We have been looking at how we can use facial features to portray a character’s feelings. We read a few poetry examples, shared our thoughts and opinions on them, analysed the features, created a tool kit and then listed a bank of ideas so we could practise writing a few lines of our own. Here a few of the children’s lines and this was only the second day!
I am the bleak freckles that stand forlorn on a lament face, just wishing to laggardly fade away into nothingness.
I am the drooping hair that disturbingly shakes off the unforgettable agony that is digging into you brutally, like a glacial winter’s day.
I am the mournful tears that constantly slither down your crestfallen cheek, along the path of somber.
I am the downcast eye that searches for a way to get rid of the imperishable melancholy that reaches inside you and sucks out all joyfulness that can be found.
I am the glowering mouth that has never once shown a single smile, I am the mouth to pain, the mouth to darkness, the mouth to indestructible fear that looms everywhere.
I am the wisps of hair that stand against the oncoming hordes of sadness – buying time for happiness,
I am the eyes that now transform into an endless ocean of tears,
I am the solitary tear that traipses down your youthful cheek and descends to my doom,
I am the melancholy eyelashes, forcing the tears to disperse from your cold eyes.
I am the cloud of despair, seeping through the pores of your skin.
I am a tear of sorrow dissolving into a face of inconsolable grief.
I am the lock of her hair drowning in the River of sorrow.
I am the colourless eye that has a shield of water around it so no one can see its true form.
I am the eyebrow that descends down to the eyelash to where it just meets.
I am the throat of anger as it holds back so many tears that it looks unbearable.
I am the isolated tear that traipses down your cheek – like a soldier trudging through an endless battle field,
I am the solemn eye posing as a distant shipwreck,
I am the youthful cheek that is the gentle pathway for the faithful journey of an icy tear,
I am the bulging throat trying to cope with the emotional meltdown,
I am the frown pouting in waves of sorrow.
I am the first tear shed when you cut your finger on a shard of glass from your Grandma’s vase.
I am the cheerless lips slowly turning down after a dear loss diminishing you to tears.
I am the reflective glassy eyes; they are never ending realms of misery.
I am the furrowed eyebrows, fiercely opposing the thought of a school bully hurting a lonely child.
I am the dry throat, making you choke on your words, your mouth freeze and your voice hoarse.
I am the discoloured cheeks of a small child, forlorn and sad, hoping someone will notice, not that there is much hope.
I am the taught skin, tensed, waiting for whatever is going to hit me to inflict the tormenting pain upon me.
I am the somber, loosely flowing hair of a despairing girl, hanging down over her shoulders, the blonde tips soaked from a steady stream of tears almost ,always flowing down her face.