Year 8 Poetry
We are Poets and We Know It!
Year 8 English students completed a Poetry Unit last term, during which they both wrote and analysed poems. They experimented with a range of poetic techniques, including alliteration, rhythm, imagery, similes and metaphors. Here are some of the lovely pieces they produced.
Haiku
by Harvey
On a green plateau
the flower grows in the sun.
A blooming beauty.
School
by Hank
It looks like a highway in Melbourne
on the holidays
and sounds like a thunderstorm.
As I walk into a room
I am hit by the smells of teenagers.
The air tastes like ink from the printed work sheets.
My book feels like sandpaper.
School is like an ant’s nest.
Heather
by Zaihret
Her personality was a fuzzy yellow in a sea of grey,
her smile a blossoming Spring flower.
She was the sharp waves at Bondi Beach.
Her hair was the soft rain against the harsh tin roof,
her arms a warm, woolly jumper on Winter evenings.
Her shoulder was a pillow on which I could cry.
Our laughs were a pure Brooklyn 99 episode,
her embrace warming soup on a sick Autumn afternoon.
Coffee
By Zaylee
A cup of coffee,
brown,
Winter time.
I’m in my home.
My mouth is a hot sunny day
(not truly
it’s cold and raining).
An oodie and trackies are my coffee clothes,
a soft, comfy couch.
The Morning Show entertains me,
perfectly coated Tim Tams, the only accompaniment.
Grey
By Bailey
Grey is a misty fog
and the sadness of mourning.
For how long will it last?
Grey is a rotting corpse,
a tree, old and torched.
Grey means death is upon you
and rest is soon to come.
Grey is peacefulness,
eerily calm.
Blue
By Alex
Blue is the water in Summer
and an icy pole too.
Does life get much better?
Blue is the open sky
and the beautiful, salty sea.
It is a pen on paper,
life and excitement.
Blue is the colour of our Earth
and a nursery soaked in sunlight.
Blue is hydrangeas.
and newfound hope.
Growing Pains
By Hazel
Kids line up like lambs to the slaughter.
Judgement echoes through the laughter
like hyenas cackling at a kill.
Stress and anxiety cause isolation,
like a caterpillar in a cocoon.
My mouth dries,
like the desert sand.
The stench of rumours runs rampant,
like sewer rats.