What do I see at French Farm?
chillin’ with the geese,
not even caring if they step in the sheep poop.
swaying like colossal green butterflies
in the swooping wind.
gosh, all the way up here it looks like it's doing nothing!
But I know it's drowning the salty sand as it crashes onto the beach.
‘busy’ being the world’s most popular colour.
Down the hill;
slipping and sliding dry dirt and grass,
pine trees dotted here and there.
standing there like a stale cookie,
the lichen looks like mould.
casting light around the world
(or at least half the world anyway.)
casting shadows over the farm on the other side of the road.
In my head I hear French Farm sniggering. Ha ha!
looping and swooping like a big,
grey snake, towards the beach.
I can't see her, but I can hear her loud scream of joy echoing through the valley.
Yup, that's how loud she is.
I smell dinner. I don't know what it is, but it smells nice!
After all, it is Christmas Day...
I'm learning to use these ‘;’ and I'm practicing making EVERYTHING I write have some humour in it. I'm learning to use personification. My favourite part of personification was ‘trees, swaying like colossal green butterflies’. Not because I like butterflies. I like imagining giant, creepy green butterflies killing every being in its path and taking over the universe.
I am going great because I really like helping my literacy buddy Ruby. She is AWESOME! I think my writing is multistructural because I put multiple ideas in the poem.