Poetry is definitely one of those “I hate writing, but love having written” things. Year 7 and 8 Rutherford have been writing much poetry over the last few weeks and it is often HARD. It requires a great deal of use of high order thinking skills and just some plain old grit. It involves learning rules and following instructions, so that you can then break those rules and ignore the instructions.
Poems are long
poems are boring
I’d rather be in bed
Poems take thinking
I can’t do them without blinking
Slowly I think my mind is
Poems are words
Poems are absurd
Poems make me feel like a nerd
Poems are a voice
Poems make people rejoice
I only writ this because I had no choice
After Retirement – a sonnet
With flowery walls and scuffed up floors
old quotes pasted across billboards
Deafening TV’s heard through closed doors
Mixed with scratchy sounds of old records
Another dazed and weary looking face.
Exactly eight cats wander the site
The odd, young, looking out of place,
trying to bring warmth to this in spite
of the confused stares and drifting eyes.
A few more lost socks, a faded shirt
waiting as another floats up to the sky
Nods of acknowledgement, so polite and curt.
No-one should ever have to reach this stage
but everyone does after middle age
I walk through the wasteland
This is where I thrive
I see an old hand
This is where he died
A shot came out of nowhere
followed by a grenade
my flesh begins to tear
I need first aid
I’m limping back to base
trying to escape
but they won’t give up their chase
I’m nearly there..so close..
WHAT F****** BULLS*** HACKER?
SCREW THIS GAME!