Personification Poems - Page 2

Northern Star
- By Kelly Graham
- Published by Family Friend Poems September 2016 with permission of the Author.
A few years ago I was on a self-destructive path, and the only gentleman in my life was my granddad, J.R.H. Graham. He was the best person you could meet. He was my granddad, my idol, my life. I heard a song called "Northern Star" by Hole, which gave me the idea to write this poem, because if you're lost you use the northern star to navigate to safety. And my granddad was that safe place.

Guiding Light Of A Loving Mentor

in Teacher Poems

Northern Star, Northern Star,
I gaze up at you from afar.
Shining brightly in the curtain of night,
Northern Star, you are my light.

Northern Star, Northern Star,
I gaze up at you from afar.
Shining brightly in the curtain of night,
Northern Star, you are my light.

Your beams of light fall on my face.
I wish to remain in this beautiful place.
Silenced by your beauty,
Northern Star, you flow through me.

You place me where I should be.
I'm grateful you made me feel free.
You've always been the rock in my wall.
Northern Star, don't ever let me fall.

Northern Star, you are so bright.
I look up at you every night.
You've always helped me deal with strife.
Northern Star, you are my life.

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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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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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I Am Just A Lonely Girl
- By Kristin Campbell
- Published by Family Friend Poems October 2013 with permission of the Author.
I wrote this poem because it is basically saying that I am still growing and I still try to keep everyone out of my life so that I come off as a mystery.

Poem Comparing Yourself To Objects

in Feelings Poems by Teens

I am just a lonely girl,
Trying to find her way,
I am a butterfly,
On a bright sunny day,

I am just a lonely girl,
Trying to find her way,
I am a butterfly,
On a bright sunny day,
I am a flower,
Trying to grow,
I am a mirror,
Of what others think they know,
I am a fish in a tank,
Trying to break free,
I am someone forgotten,
Can't anyone see the real me,
I am a box,
Closing out the rest of the world,
I am a chair,
Always being twirled,
I am just a lonely girl,
Trying to find her way.
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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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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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To Autumn
- By John Keats
Famous Poem

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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It's an awesome poem!! I really love it!!!

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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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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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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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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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Personification Poems - Page 2

I wrote this poem because it is basically saying that I am still growing and I still try to keep everyone out of my life so that I come off as a mystery.

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.

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.

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