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To a Soldier Personification David Castro

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To a Soldier Personification David Castro

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In the middle of an unlimited world, there is
a voice and one heart that will hold the must immensememories of our goodbye...
your sorrow and memories...and your heroism.
There will be a battle that proclaims a honest friendship and the efforts of those who have perished and have earned recognition defending our freedom.
A battle that evokes our soldiers' ambition of peace,
their honor and the power of their honorable patriotism.
There will be a time in our lives, that missing you may reflects and unveil of our loving memories to each and everyday, each and every moment and your forgiving
and sympathetic with a humble and positive spirit...
Preluding a better outcome " sweet victory of all."
your faithfulness to our country reveals your love ...
and our love is forever . It is "a farewell in our soul" wishing you
a blessing...forever more!

Thank you....Happy independence Day to all!

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Roller-coaster Love Metaphor David Castro

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Roller-coaster Love Metaphor David Castro

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As sadness reigns over me, dark clouds & rains over me; salt water fills my optical vision & incision in my heart & now I bleed, oh God why I plead, thats who I want thatswho I need, love flees, I thought love is free, Agape/Unconditional theres degrees, in time salty waters will receed, I will love again in you I believe, Gods soil is where I sow seeds, & they grow & produce trees, hurt and heal, love again or never wanna again feel, confusionabout how much of you my love was real, did I make it all up, what was the big blow up, the turn up was turneddown, laughter & happiness disrupt, why not discussinstead we fight/fuss and cuss and it hurts, I feel the absence of what could be my better half vanishing from my heart felt grasp, my future love becoming my past; how long will this vacancy last, connected to you so I try to hold on, It no longer matters who's right or wrong, harmony & melody is missing lyrics to a potential love song, another night & another day with out you I must mourn, my emotional state is torn, I think hold on or is it time to move on, wait patiently until dawn, unwrapped like a ball of yawn, tired and sleepy I yawn.

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I Shall Give
I shall give you my Love,
That’s like Music composed
Of what’s subtle and tough
And the best and the most,

Of the Melos and Tunes
And the Rhythms combined –
Under all dancing Moons
Making sensual Mind,

Under Suns that display
What must Passion reveal,
Under Stars to whom prays
Of the Eyes Milky Meal,

Under Galaxies’ Choir,
Constellations’ Ballet,
Those embodying Desire
In the Space open laid;

Over them be exalted
My Love sent to you:
Let in heavenly Vault
By the Music for Few

Now sound her Word –
Better spoken, her Breath –
May this Secret, her Cord,
Sing to you when you rest!..

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Rise Up Warrior
Your Battlefield is Ready
Hold your Head High
Your Feet Firm and Steady
Be Relentless in the Pursuit of whatever
You Seek
Let Your Actions convey Your Words
You don't need to speak
Let the Thorns remind You that your Soles
know how to Feel
Let the Injuries on Your Body remind You
that it will Heal.
Every Dark Cloud has a Silver Lining
Within You is the Entire Cosmos Bright and
ShiningRate this poem

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O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.

So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel awhile!

And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.

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The Garden

In the spring the garden wakes
From its long-lasting sleep;
In summer all the veggies come
With their colors so deep.
In fall the garden is
A great, leaf covered floor;
In winter like a bed on snow
That will awake no more.

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Stephen Sandoval-Personification                      

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Stephen Sandoval-Personification                      

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I wandered lonely as a cloud

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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This is not a small voice

This is not a small voice
you hear               this is a large
voice coming out of these cities.
This is the voice of LaTanya.
Kadesha. Shaniqua. This
is the voice of Antoine.
Darryl. Shaquille.
Running over waters
navigating the hallways
of our schools spilling out
on the corners of our cities and
no epitaphs spill out of their river mouths.

This is not a small love
you hear               this is a large
love, a passion for kissing learning
on its face.
This is a love that crowns the feet with hands
that nourishes, conceives, feels the water sails
mends the children,
folds them inside our history where they
toast more than the flesh
where they suck the bones of the alphabet
and spit out closed vowels.
This is a love colored with iron and lace.
This is a love initialed Black Genius.

This is not a small voice
you hear.

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Silence

Silence with you is like the faint delicious
Smile of a child asleep, in dreams unguessed:
Only the hinted wonder of its dreaming,
The soft, slow-breathing miracle of rest.
Silence with you is like a kind departure
From iron clangor and the engulfing crowd
Into a wide and greenly barren meadow,
Under the bloom of some blue-bosomed cloud;
Or like one held upon the sands at evening,
When the drawn tide rolls out, and the mixed light
Of sea and sky enshrouds the far, wind-bellowed
Sails that move darkly on the edge of night.

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My Song

I sang me a song, a tiny song,
A song that was sweet to my soul,
And set it a-float on the sea of chance
In search of a happy goal.

I said to my song: “Go on, go on
And lodge in a tender spot
Of some human soul where the fires of hate
And selfishness are not.”

My song went on but a little space
And hied it back to me;
And fell at my feet in a sorry plight—
The victim of cruelty.

I gazed a moment and quickly saw
Just how it had come about,
A cruel critic had caught my song
And probed the soul of it out.

O, poor indeed is the human mind
(And why was it ever wrought?)
That can thrive on husk in the form of words,
And not on a sturdy thought.

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Poem About Your Laugh

When you laugh it is all the unsynchronized clocks
in the watchmaker's shop
striking their dissident hours.
It is six blind kittens having the nipples plucked
from their mouths.
It is the ecstatic susurrus of prayer wheels.

When you laugh innumerable
pine trees shed their needles at once on one side
of the forest, indefinably altering the ecosystem.
A thousand miles away
two sharks lose their taste for blood,
mate, start a new species.

When you laugh your mouth
is the Mammoth Cave in Kentucky
and I can curl up there among the bats
intercepting their sonar.
Oh, your mouth is a diver's bell;
it takes me down untold fathoms.

And when you laugh, old dogs limp
to new patches of sunlight
which they bury for later, knowing something
about need.

-Susan Glickman

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The Reason Why

The first snow of the year falls around me.
I stare out my window. It never fails to astound me

How each flake is different. None are the same.
None try to be like others, just stay how they came.

And the frozen rain falls from the sky with no sound,
Gently drifting to rest and to sleep on the ground.

A cool white blanket hides the scars of the earth,
Covering the ground in a winter's rebirth.

And I wonder, is this beauty what you see every day?
This peaceful wonder that you overlook and say,

"This happens around me. So I walk away."
This is the beauty you overlook every day.

Outside, snow is falling. A beautiful white.
Pressing my face to the window. A beautiful sight.

All around me is beauty. But inside me is pain,
So I watch the snow falling. The frozen rain.

The surface untouched by small children's shoes.
They watch in astonishment from their window views.

Heavy flakes fall from a calming grey sky.
I'm hurting, so the sky continues to cry.

I still miss you. I miss you every day that goes by,
Knowing that I am the reason why.

So I watch the snow fall...hiding what I'm regretting.
I'm sick of remembering what you are forgetting.

I still miss you. I miss you every day that goes by,
Knowing that I am the reason why.

I still love you. I'll love you till the day I die,
Knowing that I am the reason why.

-Erica

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Just My Mask

Of course I'm fine, why do you ask?
Oh, don't mind this, it's just my mask.
It hides the grief, it hides the strife.
I wear this mask to escape the knife.

Don't forget this, my pain is real.
I'm not lying, this is how I feel.
You sit there saying it can't be true.
It is for me, just not for you.

You say my heart must be a sight,
Cold as ice and black as night.
It's not my heart, only my soul,
But killing me must be your goal.

You're getting close, I hope you know.
You really don't have far to go.
Soon enough I'll reach my end.
You'll have my soul to tear and rend.

But you don't know, you never ask.
You never look beyond the mask.
The look on my face is giving me away.
I wonder now, what will you say?

You've asked me here; you'll know now.
I'll take it off, I'll take a bow...
I can't do it now, tell you the truth.
I must keep up my pretense of youth.

"Of course I'm fine, why do you ask?
Oh, don't mind this, it's just my mask."

- Troy Dayln Bunker

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Dreams - Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

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Silence - Babette Deutsch

Silence with you is like the faint delicious
Smile of a child asleep, in dreams unguessed:
Only the hinted wonder of its dreaming,
The soft, slow-breathing miracle of rest.
Silence with you is like a kind departure
From iron clangor and the engulfing crowd
Into a wide and greenly barren meadow,
Under the bloom of some blue-bosomed cloud;
Or like one held upon the sands at evening,
When the drawn tide rolls out, and the mixed light
Of sea and sky enshrouds the far, wind-bellowed
Sails that move darkly on the edge of night.

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A Song of Hope - Charles Bertram Johnson

Day is at the gate,
I am risen late;
Clouds laze in the air,
Clouds sleep on the grass;
I have song to spare
Till the shadows pass.

Day is at the noon,
No thread of bow or moon;
Rain is in the air,
Drenched and limp the grass;
I have song to spare
Till the shadows pass.

Day is at the close,
Faith no logic knows;
Rain-clouds blur the air,
All the world is dun;
I have song to spare
Till to-morrow’s sun

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California

Rafael Campo - 1964-

I used to dream of living here. I hike
a trail I know that at the end opens

to glorious views of the city I did
live in once, when men my age kept dying

while I learned how to diagnose AIDS.
Some dreams don’t come true, and some dreams become

nightmares. Across a field that smells of sage,
a few horses loiter. I want to think that they forgive me, since they’re noble creatures.
They stamp and snort, reminding me they know

nothing of forgiveness. I used to dream
that someday I’d escape to San Francisco,

when I was still in high school and I knew.
Tall and muscled, the horses are like the jocks

on the football team who beat me once, as if pain
teaches truth and they knew I had to learn.

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A Winter Twilight

Angelina Weld Grimké

A silence slipping around like death,
Yet chased by a whisper, a sigh, a breath;
One group of trees, lean, naked and cold,
Inking their cress 'gainst a sky green-gold;
One path that knows where the corn flowers were;
Lonely, apart, unyielding, one fir;
And over it softly leaning down,
One star that I loved ere the fields went brown.

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The Famous Tay Whale
William McGonagall - 1825-1902

With one lash of its ugly and mighty tail.
Then the water did descend on the men in the boats,
Which wet their trousers and also their coats;
But it only made them the more determined to catch the whale,
But the whale shook at them his tail.
Then the whale began to puff and to blow,
While the men and the boats after him did go,
Armed well with harpoons for the fray,
Which they fired at him without dismay.
And they laughed and grinned just like wild baboons,
While they fired at him their sharp harpoons:
But when struck with the harpoons he dived below,
Which filled his pursuers’ hearts with woe:
Because they guessed they had lost a prize,
Which caused the tears to well up in their eyes;
And in that their anticipations were only right,
Because he sped on to Stonehaven with all his might:
And was first seen by the crew of a Gourdon fishing boat,

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Timothy's bike was a wonderful beast

Who liked to roll all day long.

Timothy clipped a card near the spokes

So they chattered out loud and strong.

One day Timothy was sick

And couldn't come out to play.

The bike was sad and a little bit mad,

So he decided to run away.

The bike pulled up his kickstand,

and quietly rolled across the lawn.

He hit the sidewalk and started to run,

And in a flash, he was gone.

He rode past the park, his favorite route,

Unaware he was watched by the throng.

The kids were astonished to see a bike

Rolling along with no rider on.

The kids began to chase the bike,

And so he sped quickly away.

He headed straight back to Timothy's house,

And put his kickstand down to stay.

The kids then knocked on Timothy's door,

To tell him how his bike had run away.

Tim looked at the bike still right where he'd left it,

And closed the door saying "No way."

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I'm a park bench put here for people's well being.                        I don't sing or dance, talk or walk, but simply wait.                     I have been placed near a Christmas tree for many to see.                                                    They always decorate and light up the tree and maybe even me.                                                   There's beauty all around, but sometimes needy people swing by.                                                       Like this man, many homeless ones have come to sit and think about                     their plight or about their many childhood Christmases, and start to cry.                                        I sit and wait for them to recline and rest themselves from themselves                               because it's not always what others have done to them.

by curtis johnson

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Stand tall, oh mighty oak, for all the world to see.
Your strength and undying beauty forever amazes me.
Though storm clouds hover above you,
Your branches span the sky
In search of the radiant sunlight you
Count on to survive.
When the winds are high and restless and
You lose a limb or two,
It only makes you stronger.
We could learn so much from you.
Though generations have come and gone
And brought about such change,
Quietly you've watched them all,
Yet still remained the same.
I only pray God gives to me
The strength he's given you
To face each day with hope,
Whether skies are black or blue.
Life on earth is truly a gift.
Every moment we must treasure.
It's the simple things we take for granted
That become our ultimate pleasures.

by  Kathy J Parenteau

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A family is like a circle.
The connection never ends,
and even if at times it breaks,
in time it always mends.

A family is like the stars.
Somehow they're always there.
Families are those who help,
who support and always care.

A family is like a book.
The ending's never clear,
but through the pages of the book,
their love is always near.

A family is many things.
With endless words that show
who they are and what they do
and how they teach you so you know.

But don't be weary if it's broken
or if through time it's been so worn.
Families are like that -
they're split up and always torn.

But even if this happens,
your family will always be.
They help define just who you are
and will be a part of you eternally.

by Nicole M. O'Neil

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Books are door-shaped

portals

carrying me

across oceans

and centuries,

helping me feel

less alone.

But my mother believes

that girls who read too much

are unladylike

and ugly,

so my father's books are locked

in a clear glass cabinet. I gaze

at enticing covers

and mysterious titles,

but I am rarely permitted

to touch

the enchantment

of words.

Poems.

Stories.

Plays.

All are forbidden.

Girls are not supposed to think,

but as soon as my eager mind

begins to race, free thoughts

rush in

to replace

the trapped ones.

I imagine distant times

and faraway places.

Ghosts.

Vampires.

Ancient warriors.

Fantasy moves into

the tangled maze

of lonely confusion.

Secretly, I open

an invisible book in my mind,

and I step

through its magical door-shape

into a universe

of dangerous villains

and breathtaking heroes.

Many of the heroes are men

and boys, but some are girls

so tall

strong

and clever

that they rescue other children

from monsters.
-Books are door-shaped by Margarita Engle

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When my aunt died,

my uncle raised his hands

like a prophet in the Bible.

“I've lost my girl,” he said,

“I've lost my girl,” over and over,

shaking his head.

I didn't know what to say,

where to look,

my quiet uncle raising his voice

to silence.

My aunt was eighty-seven.

“Listen,” my uncle said, sighing

like a tree alone at night,

“women know.

Every midnight on New Year's Eve,

when others sang

and laughed and hugged,

your aunt looked at me,

tears in her eyes.

Sixty years.

She knew.

One day, we'd kiss good-bye.”
- Old Love by Pat Mora

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The universe took it's time on you
crafted you precisely
so you could offer the world something distinct from everyone else
so when you doubt
how you were created
you doubt an energy greater than us both

- Rupi Kaur

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Autumn brushes her hair slowly
Letting the glorious colors flow gently to the earth below.
Showing off vibrant colors in contrast to summer's green dress.

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A family is like a circle.
The connection never ends,
and even if at times it breaks,
in time it always mends.

A family is like the stars.
Somehow they're always there.
Families are those who help,
who support and always care.

A family is like a book.
The ending's never clear,
but through the pages of the book,
their love is always near.

A family is many things.
With endless words that show
who they are and what they do
and how they teach you so you know.

But don't be weary if it's broken
or if through time it's been so worn.
Families are like that -
they're split up and always torn.

But even if this happens,
your family will always be.
They help define just who you are
and will be a part of you eternally.

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We Wear the Mask

by Paul Laurence Dunbar

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!

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Jocelyn Alejandre - Personification Poem

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Jocelyn Alejandre - Personification Poem

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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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An Ocean Of Memories

Kimberly L. Briones

My family is the ocean around us.

My father is the hurricane,
knocking anything and everybody out of his path.

My mother is the sunshine after the storm (my father),
clearing and calming everything else.

My oldest brother is the sand,
kicked and blown away by my dad,
but warmed with care by my mom.

My oldest sister is the breeze in the wind,
cool, quiet, and there when you need her.

My other two brothers are the stingrays,
dangerous,
but also willing to fight anyone who comes along.

And I,
I am an old ship at the bottom of the sea,
lost, abandoned, but full of memories.

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Love is a walk in the rain at night,
Two hands holding onto each other tight;
Love is honey on a pair of lips,
Onto a tender heart it drips;
Love is a soft and gentle touch;
Your heart, a child's hand may clutch,
Love is a song that stains the air,
Dead or not, it's always there;
Love is both the sun and moon,
Across the sky, like stars, it's strewn;
Love is a tree of abundant fruit,
Giving and serving with every new shoot;
Love is a document, faithful and strong,
To one another, now do you belong;
Love is a river that rages with passion,
Finding ways to calm pools no matter the fashion.

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My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;

Coral is far more red than her lips' red;

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damasked, red and white,

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

And in some perfumes is there more delight

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know

That music hath a far more pleasing sound;

I grant I never saw a goddess go;

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

As any she belied with false compare.

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I wandered lonely as a cloud by William Wordsworth

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.

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Tulips by Sylvia Plath

The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves.

The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;

They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,

And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes

Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.

The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,

And comes from a country far away as health.

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Love is by Jessica P
Love is a walk in the rain at night,
Two hands holding onto each other tight;
Love is honey on a pair of lips,
Onto a tender heart it drips;
Love is a soft and gentle touch;
Your heart, a child's hand may clutch,
Love is a song that stains the air,
Dead or not, it's always there;
Love is both the sun and moon,
Across the sky, like stars, it's strewn;
Love is a tree of abundant fruit,
Giving and serving with every new shoot;
Love is a document, faithful and strong,
To one another, now do you belong;
Love is a river that rages with passion,
Finding ways to calm pools no matter the fashion.

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Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

“I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.”

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“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

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Mom's Embrace

By Michele Meleen

My mom is like a cloud,
comfortable and strong.
I am like a raindrop
she keeps safe and sound.
When I am fully formed
she'll let me go
dropping into the world
like a raindrop to the ground.

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“Hope” is the thing with feathers - (314)

BY EMILY DICKINSON

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

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A Red, Red Rose

BY ROBERT BURNS
O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.

So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.

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Two Sunflowers Move in the Yellow Room – William Blake

“Ah, William, we’re weary of weather,”
said the sunflowers, shining with dew.
“Our traveling habits have tired us.
Can you give us a room with a view?”

They arranged themselves at the window
and counted the steps of the sun,
and they both took root in the carpet
where the topaz tortoises run.

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The flowers are given actions of humans.
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.
William Wordsworth

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Comparing himself to a basketball
My Life is Basketball
My eyes are big before the game starts My body covered in hope 18 years of practice My mind is focused I have only one purpose I visualize everything I want to do My home the court The crowd surrounding with their big eyes watching Attracted to the bright lights My team behind me Weaving in and out of expectant fans Making our way to the court Endless cameras Each other's families Still sensing the sudden thrill of anticipation We circle up, hands together, chanting A team together All focused on glory Where we will Live forever By: Zachary K

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It is comparing a mirror to love

Love is a Mirror By Quinn
A sharpened dagger stabbed in his heart,
Ripping in two, ripping apart.
It took only a few words, but her words cut him deep,
Stealing emotions, making him weak.
A two sided mirror true in reflection,
A double edged knife cutting connections,
A place in his heart forever reserved
For the one that he loved but didn't deserve.
She twisted the dagger; it tore him apart.
She stole what was left; she stole a broken heart.

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Mother to Son

BY LANGSTON HUGHES

Metaphor Poem:  Life is being compared

to a crystal Stair

Well, son, I’ll tell you:

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

It’s had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor—

Bare.

But all the time

I’se been a-climbin’ on,

And reachin’ landin’s,

And turnin’ corners,

And sometimes goin’ in the dark

Where there ain’t been no light.

So boy, don’t you turn back.

Don’t you set down on the steps

’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.

Don’t you fall now—

For I’se still goin’, honey,

I’se still climbin’,

And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

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the tree is given characteristics and actions that humans do.

Tree at my Window (by Robert Frost)
But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me when I was taken and swept
And all but lost.
That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather.

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How good to lie a little while
And look up through the tree!
The Sky is like a kind big smile
Bent sweetly over me.

The Sunshine flickers through the lace
Of leaves above my head,
And kisses me upon the face
Like Mother, before bed.

The Wind comes stealing o'er the grass
To whisper pretty things;
And though I cannot see him pass,
I feel his careful wings.

So many gentle Friends are near
Whom one can scarcely see,
A child should never feel a fear,
Wherever he may be.

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Comparing herself to animals.

Sally cried, "Hey everyone, I want you to watch me.

I can swing on this play gym just like a monkey."

She swung bar to bar until one bar she missed,

Then she fell and was so mad like an angry cat she hissed.
By:  Kelly Roper

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His "luv" is being compared to a red rose

A Red, Red Rose

By Robert Burns

O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.

So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.

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The Mirror/speaker is being personified

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.

Sylvia Plath