Tag Archives | Seething and Mundham Primary School

Season Haiku’s

Winter

This morning ,the moon

is a ghostly thumbprint

on a frosted window.

 

Spring 

Flowers growing on,

shivering green trees

getting ready for summer.

 

Summer

Fish jumping by you

at the river side,

dive in cool water.

 

Autumn

Bonfires crackling,

toffy apples in your mouth,

yum yum in your tum

Season Haiku’s

Winter

This morning ,the moon

is a ghostly thumbprint

on a frosted window.

 

Spring 

Flowers growing on,

shivering green trees

getting ready for summer.

 

Summer

Fish jumping by you

at the river side,

dive in cool water.

 

Autumn

Bonfires crackling,

toffy apples in your mouth,

yum yum in your tum

Season Haiku’s

Winter

This morning ,the moon

is a ghostly thumbprint

on a frosted window.

 

Spring 

Flowers growing on,

shivering green trees

getting ready for summer.

 

Summer

Fish jumping by you

at the river side,

dive in cool water.

 

Autumn

Bonfires crackling,

toffy apples in your mouth,

yum yum in your tum

The Spitfire

The stunning Spitfire swiftly whirring over the land

screaming silent curses after battle.

 

The guns spray the bullets,

the whispers of death.

 

The propellers, powerful like a

tunnel-boring machine under ground.

 

The prodigious wings keeping

the spitfire airborne.

 

The spitfire glides flawlessly

into the unknown.

 

The wild wings slicing the air.

 

The killer propeller blades chop

aggressively at the night sky.

 

The rusted exhaust pipes spits smoke,

polluting the clean air.

 

The swift, agile spitfire glides

like an owl in the moonlight.

The invisible, tremendous propeller

blades whirring swiftly through the air.

 

The minuscule rear wheel assisting takeoff

and landing a loyal friend.

 

The black exhaust pipes leaving

a trail of smoke wherever it goes.

 

What are you?

You are a gold spot-light,

shining down on the earth.

 

You are the smell of a mouth watering shortbread biscuit,

fresh out of the oven.

 

You are as soothing as a violin

playing a sad song.

 

You are a ray of sunshine

captured in my pocket.

 

You are the sound of a hedgehog rustling,

in the beautiful autumn leaves.

 

You are the breeze that rustles in the leaves,

like a bag of crisps.

What are you?

You are a magical balloon,

bobbing through the candy-floss filled sky.

 

You are a posh poodle

sleeping peacefully.

 

You are a frisbee,

spinning pirouettes above the scorching sun.

 

You are a steak knife,

piercing through a slice of beef.

 

You are a Welsh Dragon,

as red a Snow White’s blood.

 

You are a Siberian tiger,

as rare as a rutted ruby.

 

You are a sloth ,

sitting in a sunburnt sloe tree.

 

You are a squirrel,

scampering through the saddening snow.

What are you?

You are a meaningful rescue dog

that brought me a lifetime of happiness.

 

You are the sun, shining on Emma’s spanner

like a holographic pencil case.

 

You are the rainbow end

waiting for someone to dig up its gold.

 

You are the smell of a Kiwi

hidden in a teacher’s pocket.

 

You are the Bengal cat

that owns the sofa

whether you like it or not.

 

You are the forgotten wish

that didn’t come on my birthday.

 

You are the forgotten wish

that didn’t come on my birthday.

 

You are the memory

of my childhood,

that haunts me most.

 

You are the beginning, middle and end.

What are you?

You are the anger,

of a match lighting the fire.

 

You are the fire of the chilli,

dancing rapidly in your mouth.

 

You are the happiness

dancing in the field.

 

You are the fiery heat,

of a sun flying through the whistling air.

 

You are the tallest tree,

in heaven towering over the universe.

 

You are the touch of a silky feather,

floating down from heaven.

 

You are the smell of a a lavender bush,

sprinkled over you like star dust.

What are you?

You are a perfect peach

like a frozen flame in the warm sunlight.

 

You are the impossibility of burning frost,

a silent radio, a perfect world.

 

You are the albino glare,

of the romantic moonlight.

 

You are a furious rouge bulldog,

bounding down Berry Cross.

What are you?

You are the shining spitting sun,

glowing above an anxious alpaca.

 

You are a loved lost glove ,

waiting to be found in the hot white snow.

 

You are a frog

jumping like jelly.

 

You are the sound of an eagle,

squawking above its food.

 

You are a lion’s tooth,

waiting to eat the food.

 

You are the smell of a roast dinner,

on a cold Christmas Day.

 

You are June with a burnt neck,

beach vibes and ocean dancing in your bold blue eyes.

 

You are a fruit cake the taste of juicy apples,

soft smooth peaches saturated oranges and vanilla icing.