In Prep Five we have been learning about personification. Inspired by the 5th November and “Bonfire”, a poem by Jean Kenward, we have written our own poems which personify a fire. We have used adjectives, similes and alliteration to describe fire as a living creature. We hope you enjoy our imaginative creative writing!
Its birth is a little mysterious spark in the ground,
Its vicious voice is roaring like wrapping paper fiercely torn off.
Its eyes glow as it reaches up above the green ground,
Its tongues are sharp as shark’s teeth as it hunts its prey down.
Its appetite is as huge as a gorilla’s and as hungry as a huge hippo.
Its mood is so angry it will tear you apart in seconds or maybe in milliseconds!
It moves like a fierce yellow spirit dancing in the night.
It runs out of food, and I can see it dying down and disappearing into the dark gloomy night into ashes.
Its birth is like a little baby slowly reaching up to the shimmering stars,
Its favourite food is old furniture with some paper and wood,
It’s like a dragon with its smoky breath.
It sounds like a lion roaring at its prey,
The beast is growing higher and higher, stronger and more vicious,
Its hair rising to touch the sky and turning blood red.
It rests on ashes, sounding like popcorn being cooked,
Its eyes stare up at the moon and slowly go to sleep.
Its birth is when a small match is lit,
It starts as a small, helpless hungry creature,
It eats wood, card and paper.
It has golden fur, smoky breath and has an infinite appetite.
The monster makes a roaring sound like a crack and a grind,
It has multiple red tongues and orange spikes that are as bright as the scorching sun,
Its crimson eyes are blood red and shiny like a red ruby.
Its bright wings are giant and moving, but it never flies.
It moves as quickly as a gecko and has gold and white teeth.
It devours anything it is near and can be as big as a house,
Its silver jaws are as deadly as a vicious snake’s fangs,
Its death is when it has no more food and slowly turns into a pile of grey ashes.
The Wild Beast
The birth is short, the birth is rough scrape across the matchbox.
Its loud roaring voice crackles in the deep dark night sky like a ferocious lion,
Its favourite food is wood and old cardboard.
It rises up to the cold infinite void of space and pollutes all the air in its path,
It breathes free and ferociously in the numb black night sky full of white crystal-clear stars.
Some people say when it dies down, the eyes look at you like a cave full of bloodthirsty bats.
It is always in a terrible mood, like an enraged demon.
Gradually it all dies down in a matter of seconds and lies down in its own dull bed of tired ashes.
Its birth is born by the match
It is like a gigantic red shiny eye gazing through the dark shadowy smoke.
It has got three massive long tongues like a big slimy snake slivering and prancing through the dark.
It’s like a proud red and yellow lion roaring through the dark gloomy night.
It’s like popping candy in your mouth fizzing and bursting.
It’s got smoky breath like a dragon and its colour is all of the Autumn colours.
Its mood is like a lion, it tries to pounce on you when you are near
It moves like a snake slithering across the ground.
It dies down slowly there is still some light then it dies, just the ground holding the pile of ashes.