Here I will post any poems that I have to do for school. Feel free to comment on them.
Note: I have not copied them Emily...or who-ever else from my class is reading this.
Seasons
Four seasons we have, each with a price. At times each are fun and at times not so nice. However we endure them with effortless ease, With heaters and coolers to warm up our knees.
Summer brings sunlight, and warm blue-sky days. Nothing is free from the suns bright rays. But sometimes the heat can get too much to bear. So inside we retreat, where we condition the air.
Autumn is known as the season of Fall, When the leaves leave the trees making them look so small. The footpath is littered with hue of red and green, And up on the trees not a leaf is to be seen.
Next is Winter, filled with coldness and gloom. The sheer frostyness enters each room. A heater is all that we can use to stop it, But we can rug up in blankets and learn how to knit.
Finally Spring is here and in the air, The air is now warmer and no-one has a care. The End of School is suddenly in sight. And the cold chill of Winter is gone from the night.
I was happy how lives rhymes with skies at the end...
Rainy Day by Ryan H (KingRyan)
The rain pours down on the dry city, Filling creeks, dams and streams. It is like a refreshing drink, Setting a flow all our dreams.
The rain pours down wetting the earth, It soaks down to the roots of the trees. Refilling the Aquifers and renewing life, Yet it seems to dampen our moods like a contagious disease.
As the miserable weather matches our mood, We sit inside all day waiting for the sky to clear. Watching old movies to pass the time, And as we go to sleep, the pitter-patter is all we can here.
Eventually the rain stops and we venture outside, But the ground is muddy and wet, We get dripped on by trees, And as it thunder claps we realise the rain isnât over yet.
But soon the sun comes out and we know itâs done, And we continue on with our lives. But a rainbow reminds us of what has just been, Shining bright for all to see in the skies.
There is this great thing called sport But whenever i play I get naught I got kicked off the team But playing again is my dream But I'll have to convince my cohort?
Another poem I wrote...I like it when poems just come naturally...and you don't have to think 'em up...
The sun shines down on us, Heating the ground. We have naught to do, We just make a slight sound.
The ground is parched, Just like our throats, And we just sit here, Like weâre in a grounded boat.
And so we wait for the rains to come, And it was like waiting for paint to dry, There were no clouds to be seen, It was like the ocean had turned into the sky.
And we lay there forever waiting, On ground like a turned off fountain, Then we saw the clouds, Sitting over the mountain.
But though it was there we knew, That its rain wouldnât reach us. But it might provide some relief, And any sun relief is a plus.
