March
26
ELA 20: Metaphor Poems – written in pairs
Let’s see how you did with your poem writing with your partner. Post your poem as a comment and we’ll share them with the class.
Let’s see how you did with your poem writing with your partner. Post your poem as a comment and we’ll share them with the class.
Piano lessons-worse part of my childhood
Prisoner walking into my cell
The warden drills my fingers until their iron
Forcing me to play the same tune
Shackling me to my feelings of contempt
Why would my parents send me to death row?
What did I do to deserve this?
Constantly pleading my case
My prosecutors never sway for a second
Oh, how I hate piano lessons
I’d sit in stony submission
playing only to speed up the time
praying that some miracle
would break this prison of mine
Or steal away my hawk-eyed teacher
who branded these notes in my head
every four error I made meant repeat the whole thing
playing and playing till my fingers were lead
I would beg to my parents’ deaf ears
that they’d please, please set me free
piano lessons were their baby, not mine
maybe someday they’d finally see….
By E. U.
“Can I watch TV?”
My lioness mother would reply, “Is your room clean?”
My elephant steps slammed up the stairs
I bet my mom never had a clean room I muttered under my breath
My piggish clothes get shoved into my closet
My garbage toys get pushed under my bed
I run back down stairs and grab the remote
but, my mother’s dead eyes glare at me
She was never fooled, she would always find
my hiding clothes and my hiding toys
She would then ‘force’ me to put them away
Correctly.
Chores were the worst,
Every day, against our say,
Cleaning bedrooms lived in by pigs,
Washing laundry straight from the barn,
Definitely not our type of fun,
Every day, doing a soldier routine,
scrubbing the dishes licked off by cows,
after being drained from one too any chores,
our elephant feet drag to the next,
until finally they were done!
off the bus, through the door
All I hear is chores, chores, chores
A mountain of dishes to clean,
A tornado of clothes to sort,
The chores never seem to end
The walk to take the garbage out was a marathon,
And by the time I got back, rudolf and I looked alike
I thought I was done, and I sat on the couch,
My parents came in and said “now starts the fun”
As I indicated before, I have infinite chores
Kylee, Ann, and Dale
Swimming Lessons
Sprayed with acid.
The water was an Arctic Ocean mixed with methane and gas.
The sword we were hit with, the one we were bashed.
I could cry, my parents would clap.
My instructor was our navy commander
“He’s a nice teacher” my parents would banter.
The sport ran in my family’s roots.
But my only focus was the leeches stuck to my bathing suit.
I was told I was only going there once,
But my parents were pound owners and we were their mutts!
By Kennedi, Alyssa and Marin
Our new born practice play,
Ready to be made on the field,
Our big game depends on this
The qb gets ready,
Calls “hut” and everyone
Scrambles for their route
The popcorn cheerleaders
Jump up and down while the
Lead heavy ball is thrown
An arrows pass straight to the receiver
The ball hits Dawson in chest and the ball is dropped
The game is over, we all hang our heads
Cause our rooster call practice be tomorrow
By Noel and Dawson