Roses are red, violets are blue. I hate violets but don’t hate you because you are a big big big big big big big big big pretty flower that smells very nice and makes you melt like ice. You are so special. You make me feel like I didn’t have to waste my time writing an eight-line metaphor poem on love. You aren’t as boring as an eight line poem on love. No. You are my graceful little bird hovering in the sky. I know our love will never die.


Aidan Malone, Year Nine.


My Simile Poem

My brother disabled like a fish with no fin.

My uncle moved to warmer places like a bird during winter.

My sister left and went about like a travelling salesman at the door.

My aunt with hair as black as the ink from my pen 

David Savage, Year Nine




At a Small

Hole at the

Bottom of the


Lives a fat old man and a

Skinny old cat called Jack.

This fat old man was quite

Mad; he used to be in the

Army and he fancies himself

A general: he walk, talks and

Acts like one bossing invisible

Soldiers about. Now Jack

Is a smart old

Cat quick, slick

And sly, he’s

A fox in the

Cat world: a

Master Hunter.

He keeps the old

Man comfortable

And cleans the House

Of mice. I think

He actually listens

To the orders the

Man gives to him.

What a pair

The old man a general. Or Jack, a fox in the cat world.


Paul Taylor, Year Nine


A PDF version of these poems are available by clicking here.