Showing posts with label George. Show all posts
Showing posts with label George. Show all posts

Friday, 4 May 2018

Toitoi 11 is here!

Congratulations to author Jack McKay whose poem 'Tiny Things' was published in the latest edition of Toitoi. Artist Amy Schonert was also selected as an illustrator for this edition. Amy illustrated the poem 'The Sister Puzzle'.

They are pictured below with artists and authors published in Toitoi 10; Chloe Kitchingman, George Grundy, Ava Mackay and Ruby Kitchingman.






Members of our Russley Writers' Group devouring the latest issue of Toitoi.



Tiny Things

ants creeping in between cracks
of an old house

cookie crumbs sticking
to stinky feet

clear lego spuds
sucked up by a vacuum cleaner

rattle, tap, ping

pins fallen on the ground
right side up

one letter words

specks, spiders, molecules

by Jack McKay


Sunday, 27 August 2017

National Poetry Day

25 August was National Poetry Day. Four Russley Writers were selected to represent Russley School at the School for Young Writers Open Mic Event.

Kara, George, Mirette and Marly shared their brilliant poems with an appreciative audience, impressing the School for Young Writers' director, Heather McQuillan. Congratulations to these talented emerging poets.



George
Do Journeys Ever Really End?
by George Grundy                                  

The cold glass stings my cheek
making sure I don't sleep.
The bus seat slowly regains its subtle warmth
my mind races in confusion.

The engine wails and Lucas complains grumpily.
But finally the door pings open
the freshness bites like a snake.

My mind relaxes
I step out into the cold,
with a vague sense of freedom

a lone boat rocks,
and the ocean sparkles and ripples
waiting to devour.


Tick on my Bucket List
by Kara Visser

Golden Eiffel Tower attracting
Kara
bright lights shining

Fireworks pounding against the faded out sky
photos snapping

Soft, crunchy croissants crumbling
small sugar cubes slowly dissolving
in my English breakfast tea

Faint wafts of sunblock
crinkly shopping bags
from the early morning market
Soft euros tempting
in my pocket

Michael bounces in his pram
as he waits for his ice cream

In my hand
a miniature  Eiffel Tower sits
in a snow globe
- as I twist and turn it
little sparkles fall

There’s a tick on my bucket list
that says I’ve been to Paris.

Denim Hope by Marly Shenouda               
Marly

I am an indigo bunting, my
feathers ruffling in the wind

I am the hope diamond
unearthed in India

I taste like juicy berries that
pop in your mouth

I sound like crashing waves
of the Pacific Ocean

I am gloomy street lights flickering
in the depth of the night

I smell like Chatham Island forget-me-nots
thriving on a rocky cliff

I am cold, cutting at your nostril hairs
as you breathe in the icy air

I am
the colour Blue

Thorns Defeated by Mirette Ghobrial

At first it was unnoticed
Hiding in the midst of what seemed to be normal
At first it was like a little piece of string
Weak and tiny

But I didn’t realise
That I had been feeding it
I didn’t comprehend that it was growing
Growing like a fire
I chose to ignore it

I chose never to explore it
It began to sprout
It began to swell
Mirette

It’s thorns thickened  
It had become a monster  
Constricting with vicious teeth

And when finally I noticed
It was beyond late
I had to get rid of it
So, I tried to find its roots
To tear the worry out

But instead I found
A little bud of hope   
Pushing through the rough earth

Shaded by the thorny plant
Little did I know that it was treasure

With rain of encouragement and time
the little bud became a stem
The stem became a strong tree

Stretching far and high
it conquered the thorn bush

I began reaching
for the new tree’s high branches
Its uneven surface scratched my weak skin

When I was high up in it
Joy filled my heart

The tree was called hope
It conquered
My worries
 

21078387_710734739137616_5918780748829772769_n.jpg
Here is a poem we wrote during the break between the junior and senior events. It has been featured on the School for Young Writers' website, and the National Poetry Day site. Famous!
Six poets gathered
at XCHC Cafe
where they collected thoughts
on bruschetta stained napkins
devouring, they listened
while licking their fingers
to the sound of coffee beans 
grinding like gravel
and people ordering
karma cola, nachos 
and free verse poetry
24/8/17 Poets 6
for National Poetry Day

Tuesday, 8 March 2016

The Moon is a Cold Frown



THE MOON IS A COLD FROWN - by George Grundy


The moon is a cold frown 

sailing through the night.


The moon is a despised 

piece of cheese.


It is a checker piece 

cowering in the back of the army.


It is a watch ticking 

and ticking,


timing its rising.


THE MOON - by Lucas dG-T


The moon is a bright glowing ball,
lighting the world down below.

The moon is a cricket ball
gilding across the world.

The moon is a juicy orange
wolves leaping to grab it.


The moon -

by Keziah Veer


The moon is a gliding soccer ball

on a field of black


It is a shimmering pin

held in a dark room at night


It is a small pebble

sinking deep into the sea


It is a bright yellow lamppost

faintly lighting up a long dark tunnel


It is a shiny hairpin

in masses of black hair


It is a clock

telling you its night time

on the shadowed hotel wall



The Silver Moon - by Anna Boulton


The moon is a silver button 

shimmering on a dark coat.


It is a glimmer of blue sky 

on a rainy day.

It is a white jelly-fish dancing 

in the deep blue ocean.


The moon is a large grey mushroom 

in a field of little flowers.

It is a shiny pin 

on a raven black wall.




The Moon - by Sacha Wilkin


The moon is a round cheese placed on 

             blue picnic blanket 

It is a beach ball, forgotten and left to

        float across the dark ocean

It is a button sewn to a shirt at, at the

           bottom of the drawers 

The moon is a tattered soccer ball flying

    across a field of soccer players




The Shining Moon, by Ryan Selinger


The moon is a 

fierce boomerang striking 

a kangaroo in the grasslands.


The moon is a wrinkly boat

surfing on the waves.


The moon is a colourful beach ball

bouncing off sweaty hands.


The moon is a bowling ball 

coming out of hands going down the lane.


The moon is a baseball, 

slipping out of a tough glove.


The moon is a blunted tyre

on a car going down the road.




The great big moon - by Madeline Hann


The moon is a bright balloon tied to a bunch

 of constellations.

It is a cricket ball getting smacked

 by a meteor.


It is a dolphin frolicking

 about in the inky blackness.

It is a bowling ball hurtling 

towards the pins.


It is a silver scythe slicing

up the galaxy.

It is a full stop surrounded by a 

whirling snow blizzard


It is a ball of gum getting churned

 around by big black holes.



Iain Sharp is a black kite adrift on changeable winds

The Russley Writing Club heard a poem by NZ author Iain Sharp. His auto-biographical poem, uses metaphors to give the reader an insight as to who Iain Sharp is.

Here are the first two stanzas of Iain Sharp's poem:

The Iain Sharp Poem

Iain Sharp is a fat parcel
of mixed groceries
tied with a clumsy knot.

Iain Sharp is a black kite
adrift on changeable winds.

If you would like to read the rest of the poem, google Iain Sharp or check out his poetry in your local library.

We tried writing our own versions, creating metaphors to give clues as to what kind of personality we are. 

Here are a few of my favourites:
"I am an orchestra, tuning instruments..."


The Lucas De Groot – Tsuji Poem


I am a damp, torn envelope

in a cold, dark mailbox.

I am a shiny new cricket bat

waiting to hit huge sixes.

I am a battered old truck

with morning punctured wheels.

I am a big plain field, with little sheep

nibbling bits of me.

I am a pet dogaraptor,

always organised and on time.

I am an orchestra, 

tuning instruments.

When I look in the mirror

I look battered, old, shiny and new;

waiting for more adventure… 

this is just the beginning!


The David Ghobrial Poem


I am a ginormous fat parcel

too big to fit inside the mail box.

I am a rugby ball who gets bolted

back

       and

forth.

I am a B.M.W –

speeding with flaming tyres.

I am a deserted desert

unbearably hot with dead cacti.

I am a fiery dragon with smoked wings,

I have an enormous red collar with my name:

                    David the Outrageous.

I am a loud drum beating like a heartbeat.

When I look in the mirror...


I see a very noisy gorilla staring at me.


THE GUSTAVO  POEM


I’m a huge package with

soccer balls filling me up.

I ‘m a trampoline

people love flipping and jumping on me.

I am a stinky little rat

skidding in the sewer.

I’m a  jungle in Rio de Janeiro

with huge swamp’s everywhere you go.

I’m a hiss of a snake

a bang of a drum.

When I look in the mirror I see

my idol Neymar Jr from Barcelona.


The Bridget E. Poem


Bridget is a leopard

with big black spots

and sharp vampire teeth

running across the dessert.

Bridget is a massive snowy mountain.

At the top it is snowy

at the bottom it has nice green grass

with people

throwing snow balls.

I am singing like a bird with blue spots

 I am dark blue.

I am a dancer wearing a black, red and gold

glittery leotard

and I am the most flexible

in my squad.


THE GEORGE G. POEM


George G. is a brown                                                                                                                                                                                                  
parcel wrapped with

tattery blue cord.



George G. is a small yellow lego

piece in a sea of colourful bricks.

George G. is his own transportation

he is slow, steady and persistent.


George G. is a thick

bushy jungle full of life.

George G. is a magical unicorn

eating somebody’s trash.


George G. is a noisy cicada

which really needs to shut up.


George G. looks in the

mirror and sees himself.


The Madeline Hann poem


Madeline Hann is a brightly wrapped Christmas present

waiting to be received.

Madeline Hann Is a colourful netball

flying into the hoop.

Madeline Hann is a shiny Lamborghini

speeding down a dusty dirt road.

Madeline Hann is a tropical island

with people lazing on her sandy beaches.

Madeline Hann is a speedy cheetah running along a dry

African plain with her eyes on her prey.

Madeline Hann is the soft soothing piano playing

fur Elise in an orchestra.

When she looks in the mirror she sees a sporty

silver fern playing netball.


The Ryan Selinger Poem


I am a brown, ruined letter,

waiting to be recived.

I am a colourful, short robot,

 just about to malfunction.

I am a alarmed ambulance

speeding down the highway saving a wounded citizen.

I am a sweltering desert,

fighting my way through the outrageous conditions.

I am a strong troll, waiting for a stumbling goat to

cross the rock-hard bridge.

I am the high-pitched Orchestra,

 becoming famous and worldwide.

When I look in the mirror, I see a famous soccer player,

holding the World Cup trophy in the air.


THE SACHA WILKIN POEM


Sacha Wilkin is a letter sealed in white envelope at

the bottom of a post bag.

Sacha Wilkin is a teddy bear sitting on a bed

watching the world go by.

Sacha Wilkin is a worn down bus blundering down

the street.

Sacha Wilkin is a lake, kayaks floating across the

water’s surface.

Sacha Wilkin is a tiger wandering through a jungle.

Sacha Wilkin is the sound of a sloshing water fall.

When Sacha Wilkin looks in the mirror she sees an

artist with a paint brush in hand.


The Anna Boulton Poem


Anna is a colourful magazine,

tied with a silver ribbon.

Anna is an aqua blue kite,

soaring through the clouds.

Anna is a rocket ship,

fiery and ready to take off.

Anna is a field of daffodils,

waving in the breeze.

Anna is a snowy leopard,

staring intently into the stream

waiting for trout.

Anna is the roaring of the ocean,

with the occasional dolphin splash.

When I look in the mirror

I see Anna Boulton smiling back.


Makenzy’s  poem


I am a huge package

full of bouncing basketballs

I’m a rugby ball flying

over the rugby post

I’m a black lambhourgini speeding

down the road

I’m a night cheetah who

can sprint as fast

as a Ferrari

I am a skate park

with people grinding

on their scooters and

skate boards

I am a bang of

drum and a roar

of a lion just waking up

In the mirror I see

a rugby star holding

the rugby world cup trophy