by Hobsonville School Office

What Can You See?

Arjun G., Danya K. Raima A.October 28, 2021

Year 7/8 students were asked to find a view from one of their windows and sketch what they see. Using figurative language they described the scenery by placing their reader right in the midst of the view.

My Backyard
At first glance I notice the bright green freshly cut grass, and the steel shed that has been resting in its place for years. I see a huge bush with big chunky yellow lemons dangling from little twigs ready to be used. Like two guards standing tall at the back of the garden are the huge anemia tree with their top trimmed off like if it got hit by lightning. Next to the raggedy brown storage is a majestic apple tree leaning over the grass like it's about to tumble, its little leaves flourish at the ends of its twigs waiting for the right season for its sweet juicy apple to grow. The feijoa trees block the nasty, scody fence that's been conquered by the vines so no one can see the fences and its miserable soul. These are the last survivors of the endless battles with extreme weather, and as new soldiers are planted daily we must honor these soldiers for their hard work they have put in to make the backyard look beautiful.  Arjun G. Y8, H26

Through my Pane of Glass
Through my pane of glass there’s a picturesque but trite view. A harbour with churning grey waters and a strip of marshland that claims the center. A lackluster city crammed with towers and skyscrapers. And beside that rolling hills and lands lay peppered with tiny buildings. Clouds roam above the city; not soft like cotton candy, instead burdened with a threat of rain and storm.

On my side of the shore many houses stand buried in greenery - the effect of untamed trees and bushes growing rapidly. The winding street twists, turns and tumbles downward until it disappears around a bend.

Through my pane of glass there’s a monotonous and predictable view. It’s dull but I could still stare at it for hours on end.
Danya K. Y8, H26

The Throne
All life in this garden has died and regrown as the years have passed - the bushes, the flowers, the weeds- all but you…

You sit there on your throne looking the same as ever. Flowers bow in your presence and the bushes don’t dare to move an inch.

Your leaves dance elegantly in the wind. Meanwhile your trunk is sharp and bold, littered with marks and wrinkles- bearing all those memories you hold. Although your appearance is so mighty and so bold there is a wisp of sadness. So tell me what is it like to watch the world go by as all your loved ones die one by one, nevertheless you're still here all alone? Raima A.  Y8, H26

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