Christchurch

Christchurch is my home.

Beside me

branches 

sway in the cool wind 

Left-right-left-right.

Behind me 

dew 

drips,

from the big oaks, 

landing on top

of the neighbors roof.

On the road,

a car's 

exhaust pipe 

pumps out dust,

from behind, 

polluting

the fresh air. 

I reach out in front of me,

and touch the

moist

wood of the fence. 

The otakaro

river runs

through Christchurch,

-  cold and wet.

At the beach,

my brother and I 

dive

into the waves,

on a hot summer's day

the water is brisk.

Christchurch is my home.

By Casper 

Rabbit

The rabbit is a statue,

glaring intently with locked eyes,

staring with a confused look, as he waits. 

The natural instinct of stay or run weighs him down.

The grass is a dancer,

 swaying in the never ending routine of back and forward.

The sky is an octopus, 

changing from brilliant blue to a dark grey color, 

Why is everything in grey?

What is the rabbit thinking?

What does he see through his eyes?

Reflection.

I think that I'm on multistructural for my ekfrastic poem because I can share examples of metaphor that apply to the poem, eg.

-The grass is a dancer, swaying in the never ending routine of  back and forward.

-The rabbit is a statue, glaring intently with locked eyes.

-The sky is an octopus, changing from a brilliant blue to a dark grey color.