In Literacy, we started the year with a poetry unit. We were thinking about creating images and to do this, we used similes, adjectives and some of used personification. These are some of our poems.
My Scary Monster
My monsters eyes are like a sea monsters deep dark tail.
My monsters teeth are as sharp as a wolf’s howl.
My monsters mouth is as slobbery as a sewers gut.
My monsters skin is as rough as a piece of crumpled sugar paper.
My monsters legs are as knobbly as The Gruffalo’s.
My monsters heart is as sad and cold as a metal brick resting in the icy snow.
My monsters roar is as loud as a clap of thunder.
My monsters smell is as bad as a bath in the dump.
My Lovely Monster
My monsters deep blue eyes are as soft as big, bouncy feather bed.
My monsters teeth are as smooth as a silk duvet.
My monsters mouth is as furry as a fluffy dogs tummy.
My monsters skin is as cuddly as a bunny.
My monsters legs are as pretty as lavender.
My monsters heart is as loving as the kindest person in the whole wide world.
My monsters roar is as gentle as a flower.
My monsters smell is as loving as a rose.
The Magic Box
I will put in my box the dying legs that have just ran a marathon,
The glorious taste of hot chocolate on a freezing winters day,
The smelly socks that have been worn all the way through a 90 minute football match.
I will put in my box the amazing feeling of scoring the winning goal at the World Cup,
The rich taste of melted chocolate,
A crying city on a rainy day.
I will put in my box the gentle breeze on a hot summers day,
The last breath of Jesus before he sacrificed himself for us, to save our sins,
The excitement of parents as their baby takes its first steps.
My box is fashioned from the metal of every sword that was ever made.
My box has secrets hidden in every corner.
My box has fireworks hidden in the lid.
The Sound Collector of St. Joseph’s
A stranger came this morning
Dressed all in black and grey
Put every sound into a bag
And carried them away
The clattering of the children
As they enter the Life Education bus
The laughter of Miss Buxton
Echoing down the corridor
The footsteps of children
Down the busy corridor
The silence of the quiet critters
As they look at us work hard
The scratching of the pencils
As the children are hard at work.
The ringing of the telephone
In the busy school office
A stranger called this morning
He didn’t leave his name
Left us only silence
Life will never be the same.