Chelsea Primary School write magnificent poems — I am in love with them!

My four days at Chelsea Primary School are up which means it’s time to get ready for the Auckland Writer’s Festival and get back to my own writing. I am not doing so many school visits this year so when I do it is special.

The School chose a theme: Our Place

We spent four days exploring that theme and poetry techniques. Today we  hunted for words, made up lines very playfully, then produced picture poems.



Here are just a very few poems from the week:


From Years 1 and 2


Clouds Breezing

The clouds slowly breezing around

the sky, the sun shining

above the sky,

the clouds puff out moving

around. I see them everyday.




From Years 3 and 4


The View

The harbour

bridge reminds

me of

a rocking




The Sea

The sea is rumbling

the cicadas are

loud, the

trees are as

still as a


the sand

is gold

and the sea is

blue, the waves

are slow, the

sun is bright.

We splash

and explore.



The Bush

In the bush

the kingfisher sits on its branch

looking inside.

Lime trees full of limes.

The trees waving their

branches full of shiny




The Sugar Refinery

The great big

sugar refinery

has a pond

with graceful

swans gliding

over the stinky

slimy water.

Massive container


slowly coming in.

The chirps

of birds flying

through the air

and the noise

of machines

clanking away.



Years 5 and 6


The Bush

The big black bossy

tui glides over the

big oak trees drinking

water from the

baby blue river.

Small acorns litter

the emerald grass.

Sparrows perch on

big oak trees twittering

away, making music.

Big dogs chase

the birds across the

waterfall. The green oak

becomes nature’s jungle gym

for bouncy little kids, while

Grandad picks juicy apples

from the towering tree.



Silent Street

Felines patrolling the stony


The sweet smell of

sugar wafts around.

Pigeons nesting in craggly

trees lining the houses.

The slight slope slants,

the houses in rows.

The harbour bridge is

flickering in darkness.

Quietly revving engines

on the bridge.

Silent waves crashing into

unseen shores.

Neon signs flickering on

overlooming buildings.

Sounds of sleep wash

around the empty street.

All is too quiet.

Not one light on.



My Special Place

The rustling leaves

crunch beneath

my feet

as I


through the

silent, dark bush.

The stream rushes

through the bush.

Colourful leaves glide

past as I


Trees sway

to the beat

of the wind.

Ants scuttle like

brave soldiers

as they march





photo 1 photo 3 photo 3 photo 1  photo 2

photo 2






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