Matrix Moments

Media Moments: Question, reflect, connect

Walk the Plank

The clear blue sky had no hint of the blackness I would discover later as I clambered down the rocky path from the cliff-top to Pirate’s Bay in Dunedin. Behind me, my brother and sister had struggled to keep up and my parents who carried a picnic basket. On the beach and behind tussock covered sand-dunes were bunches of other families already enjoying the waves and sun drenched sand.
We unpacked our basket, spread out the rug and Mum and Dad started getting lunch ready. My brother and I grabbed our new inflatable beach-ball and eagerly ran over the last of the dunes onto the beach.
We started our epic brother battle with a game of force-back. We each tried to throw over the top of the other so they were forced back until they either stepped back too far or we were able to throw the ball past a certain point. As always I had the upper hand, maybe something to do with being older!
Suddenly, as I threw the light multicoloured ball, the wind picked it up and the next second on inflatable ball was floating in the gentle shore waves.
“Go and get it.” Graeme yelled at me.
I replied with a casual, “No. I threw, you fetch.”
“It wasn’t fair,” he moaned, referring to the wind.
“Just ‘cause I’m winning, you have to get it.” I countered.
Meanwhile the ball, delighted at its new found freedom and assisted by its friends the waves and wind, took an escape route to the sea.
“Get it,” I yelled at him, “before it gets out too far.” I was getting nervous as I was supposed to be the responsible older brother. He just refused and so I decided I better get our new ball back.
I shot down to the sea edge, splashed over the shallow waves and up to my knees. I pushed through the growing waves towards the ball. I remember thinking that I wasn’t too far from it when I found out a nasty surprise. The sand was no longer under my feet. The bottom was gone. The beach suddenly shelved into deeper water and down I plummeted.
I can still feel the panic that gripped me, the bands of pressure that started to burn in my lungs as I tried to claw my way back to the surface. Maybe the lady had seen me go under or saw my hand briefly break the surface but she stopped what she was doing and plunged in without hesitating to save me. She too discovered to her cost that the beach shelved and that this is not very good when you can’t swim, just like me.
I remember looking up through the sun beams in the water and thinking the top was too far away. Bubbles from my lungs were flowing up. It was a weird peaceful yet panicking feeling, a sweet and sour nightmare.
Unexpectedly, a strong hand seized my arm and I was first pulled from the water and then into the safe arms of a man. I don’t really remember him carrying me back to the beach, I do remember retching and throwing up seawater onto the beach as concerned people stood around. I can’t even say if I thanked them for helping me but I do have a vague memory of the lady, they pulled out with me, lying nearby.
My brother helped me on my wobbly legs back towards the dunes where Mum and Dad were and we were not at the beach much longer that day.
Someone must have told them what happened because not long after we had a whole series of swimming lessons. The bigger mystery is what happened to the ball. I like to imagine that it washed up on a beach in Japan somewhere or got pierced by a narwhale but then I have been told I am a bit of a dreamer. Certainly, I had some dreams about water surrounding and bullying me for quite a while.

Success Criteria for this recount: Follow recount form, use five senses, improve words with thesaurus and use similes.

Couch Potatoe

Excuse my squashed writing
For I am writing this poem
From inside a couch,
Just yesterday, I fell asleep in the sun
Streaming hot through the window
And I slipped through the cushion gap
To join the lost coins, gathered dust
and dried food crumbs.
I hear the outside world
muffled by leather and foam
I'm interior, you're exterior
I hope you can read this note I slipped out.
For I'm squish writing this poem
From inside a couch.

We read, "It's Dark in Here" a poem by Shel Silverstein to inspire us in our "point of view" poetry.... The boys followed this model closely and then with larger variations as they produced two pieces to reflect how writers have a point of view. The montages were produced with creative commons images using layering, masking and montage techniques with Pages on their macBooks.

WALT:
To communicate experiences, with descriptive language, so that others can feel they are there.

Success Criteria:
  • Write about the topic from different points-of-view
  • To write in a poetry style that has been given.
  • Focus on strong adjectives
  • Use commas to set the rhythm of the poem
  • Short interesting thoughts, one per line
  • Unnecessary and small words cut out.
  • To design a montage to match your poem using layering, masking and alpha tools.

Stolen Security

Once I eternally slept
nightmare tossing,
dark traps sprung,
death tonnes of pyramid granite
fell on tunnelling robbers.

I silently laughed
but they relentlessly came
for my riches.

I am
Mighty Pharaoh
Army surrounding,
protecting me,
Servants entombed alongside
ready for my royal decree.

As robbers break
last barriers
I command;
Disconnected
Failed
None responds
My wealth plundered with
pitch tar torches
and scrabbling fingers,
Even my face
lifted in triumph
Gone...
Stolen security.

Dreams now
wrapped
dry warmth again,
Sensing walls once more
Prying touching fingers,
Unknown words
painted on walls around,
crude, not like the picture words
that gracefully adorn my bandages,
A tomb solid
but disgracefully invisible
like an empty soul window,
They tap on my walls
but so close to touching me
they turn back.
I laugh,
The God's smile.

I am stolen
yet slumber in hushed security.
This was written following a visit to an Ancient Egyptians exhibition in a museum. We looked at the sarcophagus with an x-ray beside it of the ancient mummy.

WALT:
To communicate experiences, with descriptive language, so that others can feel they are there.

Success Criteria:
  • Write about the topic from different points-of-view
  • Focus on strong adjectives
  • Use a wide range of contrasts in the poem
  • Use commas to set the rhythm of the poem
  • Short interesting thoughts, one per line
  • Unnecessary and small words cut out.

Light my Life

Dapples
flicker leaf sheets
wind blown branches
dance shadows on the grass

Torch
reflecting light on words
book hidden under
the sheet with me
reading
late night
parents asleep

Darkness
stolen centimetre
by centimetre
Sunrise.

Hot sun
through Sunday afternoon window
Head nodding
eyes drooping
warm sleep.
WALT:
To communicate experiences, with descriptive language, so that others can feel they are there.

Success Criteria:
  • Write about the topic from different points-of-view
  • Focus on strong adjectives
  • Use a wide range of contrasts in the poem
  • Use commas to set the rhythm of the poem
  • Short interesting thoughts, one per line
  • Unnecessary and small words cut out.

Bush Fringe

Written 2013. Living Springs Camping site. Christchurch. Love our bush close to cities. High Resolution Version

Owl Perched

At the Corner 
Owl perched 
sitting 
seeing 
colour confusions of life, 
Accommodating all moods 
Hello dashed off letter 
Slow treacherous fog 
slander 
Bright spring 
chat 
Dark ocean 
considerations 
connected sentences 
facebook phrases 
Rose distilled 
hearttalks,
Collecting human lives 
of constructs and refuse 
Future Dreams 
Past memories.

Prompt
Watching life, seeing under the surface.
Poem Tags
#dreams, #life, #memories, #owl, #poem, #poetry, #reallife, #seeker, #spokenword, #watching
Watching life, seeing under the surface. Spoken Word Video Poetry

Litter Life

Birth,
Milling papers
frowning
sharing puddles
skipping
across road
jostling
in refuse bin,
wrapping
football crowd legs,
Some dirt travelled
others new to game
learning to resist wind
clinging to
buildings
gnarled trees
posts,
Human kindness
has bourne this litter.

Falling Apart

Almost an empty street
end of day dark
creeping across sky,
couldn’t wait to get home,
"I’m tired,"
I had just thought
when a stranger
or was it life
walked straight into me
and I fell
apart
separated bones
and sinews
disjointed body
rolling, scattered 
by gravity forces
across grass verge
bouncing into gutter
but in law-abiding attention
to road rules for
some macabre reason,
nothing bounced 
onto the road.
The collapse skittered
to a piecemeal stop
but when I tried to 
get up
I couldn’t find one leg.

So I just lay
in pieces,
grinning from the pavement
enjoying
the spaced out feeling.

Poem Tags
#spoken-word, #poetry #seeker, #spaced-out, #pieces, #falling-apart, #tiredness


Prompt
Ever feel liking you're falling apart, what would happen if it really occurred?
Ever feel like life is falling apart?

Autumn

Autumn cries
falling tears,
soft comfort
for hardening ground,
Autumn sheds
colourful clothes
laying them gently
on accepting soil,
Autumn sings
a summer lament
of wind whistles
through half naked trees,
Autumn plays with
avid admirers
jumping through leaf piles,
Autumn shivers
sensing the on-massing
change within
black winter clouds

and the last leaf falls.

Prompt
Exploring our five senses and Seasons in Autumn theme. Poetry for children, pupils, schools.
Poem Tags
#autumn, #children, #colours, #communication, #kids, #literacy, #media, #poems, #poetry, #resources, #schools, #seasons, #senses, #spokenword, #themes, #videos
autumn_children_pupils_school_poetry_resources_sea
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