You are on page 1of 12

The Secrets of Our Surroundings

poems by Clearview School children written during a School for Young Writers Workshop 8-9 May, 2013
Tutor Jason Clements Programme director Dr Glyn Strange

Editors Note The poems from this workshop are a very good result from a 2-day workshop that introduced ideas and ways of going about things that may have been new to many of the participants. The work produced in any such workshop always needs editing because there is never enough time for a final polish. The editing done here ranges from simple correction of punctuation and lineation to the occasional re-ordering or deletion of words to avoid ambiguity or to

make the meaning clear. Generally the work was of a high standard and little editing was required. ~ Glyn Strange, Director, School for Young Writers

Farmlands A mountain bike pedals along a gravel road. Pigeons chirp as if cheering and swallows swoop and dive. Sheep bleat and hide from the blinding sun burning their woollen coats. Foals jump and frolic neighing in the dry grass. A spider creeps along the handlebars leaving a long trail of silk to help me find my way home. Amy McMillan, Year 8

Facing Phobias As the sea rolls and rumbles underneath the ferrys hull frightened faces turn green from motion sickness. Lightning crackles like nerves frayed by fear. The heavens are illuminated like a firework display as rain pounds on the deck. The cabins turn pitch black as girls scream in the dark afraid of a spider spreading silken webs. Breanna Evans, Year 7

Lifting the Curse Moss on an oak tree is like a furry beard. Bark tears like banana peel from the trunk. Pea tendrils are barbed wire on a battlefield. Cutty grass knives stab like bayonets. Mosaics in the garden are stained glass windows as safe as the sanctuary of a church. Burning sage gets rid of my curse of being stuck inside with the girls all day long. Rhys Henderson, Year 7

Fishing with Dad Whangarei harbour flourishes like a playground for bait-fish to play hide and seek. Crabs fight over rocky territory like a twelve-round boxing match. Snapper weave through seaweed to avoid a fishing net. The Pacific licks the side of the boat like a child slurping a lemonade popsicle. Gannets are vultures waiting for the remains of our squid bait. The boats cabin is a treasure cove where the aroma of our catch lingers until tea time. Ryan Faulkner, Year 7

Autumn Forest Goosebumps appear as the sun sinks deep like an anchor into the night. Golden oak leaves fill the sky like autumn stars. I climb to the tree tops. as if on a beanstalk. Descending from the knotted canopy is like abseiling down a dreadlock. Mist suffocates the forest floor and the fallen leaves become compost. Georgia Myers, Year 7

Royal Reversal Cavalier King Charles spaniels prance around the park like princes. Their master hides pork dog-biscuits in his pocket for training treats. He calls his dogs and climbs over a wooden ramp only followed by his shadow. They stand as still as the corgi statues. The universe is reversed: master becomes servant. MacKenzie Parker, Year 8

Gardens in Glory Slugs and snails live under Portobello mushrooms growing as tall as skyscrapers to house the residents. Stinging nettles stab at invading wasps breaking the barrier of the strawberry patch. Sparrows swoop down with claws like ballpoint pens. Robins soar through cabbage-tree leaves covered in dew that cleans their wings like a car wash. Jolie Coleman, Year 7

Surviving the Wilderness The forest floor is a pantry for students learning survival skills. Rotting oak tree stumps store edible mushrooms. A trail of liquid slime leads to a jackpot of bugs bodies squishing in the damp. The insect turns numb cradled in a tight grasp. Too scared to hold the bug myself I close my eyes and block my nose while chewing the huhu grub. Sophie Watson, Year 7

Finding your Voice The guitars body sits on a stand covered by a thin layer of dust. The plastic pick lost in the sound hole is like a corn chip stuck in my throat. The metal capo clings beside the tuning pegs like an artificial limb. The nylon strings of the classical guitar wait for my fingers to warm its vocal chords. Ella Curtis-Smith, Year 8

Metamorphosis Caterpillar legs crawl along the balance bar like ballerinas learning to pli. Dancers break in their shoes by stretching the curve of their arches. Pirouettes en pointe spin the girls into a chrysalis. Trading leotards for tutus and stripes for wings of beauty. Paige Sullivan, Year 8

Related Interests