Imagery in PoetryWhat do our words make you see? think? feel?

When it is Cloudy By: Jenna

When it is cloudy

the Murraydog

is the only piece of

sunshine

in my day

The Morning

By: Ananya

As the wave of sunlight hits the bed

Life starts to show

Making everything bright

The day has begun

It is the

Morning

The Snail by Thomas

The thing was small

And faceless,

And barf green.

It was quite slow,

but turned,

And moved in the opposite direction.

On it, there was a rock-sort-of-thing,

And something inside,

Something hiding,

It was gross.

I put it down,

And it ran,

sort of…

To the grass,

Slow,

But with much effort,

It slithered- that creature

Small, faceless, barf green,

Part slug, part rock,

But something that was neither.

For it was… you know what it is…

Its Game Time Smooth and Slick

Red and Blue Lines

Painted across the ice

The lights hanging above

Shinning down on the

Silent new layers of ice

The goals mounted behind

The crease the puck laying in

The center of the rink its

Game time

By Jack

The Death Ceature His body was oval like

And scaly

And orange

And as he passed the fake treasure chest

He turned

And Snapped at the fish food

Which was never alive and sinking

And I saw the flash of his dangerous orange tail

And a row of no teeth

And eyes Darker than death itself

Soft and circular and smooth

Then he jumped out of the water

With his two little fins

And landed with a soft splash back in water

Gracefully,

And effortlessly

He swam- That stupid fish

Oval like, scaly and orange

Part shark, part tiger?

Part neither- for he was scarier than both of those animals

By Pearce

The Weeping Angel By: Madeleine

Her body the shape of a sacred angel

And cold

And cracked,

And as you watch her you blink

She turns,

And touches your hand

Then you find yourself stuck in days gone by.

And when you see the stone monster,

And her sharp stone teeth,

And eyes of dull stone years old,

Blank and lifeless and stone.

When you turn your back she moves,

Faster than lightning,

Silently racing

Hungrily,

Hatefully,

She flies-The strange statue

A sacred angel, cold, cracked,

Some of her a statue some of her an animal

Some of her neither- for when you look she is stone.

The Vampire By: Meghana

His body was pale

And cold

And lifeless,

And as he passed the tunnel

He turned,

And snapped at a young boy

Who was exhausted and starving.

And I saw the flash of pearly fangs, And a pair of bloodstained canines,

And eyes of blood red,

Like a black hole, dark and endless Then away from the tunnel With those feet covered in blood Walking without a noise on the concrete Smoothly, Calmly, He walked – That dark thing Pale, cold, lifeless Part monster, part animal, Part neither – for he has no emotion

Not Only Blocks By Ethan

Y ou can do whatever you want

It’s not only a game

It’s a game

With blocks that can be placed

A nd can be crafted

A nd mined

A nd it can be programmed

To do anything you want

Such as make a statue walk

A nd say something

A nd disappear

A nd the blocks

A r e not just blocks

In Minecraft

Otis

His body was small

And skinny

And black and white

And as he walked down the hall

He turned,

And jumped in his bed

Which was green and furry.

And I saw a flash of white belly

And eyes of black coal,

Big and dark and full.

Then out of the bedroom,

With his four small paws

Blazing out of the door

Swiftly ,

Eagerly,

He trotted – that strange dog

Small, skinny,

black and white

By Lily