Thursday, 10 March 2016

the rotting man



The dying man sits there
- a brother to the tree.

The dead bush waves
to the dark blue sky

Bones are brittle,
hardened like sticks.

Butterflies flutter around
with their light tissue-paper wings.

Who put this man here?
Did he do it to himself?
Why would you let yourself die?



We have been learning to use ekphrastic writing (writing inspired by art) we have picked a painting and written a story about it. I have been trying to use metaphors by not using like, or as if. My next steps are to use more metaphors.

1 comment:

  1. Good poem I like how you said a brother to the tree it really creates a vivid image

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