sample descriptive prompts:
■ Write a description with the title ‘The playground.’
■ Write a description with the title, ‘The factory’.
■ Write a description of a place where animals are kept in captivity, such as a zoo,
wildlife park or sea-life centre.
■ Describe the inside of an interesting shop.
■ Describe waking up to find the scene around you has changed.
■ Describe a group of tourists outside an attraction
Imagery
➔ Like a choking handshake
➔ Wind whistles a foreboding tune
➔ Fold like crumpled paper
➔ Wilt like a dying plant
➔ Light slices through vision like a sharp knife
➔ Resembling dandelions in the wind
➔ Ominous shadow hugs the sky
➔ Scavenger of the sky
isabelle
Things to include in each paragraph (at least 3)
Figurative language; imagery; sounds; colour;
verbs; strong adjectives; assertive words; size; age
People
❖ Her father, a beacon of historical knowledge, spun tales of the past, his voice weaving a
spell around the young, dream-filled girl.
❖ Her defiance and passion, revealed through faded letters and whispered stories,
became a lighthouse guiding Eleanor through her own sea of doubts and dreams.
❖ She glided in, her presence casting a glow in the dimly lit cafe.
❖ Grandmother, with her silver hair always neatly braided, has a presence that exudes
wisdom and warmth. Her twinkling green eyes are framed by laugh lines that tell
stories of years gone by. She moves with a deliberate grace, her hands often busy with
knitting or baking. When she speaks, her voice is soft yet firm, each word measured and
, thoughtful. Her laughter, a melodic and infectious sound, fills the room with joy. She
has a habit of gently patting hands as she talks, a comforting gesture that makes others
feel cherished and understood.
❖ Ella’s laughter filled the room like sunlight pouring through an open window. Her hair,
always a little wild, bounced as she gestured passionately during the conversation, her
hands flying like birds in flight. She listened with genuine interest, her warm eyes
crinkling at the corners as if she was storing each word like a secret treasure.
❖ Mark’s heavy sighs seemed to hang in the air long after they had left his lips. His
shoulders slouched, and he rarely looked up from his phone, even when someone was
talking to him. The tap of his fingers against the screen was constant, a background
noise that drowned out the rest of the world.
People’s Appearance
❖ There was a softness to his appearance, a kind of warmth married to a shyness.
❖ The lines on his face etched the story of a happy life. His crow's feet spoke of laughter
and the deep creases in his cheeks told of a man who gave away smiles like they were
wishes.
❖ With a gasp, my eyes fly open. Immediately before me stands a tall, lean man. Slick,
isabelle
raven locks frame a beautiful, gaunt face of porcelain skin, flawed only by the sickly
darkness that sits beneath green eyes bleeding blue around the edges. And there’s a
manic depravity in the way he tilts the sharp cut of his jaw towards me to lean even
closer.
❖ Time had knitted its tales into her, adding depth into her smile, yet her eyes remained
the vibrant windows to her soul I remembered.
Old
❖ The old man sits with a quiet dignity, his presence marked by the traces of time etched
into his features. His hair, a crown of silvery strands, falls gently around his head, a
testament to the years that have graced him. His eyes, deep-set and surrounded by a
web of fine lines, seem to hold the mysteries of a lifetime, glinting with a wisdom and
warmth that invite conversation.
❖ His skin, weathered and tanned, tells stories of sunlit days and hard-won experiences.
The wrinkles on his forehead and around his mouth are like the pages of a book, each
line a chapter in his journey. His cheeks have a slight sag, lending a softness to his
otherwise rugged appearance.
, ❖ The old man's frame is slender, slightly stooped from the weight of years, yet he carries
himself with an air of quiet strength. His hands, resting on his knees, are calloused and
strong, bearing the marks of a life spent in work and toil. Each knuckle and vein stands
out like the roots of an ancient tree, steadfast and enduring.
❖ He dresses simply, in clothes that speak of comfort and practicality—perhaps a worn
cardigan over a flannel shirt and well-fitted trousers. The shoes on his feet are scuffed
yet polished, reflecting a respect for the past and the passage of time. Despite the wear
of age, there is a twinkle in his eye and a hint of a smile that suggests a spirit still
vibrant and curious about the world.
Crowded
Negative
❖ To say I feel drowned in crowds makes as much sense as a raindrop protesting to join
the ocean... but I do. I feel the energy, I love the vibe, and then I want to find a quiet tree
in a quiet spot to feel serenity once more. I'm the raindrop that falls on the beach, sits
on a pebble and adores the ocean from close by, savouring the salty aroma and the
motion of the waves.
isabelle
❖ I had never been claustrophobic before, but in that almighty swell of humanity I felt the
panic rise in my chest. When they moved, I had to also; if my feet failed to keep up, I
risked being trampled underfoot. Even in the bitter January cold I felt the warmth of all
those bodies pressing in. People were gaunt and serious, there was hardly a single
utterance in the thousands strong throng, save a few frightened yelps.
❖ The seething masses
❖ I could smell them: an unholy agglomeration of perfumes, body odour and over-applied
cologne.
❖ I was crammed in with more bodies than I could count even in a photograph, I tilt my
head to the sky. The empty blue gives me the strength just to walk at the pace of the
crowd and bottle my claustrophobia inside my chest.
❖ Jostling - he was jostled by passengers rushing for the gates.
Positive
❖ The crowd has a life of its own, the vibrant clothes shine in the morning light and the
people move like enchanting shoals of fish. There is chatter between sellers and buyers,
old friends catching up, new friends made. It's busy for sure, but the hustle and bustle
brings life to this city that I wouldn't want to be without.
■ Write a description with the title ‘The playground.’
■ Write a description with the title, ‘The factory’.
■ Write a description of a place where animals are kept in captivity, such as a zoo,
wildlife park or sea-life centre.
■ Describe the inside of an interesting shop.
■ Describe waking up to find the scene around you has changed.
■ Describe a group of tourists outside an attraction
Imagery
➔ Like a choking handshake
➔ Wind whistles a foreboding tune
➔ Fold like crumpled paper
➔ Wilt like a dying plant
➔ Light slices through vision like a sharp knife
➔ Resembling dandelions in the wind
➔ Ominous shadow hugs the sky
➔ Scavenger of the sky
isabelle
Things to include in each paragraph (at least 3)
Figurative language; imagery; sounds; colour;
verbs; strong adjectives; assertive words; size; age
People
❖ Her father, a beacon of historical knowledge, spun tales of the past, his voice weaving a
spell around the young, dream-filled girl.
❖ Her defiance and passion, revealed through faded letters and whispered stories,
became a lighthouse guiding Eleanor through her own sea of doubts and dreams.
❖ She glided in, her presence casting a glow in the dimly lit cafe.
❖ Grandmother, with her silver hair always neatly braided, has a presence that exudes
wisdom and warmth. Her twinkling green eyes are framed by laugh lines that tell
stories of years gone by. She moves with a deliberate grace, her hands often busy with
knitting or baking. When she speaks, her voice is soft yet firm, each word measured and
, thoughtful. Her laughter, a melodic and infectious sound, fills the room with joy. She
has a habit of gently patting hands as she talks, a comforting gesture that makes others
feel cherished and understood.
❖ Ella’s laughter filled the room like sunlight pouring through an open window. Her hair,
always a little wild, bounced as she gestured passionately during the conversation, her
hands flying like birds in flight. She listened with genuine interest, her warm eyes
crinkling at the corners as if she was storing each word like a secret treasure.
❖ Mark’s heavy sighs seemed to hang in the air long after they had left his lips. His
shoulders slouched, and he rarely looked up from his phone, even when someone was
talking to him. The tap of his fingers against the screen was constant, a background
noise that drowned out the rest of the world.
People’s Appearance
❖ There was a softness to his appearance, a kind of warmth married to a shyness.
❖ The lines on his face etched the story of a happy life. His crow's feet spoke of laughter
and the deep creases in his cheeks told of a man who gave away smiles like they were
wishes.
❖ With a gasp, my eyes fly open. Immediately before me stands a tall, lean man. Slick,
isabelle
raven locks frame a beautiful, gaunt face of porcelain skin, flawed only by the sickly
darkness that sits beneath green eyes bleeding blue around the edges. And there’s a
manic depravity in the way he tilts the sharp cut of his jaw towards me to lean even
closer.
❖ Time had knitted its tales into her, adding depth into her smile, yet her eyes remained
the vibrant windows to her soul I remembered.
Old
❖ The old man sits with a quiet dignity, his presence marked by the traces of time etched
into his features. His hair, a crown of silvery strands, falls gently around his head, a
testament to the years that have graced him. His eyes, deep-set and surrounded by a
web of fine lines, seem to hold the mysteries of a lifetime, glinting with a wisdom and
warmth that invite conversation.
❖ His skin, weathered and tanned, tells stories of sunlit days and hard-won experiences.
The wrinkles on his forehead and around his mouth are like the pages of a book, each
line a chapter in his journey. His cheeks have a slight sag, lending a softness to his
otherwise rugged appearance.
, ❖ The old man's frame is slender, slightly stooped from the weight of years, yet he carries
himself with an air of quiet strength. His hands, resting on his knees, are calloused and
strong, bearing the marks of a life spent in work and toil. Each knuckle and vein stands
out like the roots of an ancient tree, steadfast and enduring.
❖ He dresses simply, in clothes that speak of comfort and practicality—perhaps a worn
cardigan over a flannel shirt and well-fitted trousers. The shoes on his feet are scuffed
yet polished, reflecting a respect for the past and the passage of time. Despite the wear
of age, there is a twinkle in his eye and a hint of a smile that suggests a spirit still
vibrant and curious about the world.
Crowded
Negative
❖ To say I feel drowned in crowds makes as much sense as a raindrop protesting to join
the ocean... but I do. I feel the energy, I love the vibe, and then I want to find a quiet tree
in a quiet spot to feel serenity once more. I'm the raindrop that falls on the beach, sits
on a pebble and adores the ocean from close by, savouring the salty aroma and the
motion of the waves.
isabelle
❖ I had never been claustrophobic before, but in that almighty swell of humanity I felt the
panic rise in my chest. When they moved, I had to also; if my feet failed to keep up, I
risked being trampled underfoot. Even in the bitter January cold I felt the warmth of all
those bodies pressing in. People were gaunt and serious, there was hardly a single
utterance in the thousands strong throng, save a few frightened yelps.
❖ The seething masses
❖ I could smell them: an unholy agglomeration of perfumes, body odour and over-applied
cologne.
❖ I was crammed in with more bodies than I could count even in a photograph, I tilt my
head to the sky. The empty blue gives me the strength just to walk at the pace of the
crowd and bottle my claustrophobia inside my chest.
❖ Jostling - he was jostled by passengers rushing for the gates.
Positive
❖ The crowd has a life of its own, the vibrant clothes shine in the morning light and the
people move like enchanting shoals of fish. There is chatter between sellers and buyers,
old friends catching up, new friends made. It's busy for sure, but the hustle and bustle
brings life to this city that I wouldn't want to be without.
