My digital Mihi

Place Poem

WALT: Use our senses to write a poem about a special place.

Mahia

See the sun melting slowly like a giant ball of cheese on the horizon.

Hear the silent wind pulling your hair, telling you its secrets.

Feel the sand crunching softly under your feet.

Smell the salt.

Taste it on your tongue.

Mahia is like that.

See the octopus, looking up at you from the rockpool.

Hear the waves sloshing lazily in the channel, knowing in the back of your mind that the tide is coming in.

Gasp as the cold water from the deepest pool envelopes you.

Smell the sweet scent of pohutukawa as your tall uncle gives you a flower.

Mahia is like that.

See the old wisened faces of your tipuna, smiling at you.

Hear them laughing at your silly jokes, young again.

Feel the tiredness creep in, like the mosquitoes, through the open door.

Smell the thick aroma of cheese and bread.

Curl your lips around the glass and sip at the vermilion wine.                                             

Mahia is like that.

See the barefoot people milling around, careless of what they wear.

Hear the low, tired murmurs of a hot day.

Feel sweat trickling slowly down your forehead.

Sniff the air for the brilliant smell of orange and chocolate chip.

Lick your ice-cream and melt in bliss.

Mahia is like that.

See the sun waking up and climbing over the hill.

Hear the quiet clink of sad knives cutting up toast.

Feel the instant, almost strange, change in atmosphere.

Smell the last smells and climb into the car.

Taste the lump in your throat.

Feel the never-boredom become boredom once more.

Leaving Mahia is like that.

Quirky Quick Writes

WALT: Use our imaginations to write on a variety of topics for 5 to 10 minutes.

12th Feb 2016

Stella-Rosa was a sandwhich. She was caring, soft and had a heart as red as a tomato. She had meaty brains in her bread, and was covered in a thick skin of mayonaise (so she didn’t get bullied). I was always hungry after her lettuce-green dress, which trailed around her pale, bready legs. She was a beautiful sandwhich. Until she got eaten.

18th Feb

“Aw, mum, why do we have to go to Pizza hut?” I whined, “you know I hate their pizza! Why can’t we go somewhere cool, like Poopie’s Pizza where we get a free chocolate bar?”

25th Feb               50 words

Twisting gracefully in that plasticy orange dress,

Her round body looking light, beautiful for once.

I look down at her and smile at that almost vermilion lipstick,

And think: my, what a pretty one you are.

Then slowly, slowly, I peel off that beautiful coat and bite into -

My orange!

Hope you enjoyed the Quick Writes!