Our Black Poem

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