Metophorical Poetry

This work was written by students from The Heights School Year 8 Ignite Class

MY ROOM

My room is a junk heap, with the junk monster presiding over my room, my floor barely visible through the junk. My desk now invisible as the junk piles up. The dust bunnies own my window now and the dust increases even more. If I were to add just one more book to my sagging shelf, it would surely fall and crush my to death. My shears made of flowers, is a very holey thing. When the lights go out the ghost comes out, the glowing light we all see. It flits around the room and comes to rest on me, its master. Then morning comes, the ghost is gone, and the junk magically reappears. Everyday the junk grows higher as the junk monster brings more in. I need a knight to come and slay the dreaded junk monster for me. Then he must slay he dust bunnies and give me back my room.

The World Today

People all around

Nobody caring, busy as bees

A non-stop race track

My Room

A black hole, sucking

Things enter, never leave

Except me, safe

Other People

My mind is a maze of doors
Which I continuously try to open,
To see who else is in this maze
That can help me find my way through,
But I fail each and every time
No matter how hard I try or wish.

It seems I am to find
My way out alone,
With only my heart
To guide me through

My Mind

My mind is a giant factory with never ending storage space. Smoking chimneys on the roof rapidly sending out ideas.

The creativity department is working overtime. Dispensing creativity as there is no tomorrow.

The speech delivery section of tilkas great big company has doubled up on vans. Delivering out sentences that are usually grand.

Up in the theatre they show some movements that can be quite great, they are then sent out to the chute on tape.

Then of course my evil, confusing the rest of my mind. This side is my opponent trying to put me out of business. It mixes up my speech and fixes in some lies. Trying to break the satellites hopefully he’ll go out of business.

The space of my own earth my mind.

My Mind

My mind is a maze
I can’t work it out,
Running into dead ends
So many new doubts

Turning a corner
I see a dim light,
Of a fading memory
I clutch at it tight.

I’m so confused
When will I know,
There’s so many options
Which way do I go?

The maze is so big
The walls are so high
I think I’ll be in here
Until I die.

My Room

My room, my room a wasteland,
where none, dare to roam.
One wrong move and that’s the end
And where only I like to call home.

The wasteland isn’t that big,
but it makes up for that in many ways.
this place where the brave don’t enter
and the strong don’t roam.

Furniture is in there,
it’s a brown, blurry haze,
with junk in every corner
even things from the stone age.

My room, my room a wasteland,
where only I dare roam.

My Room

My room is a junk heap, with the junk monster
presiding over my room, my floor barely visible
through the junk. My desk now invisible as the junk
piles up. The dust bunnies own my window now
and the dust increases even more. If I were to add
just one more book to my sagging shelf, it would
surely fall and crush me to death. My shears made
of flowers, is a very holey thing. When the light go
out the ghost comes out, the glowing light we all
see. It flits around the room and comes to rest on
me, its master. The morning comes, the ghost is
gone, and the junk magically reappears. Everyday
the junk grows higher as the junk monster brings
more in. I need a knight to come and slay the
dreaded junk monster for me. Then he must slay the
dust bunnies and give me back my room.

The world of today is but a book,
Open at the middle for everyone to look.
But God himself keeps it away,
Because the Devil always wants to have his say.

REFRAIN
But one day, God may throw the book away.
One day, God may throw the book away.
One day, God may throw the book away,
Into the fire – into the fire.

The world of today is but a novel,
That God still writes today, His pen never wobbles.
Whatever He writes happens down on Earth.
That’s how much our God is worth.

REFRAIN
But one day, God may throw the book away.
One day, God may throw the book away.
One day, God may throw the book away,
Into the fire – into the fire.

And when He does, we will all go up,
To heaven with Him, for He will welcome us,
To his house where we will go.
Have faith, my boy; it’s a long way to go

REFRAIN
But one day, God may throw the book away.
One day, God may throw the book away.
One day, God may throw the book away,
Into the fire – into the fire.

For when He does, we will go away,
To live with Him, up and away,
The day, God may throw the book away
Into the fire – into the fire.

Posted at November 4, 2005 01:38 PM