LORENZO LIBERA

L azy

O bservant

R eliable

E xcellent

N oisy

Z appy

O utstanding

L imitless

I ntelligent

B rave

E xpert

R esponsible

A ttentive

ANGER

Beaches

eaches are the place for Sunday Relaxation. Miles and miles you can walk, and you will always be

ntirely alone. Beaches are places where you can sunbake peacefully in the

fternoon sun. Long palms lean over the shade providing cool shade for you.

ool waves lap around your ankles as you stroll, listening to the tropical birds flying above you.

igh in the sky, the birds screech and play with each other, flying around and around in circles.

very time you go to the beach, you just land inside a paradise, a paradise of

urfing on beautiful waves, until the afternoon sun engulfs you.

B

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A

C

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Environmental Poem

Without nature, the circle of life is destroyed like a person being scorched by a flamethrower

The world without nature is a plant without water,

Luscious, lovely, limitless trees droop lazily over the hidden path

Ancient Trees decades old stand alone in the forest, dreading the moment humans will come,

dreading the moment death will come,

The time humanity has been dreading is close by,

Every single minute, plastic bottles beat up nature as they are thrown into the churning ocean,

The world will be filled with death, pain, misery and plastic oceans,

Crows will fly above the wastelands, shrieking with delight at the smell of fresh blood,

Why do humans have to use such crude methods of storing food and drinks,

Humans are the pinnacle of creation, but at the same time, the destroyers of creation,

Nature is beauty itself at its best look,

The rustle of miniature creatures crawling over the leafy ground,

Sparkling, glittering waterfalls splash down the rocky mountain,

Why would you want to destroy all this?

Haiku Poems

People skiing down

the mountain, flurries of snow

reveal paradise.

Trees dance in the cool

afternoon breeze, waltzing with

the majestic wind.

Droplets of water

explode on the surface of

the great gleaming lake.

The Limerick:

There once was a boy called Bob,

He liked to work on his job,

But when he grew tired,

He said he was hired,

And he threw away his contract with a lob.

Gruesome Ghostly Graveyard

Howling werewolves are heard in the distance,

Sending a chilling wave of Goosebumps up my spine,

Rustling leaves reveal a hidden midnight black cat stalking along the fence,

Like a stealthy as a ninja at midnight,

A cackling witch flies above, she is a demon,

Spine-chilling, Screaming Skeletons scurry along the ancient path,

A kid run’s out of a shed as fast as a cheetah,

Blood streaming down his bloody, smashed face,

The reeking stench of rotting corpses lingers in the air,

Tasting my own sweat, a growling, grunting, gargoyle run’s in front of me,

Scaring me to death,

Leaves batter my face as I trip on a slimy slippery stone,

I feel death crawling towards me, lurking in the dark, ready to pounce

I will put it in the box

Snowy mountains, and kilometre deep crevasses,

Flurries of snow, suggest people skiing down the mountain,

Snow trolls chase the winter birds, gleaming emeralds shining in their eye sockets.

I will put it in the box

Wishes of the dead, wishes of the living, flow around in a tornado of reality,

Gruesome battles, rage in the plains, fighting for their rights, fighting for their beliefs,

Swords and spears clash, as mental and physical blood is spilled.

I will out it in the box

Winter and Hail, summer and sweat, mixed together in a soup of seasons,

Snowballs and snowmen, weep tears as summer approaches like a dragon striking prey,

Though kids don’t let their fun falter, they throw the snowballs faster than ever.

Gentle paddle strokes break the surface of the water, but it continues, unperturbed by the interruption,

The trees rustle with anger, angry that someone could come and supersede their authority,

Days flow past in hazy dreams as the extensive elegant canoes continue along the river.

I will put it in the box

Glow of peaceful rapture emanates from the birds, flying high in the sky,

The wind pauses, as if to gather its thoughts, and continues, blowing the birds slightly of course,

Thunder rumbles and the birds fall to the ground, The blood of the memories still flows freely on the ground.

I will put it in the box

The box is made of diamond and steel, emeralds and jewels, gold and rubies,

Smelted together in a beautiful box of magic and dreams,

You can put anything you want in this box, may it be mental, or physical.

POETIC

TECHNIQUES

Simile:

The boy ran like a

Lamborghini in the global

titles.

Metaphor:

The blank page is

an adventure yet

to be explored

Alliteration:

Bold Brad battled

the boring baby

boy because it bit

Ben.

Personification

The sword danced around the

knight, blocking and parrying

blows as it tickled the enemy’s

neck.

Hyperbole:

The turtle walked as

slow as a

microorganism

Onomatopoeia:

The rain pitter pattered on the

screeching car as it tried to

brake before a crunch

explained it’s end.