Poems With Personification

A poem about death. Dickinson portrays death as her companion in the carriage. She passes her childhood - the school, to her grave. The poem makes heavy use of the literary device of personification, giving death human characteristics.

Leaves are everywhere. We see them everyday. People are the same. Notice the parallel...

I wrote this one day while I was visiting the ocean.

The poem tries to describe the changes that occur as summer comes to an end and how I respond to it emotionally.

My name is Olivia Kooker. I am 10 years old and in 4th grade. I live in Pennsylvania. An interesting thing people should know about me is that I am adopted. I have a great life. I wrote this poem for my Mom for Christmas.

There's time for space and contemplation in the wooded world. The poem makes use of personification to make the woods seem alive. The branches, wind and animals are given human characteristics like walking, singing, talking. In loving memory of John H. Burns Sr. -my father

There's time for space and contemplation in the wooded world.
The poem makes use of personification to make the woods seem alive. The branches, wind and animals are given human characteristics like walking, singing, talking.
In loving memory of John H. Burns Sr. -my father