Writers' journals riddles and poems

Every Wednesday we start the day with observational drawing and writing in our writers' journals. There's a fad for riddles going on at the moment, along with our usual passion for poetry...

The helicopter
by Francesca

The helicopter falls around and around
in circles
and flutters in a slight breeze.
It got rumpled
rain's sliding down the base of the wings
it cracks and crackles
in the breeze
fluttering downwards.


Colours
by Peta

There are colours
that nobody can name
it has patterns of all kinds
slippery like silk
it has some bumps
that can only be felt
they can't be seen
but they can be touched
the vampire teeth
want to hurt the people
the taste buds 
want to taste some more blood.


The shadow's shadow
by Ella

My shadow has a shadow
and the shadow is me
we are exactly the same
but when he goes away
I am all alone...


Guess what I am!
By Mel

I sparkle 
in the sunlight
I glow 
the colours of the rainbow
I also can crack again
in any shape
What am I?
                     ... paua!

I swirl around
like a tornado
I'm sharp 
at the end and
I get fatter
at the bottom
at all times
I can hear
the light
waves of the sea
What am I?
                     ... a shell!

I twirl
and twirl
around as
I get down
like a helicopter
I am light brown
and I have veins
that you can see.
What am I?
                     ... a maple tree seed!

As I hit the ground
I go
thump thump
thump and 
sometimes crack.
I can be found
nearly everywhere
in different way.
What am I?
                     ... a rock!

As I fall I land in heaven and turn
from green to yellow to orange
to red and finally to brown
and lie there
but I can still
travel around the world.
What am I?
                    ... a leaf!


Morning
by Luca

feet frozen,
cheeks tingling, zip tightened
hands shoved into pockets

I trudge up the alleyway

My hair flying back into the wind


Fuzzy figure
by Dot

It's fluffy like a toy dog
it's brown like chocolate
it's warm in my hands
it's fuzzy and fuzzy and
fuzzy!

Clock
by Dot

tick tock tick tock
it's a clock
now it's 6 o' clock

Untitled
by Dot

A smooth
rich caramel brown triangle 
on my grey hard desk
stripes of light,
bright and white
looks like a yellow lemony colour
on the back


Untitled
by Aliya

one small cut shell
with a hole
shaped like the sea
one little shell with lines curved
like the calm sea

The frame
by Aliya

It's a mini frame of shell
as white as snow
sitting on my dull grey desk
and it looks magical


The shell
by Amelie

the wavy swirly pattern on the shell
pale orange, skin colour, creamy white,
a blob of colour on the beach,
plainly the colour of bleach!


Who am I?
by Tama

It's in the middle
but with more than one
it's very quiet
but only when told
it has a clown
that's upside down
but all of them
are really stars.
Who am I?
                    ...M13!


Changes
a found poem by Joe

The north wind doth blow
Dragon smoke rain wind
who has seen the wind
to a red kite
windy nights stopping by woods
on a snowy evening.


Untitled
by Saoirse

the orange egg rubs against my palm
making me quiver
all over.


The flappy thing
by Mahinaz

the flappy thing is
if you throw it up
it comes down
like a helicopter thing
at the top 
and it goes light to dark
and there's a circle on it
and at the bottom it is little
and beautiful


What am I?
by Jamieson

I look like gas
I live under the water.
I am tasty to eat.
What am I?
A piece of paua.

I am black and white
and like a stick.
What am I?
A tiger snake.

I am black and yellow
and I am venomous.
What am I?
A black and yellow frog
that is venomous.

night poems | By Ella

The moon and stars

The dark sky is a blanket
the stars are holes
and the moon is a torn edge
that the birds disappear into
when the sun wakes up
it simply pushes away
and shines its morning shine


In the night

In the night the wind whispers to the trees.
In the night the bush animals snuggle into a bed of leaves.
In the night I look out my bedroom window and listen to the glistening trees...
And stare at the twinkling stars then snuggle down and fall asleep.

Dressed for dance - writing prompt

what can this man hear?

see?

smell?

taste?

touch/ feel?

what might he be thinking?

doing...?

will you write in the 1st or 3rd person?

Photo from the Guardian's 24 hours in pictures

Poetry by Francesca

           The wind

The wind comes the wind goes

It disappears as the wind passes by

It can be soft it can be hard

It can be icy it can be hot

No matter what type it is, it is still wind.

         

          Floating down

Patches of black appear on the spotlight of the stage

Quivering like helicopters

The wind blows by and it twirls around and around

It’s veiny and silky tattered in rips

It’s dark and light

Guess what I am?!

Shell | by Sofia

It's small like a ring.
It's got a touch of pink glitter, and
all around it is white.
It's like a white feather
all around the pink.
It feels flat and then
it goes up
and flat again.

The windiest day | by Peta

My face turns white
there's no snow or ice
but an Autumn breeze is freezing cold;
I think there's a frog in my throat.

What am I...? by Cody

1.

I am oval-shaped.
I have seeds.
I have a green outside
and a green and red inside.
What am I...?!

2.

I am a circle shape.
I have seeds.
I have a red floppy outside
and dark red juice inside.
What am I...?!

1.

red kiwifruit!

2.

dragonfruit!

Our writers' circle

Every Wednesday we start the day by writing observations in our Writer's Journals.  Today, at Tama's suggestion, we sat in a circle outside afterwards to share our writing with each other.  We always give each other feedback at the end - today we really liked each other's descriptive writing.

Spiky

The spiky feeling you get when you touch it...

You look closely 
it's a nut
spiky and crumbled, 
sharp.

It tastes like vanilla
and feels like a knife
poking you hard

and it looks like a spiky brush!

By Cody

The nut

It looks like a hedgehog
but it is a nut.

It's got razor-sharp spikes
to protect it from getting eaten.

It feels rough.
It tastes like vanilla.
It smells like toast.

By Quinn



Tree sap

Glowing in the sun
see through 
once golden-brown
with bubbles of goo
shining in the sun

By Eve



It flows off the pohutukawa tree
it fades and loses its colour
then lies still like sand
but it can still travel the world

By Meline



A knot tied of prickles
they're the colour of corn
burnt on fire
black streaks

By Peta



Lumpy crusty shell:
it tastes like paint
it has a gloomy shadow
pink green blue orange and silver
it brings the sea with it.

by Peta



Freezing white shell
sitting on the sand.
The wind swaying 
from side to side
forcing the waves to crash 
and wash the rocks.
The shell still sits there.

By Jamie




In the city 
a poster of a shell
shines in the light
glistening till night-time

By Jamie

The Storm | By Dot

Icicles drip down the window
as lightning strikes
and thunder roars.
Rain pours on the roof
like boulders.
The fire burns
and cinders shake.
Stars are sewn
on to a blanket
that's black
and covers the sky above.

Can you guess what this is...? | By Francesca

Sharp spiky rocks form up
from the hard surface.
A dark black path
leads beneath the hill.
At the front it looks like
a giant snail shell
crawling across the rocky sand.
A slim pokey stick
sneaks out the back.
It's like a mini
microphone!

The Autumn Winds | by Niamh

The wind brushed
against my face
not as strong as yesterday,
as the day before,
just soft.
It whistles in the breeze;
it blows the leaves of the trees.

I love Autumn
and its wind.

The rapid winds | by Saoirse

The rapid winds rock me
from side to side.

I urge my feet
through the force field
but all the little wind people
are too strong
for my little feet.

I feel like I'm going
to bang in to
the big green pole.

By Saoirse

a crusty shell

Every Wednesday morning we start the day by writing observations in our writers' journal.  Today Sofia was observing a crusty shell:

A broken shell

It feels crusty. On the back it's shiny and colourful. It looks like a broken shell. It smells like a washed-up shell on the beach.

Here's her picture:

When she read it to the class we noticed that she described the senses: what she could feel, see, and smell.  Laila suggested that she describe the taste but Sofia wasn't so sure!

We're going to try and spend time during the week noticing what we see, hear, feel, taste, and smell so that we're ready to write our observations in our writers' journals on Wednesdays.  Then we can use these ideas to spark our writing.