For the summer unit, we looked at Imagery and Figurative language. We worked on breaking down a poem by Robert Louis Stevenson, called Summer Sun. It told the story using personification, as the poet was portraying the sun as the Earth’s gardener. We also created our own shape poems about things that remind us of summer.

For Autumn, we worked on our Pacing Techniques for our poems. We were lucky enough to eat an Anzac biscuit, and we had to describe how it tasted, smelt, felt, looked and sounded. We also deciphered the poem When the Leaves Came Down by Susan Coolidge. It personifies a tree that loses its leaves in autumn, almost like the tree is father, and the leaves are his children.

Winter was First Frost by Andrei Voznesensky. It tells a story about a girl who is dealing with a break-up for the first time, and ‘first frost’ is  a metaphor for her heartbreak. Her desolation is reflected in the cold Russian winter. 

For Spring, we looked at sound devices. We covered onomatopoeia, assonance, alliteration and rhyme, through such poems as Spring by Gerald Manly Hopkins and Morning Has Broken by Cat Stevens. We spent time in the Yandel’ora garden, where we were inspired by spring’s sights and sounds. The lake, flowers, insects, and birdlife made Yande’lora the perfect setting for reflection on this theme.

Please enjoy these sample Spring poems by Year 7 students:

Each Tiny Pebble by Eliza F.

Guiding you to the blissful butterflies
passing by,
all the purple petals,
while watching the birds fly above
the tall trees 

with the glistening, golden lake
shining in the sun,
Koi fish swimming about,
through the warm water
allowing you to forget the world around you.

as a gentle breeze,
softly touches my neck,
as I gaze at the nature surrounding me.

watching each tree shed 
a piece of bark 
as if it's ready to start
its journey again 

A Thousand Wishes by Holly B.

Spider webs threaded like tight wool,
As bright yellow flowers smile at me.
Butterflies flutter through thick, damp air,
Icy cold leaves hang off a thin, skinny tree.

The sound of crunchy pebbles echo,
Swampy, brown water spills and swishes,
As vivid, beaming fish merk underneath.
Large trees tower over me, a thousand wishes.

The Story of Spring by Diadem A.

The story of spring
starts with the wind
she does a little twirl
and starts to sing.

Her journey she makes,
The stories she tells.
Breathing lives into the lakes,
Watching them awake.

The sun glistens upon the water
Although not crystal, still filled with beauty and love.
Just like the relationship between father and daughter.

The lake becomes the stage,
As little leaflets, its little performers.
Droplets of rain break from their cage,
As the orchestra of glows in waters of sage.

The bright glow of orange, red, yellow
Can be seen very faint.
But if you take a moment to see their glow.
You might just smile; their beauty really shows.

The applause from the performance, comes soft and faint,
But if you listen closer you can hear the delicate conversations,
Of the tree, quite quaint.
So heavenly, almost like saints.

As the story comes along,
She hears the conversations of the trees.
They talk about the world so strong,
And how they see everything close and beyond.

Looking closer towards the little things.
The little creatures,
So detailed, what nature brings
From the webs to the wings.

A web full of shapes,
A spider creates his home.
Each thread so intricate so detailed,
But the wind teases causing it to fly like a cape.

Following the thin white string
Leads you to the veins of the leaves.
Each detail, spread out like wings,
Makes you think to appreciate the small things.

Whilst still there in the silence of day,
The leaves and world around you
Seems the sway.
Under a spell, with a soft haze.

Although the colours of boring green
Are all the naked eye can envision,
The eyes of a mesmerised beholder can see,
The little colours unseen.

Look a little deeper,
Let your eyes focus
And colours will reveal,
Of red, gold, white, teal.

Each shape fat, long, short
Small, large, sharp,
Some even soft.
Soldiers and dancers.

An orchestra of crickets everywhere
It takes some time but
satisfying sound unclear.
But so calming, so fair.

The story comes to an end as the evening sun shuts their eyes
Before the night comes
You run around the fields of grass, so light
You might
just
get
lost.
And forget all time.

Laura Bryant - Teacher