On Wednesday students were asked to complete a writing task called 'Writing The Landscape' using prompts as suggested by Aotearoa New Zealand poet Dinah Hawken in the book 'The Exercise Book' Creative Writing Exercises from Victoria University's Institute of Modern Letters.

Here is the writing of - Eleanor Wong, Sophia Scott and Lucy Macdougall

Time and Time Again

By Eleanor Wong

I.

It’s strange, isn’t it?

how things can change so suddenly, so quickly.

Out my window, there is a sun and a sea;

white foam below clashing with white clouds above;

blue on blue on blue.

And there is the neighbour,

mowing their lawns,

the smell of damp grass mixing with the sea-salt air.

A normal weekend for this street.

But I’ll let you in on a secret:

it’s not a weekend;

it’s a Wednesday,

and I’m writing this for school.

II.

Passing through this street,

nothing is amiss, not a leaf, not a tree, not a pebble

out of place.

But stop for a moment,

to listen.

Do you hear that complete

silence?

There used to be cars and buses,

there used to be you and me and us,

walking down this street every day.

But this road is empty now.

All that is left

are the cats slinking through the shadows,

unseen to the people with their noses pressed

against the window,

their breath making funny shapes on the glass;

remembering

remembering,

what used to be.

III.

Is it always like this? you ask.

No and yes, I reply.

It wasn’t like this before,

but now,

who knows when things will change?

Who knows when things will go back to normal?

But here,

in this little street,

this is our normal, our new normal.

It is hard to get used to this,

but once we’re here,

we can stay forever.

Hidden away in our little houses,

sheltered beneath our roofs and away

from society,

to begin another life.

Time and time again, we will do it,

until we can’t possibly imagine a world

any different from

this.

High Street

By Sophia Scott

I see the empty, serene pathways of High Street. The silence is interrupted by an occasional car driving down the road, roaming, not going anywhere in particular, people just wanting to get out of the house, I suppose. I see birds flying above, blissfully unaware of the organised chaos happening around them. I see the old, tall building just down the road. Quiet as usual, the area around it unmoving. I see the black cat that stares out of the window of the little red and white house.

I remember when I first moved into this street three and a half years ago. I remember being an excited ten-year-old, driving up to my new house. I remember going out onto the street, smelling smoke, and the cold air. I remember winters, frost glittering the concrete paths. I remember going out into my garden on the really cold nights to call my old cat Minnie in before we locked the doors.

I imagine, back out on High Street, the elderly couple is still sitting outside of their house, on their chairs, waving at passing cars and pedestrians. I imagine people continually walking down my street with their light chatter late at night, soothing my anxious mind while trying to drift off to sleep. I imagine the world at peace, and everyone is healthy. I imagine the perfect world.

But all I can do is imagine.

Home

By Lucy Macdougall

I see garden beds filled with naked rose bushes and grape hyacinth bulbs poking out of the ground, I see little yellow daffodils getting ready to bloom to kick off the start of spring, I see tree branches sporting pink baby blossoms waiting to show, I see little dogs chasing their tails in the freshly cut grass, I see sheep littering the hills while grazing in the grass, I see trucks moving along the road at a pace higher than the limit, I see trees swaying in the gentle breeze and florists picking the last of the flowers.

I imagine how this garden will look when spring is in bloom, I imagine cutting the grass on a light summer morning and sneezing every minute you’re outside, I imagine lambs running around bleating to their mothers saying ‘I’m hungry’, I imagine hearing the springs of the trampoline creak as we jump around, I imagine laying on this grass drip drying as the sprinklers continue squirting and I imagine the summer coming to an end.

I remember running around the lawn nude as a child while being chased with a hose, I remember driving the John Deere gator around the lawn ripping up the grass, and skidding on the muddy winter grass while learning to ride the motorbike. I remember ripping up the bricks from the bottom of the sandpit while sporting a wonder woman dress, running to grab the best chair at Christmas brunch, sliding down the hill on a blue tarpaulin, whacking my head on the top of the playhouse while screaming about the cobwebs, and I remember making mud pies while acting like I was on a cooking show. I remember poking the goldfish in the bathtub outside mum's window. Home.