Another part of the Get New Zealand Writing project was to create a poem using metaphors to describe a colour. The class voted
BLACK their favourite colour and here is the poem:
Black
Black
is the colour of my size six High Top Converses.
A
monsters favourite colour is black so they can creep at night.
Black,
the colour of the dark smoke from a house on fire.
Creepy
crawly black spiders getting washed away by the blue water.
Black,
the colour of the ashes that fall like raindrops.
The
colour of the storm when Father Zeus is angry with us humans is black.
Black
is my brother when he loses a game of Fortnite.
My
arm turns black after my father punches it just for fun.
Black,
the colour of birds flying swiftly through the air.
Batman
without his yellow symbol is black.
Black,
the colour of darkness and despair.
Black,
the colour of the Sky Father when he is crying for Papatuanuku.
Black
is the colour of the cold breezy night as we go to bed.
The
world sucking, never ending Black Hole.
Black
paru feet after running after everyone.
Black
ash floating slowly down from the exploding volcano.
Before
thunder and lightning the sky is black.
Black
the colour of the trolls when they lose their fun side.
Black
like the dark hole leading you nowhere.
As
black as the thin stretchy hair tie that holds up my long bushy hair.
The
San Antonio basketball team wear black.
Black
is the colour of an alleyway at night time.
The
colour I see when I close my eyes, is black.
Black
is what swallows up the good in someone’s heart.
Black
scary spiders getting ready to bite me with their fangs.
Black
like Hades dark and miserable world.
The
colour of my rotten soul is black.
Black
feels like sadness and despair.
Black
is New Zealand’s national rugby team.
Black,
the colour of the storm as it comes and ruins everyone’s day.
Black
is the bandana that the vigilante wears.
The
class chrome books are black.
Black,
the wet sticky tar that sticks to my feet on a hot, sunny day.
Black,
the colour of my soul when I’m sad.
Black
are the words of hate spewing from his mouth.
Black
feels like I’ve just been rejected by a friend.
Black
is what covers up dark, dark secrets.
Black
like the empty vacuum of space and my heart when I’m sad.
Black
is the colour of the bats flying around the haunted house.
One
of the traditional colours in our Maori culture is black.
Black
are most of the teacher’s clothes.
Black,
the colour inside the man who killed in Christchurch.
Black
ink scribbled on white paper.
Black
are the clouds haunting the sky.
Black,
the eyes of a ghost ready to haunt you for the rest of your days.
The
black smoke drifts in from the bonfire.
Black
like a tuxedo worn by a rich man.
Black
is my soul.
Black
like rubber burning on the road.
Black
is the colour of the firewood as the flame burns down.
Black
like burnt toast.
Black,
the smoke coming out of the chimney on a cold morning.
Black
is the colour of an eerie alley.
Black
like the heart of my cat as it sits there and looks at me in disgust.
Black
Room 10, Tokoroa Intermediate 2019
