Friday, June 11, 2010

Grace's 50 word story

My 50 word story

The Trial

The Burglar entered the courtroom. Everything was silent. The judge spoke.

“ You have been accused of stealing jewels. Do you deny it?”

Suddenly the Burglar felt angry. He slapped the judge as hard as he could, then walked out the door. The judge decided never to be a judge again.

By Grace

Hi everyone this is room 15's blog. I have been working with Mr D on this blog so you can all find out what we have been doing in room 15. We have loaded several pieces of class writing for you all to have a look at.



Philip Oliver (working in conjunction with Mr D)

Morgan's ANZAC poem

Poppies are red for the blood that was shed

Poppies are black for the souls that were lost

Poppies are worn for the people that fought

Poppies are bright for the day the broke

Poppies are worn for the soldiers that gave

Poppies stand strong in the fields that are gone

Poppies hold dark secrets that none of us know

Poppies smell sweet for the nurses that healed

Poppies burn red for the enemy’s too

Poppies are small but play a big role

Poppies remind us of all these things the one little flower so powerful

Hannah's ANZAC poem

Poppies are red the water was to,

to the soldiers who fought we salute you.

For the lives that were lost and the souls never freed

all for our land the enemy selfish greed.

Memorials stand proud and tall to commemorate the war

they will stay standing for the soldiers who had to take their final fall.

Rest in peace say the gravestones of many

because peace is really what we fought for

but instead we had horror.

The 25th of April is the day given to them for what was taken,

for them the memory will never start fading.

They fought for us so we could be free

their duty was clear

it was life or death no time for fear.

We ware them on us on Anzac day

the one little flower can remind us of so much

we keep them tight in our clutch.

Families never forget the months

their Father, Son, Grandfather, cousin, Nephew or Husband

never came home they were gone.

The poppies show their red for the fires that burned out

for the sun that never seemed to shine

for the blood we were never meant to see

and for the eyes of the enemy defeated.

Poppies are red the water was to,

to the soldiers who fought we salute you.

By Hannah Creary

Kamiria's 50 word story

The girl that will always remember

As I pass the weeping grass

My bag began to fall

What was the sound that gave the me creeps?

It was the shadows on the floor

I lead out a scream

Then a shout

Shadows fading in and out

Shadows creeping down the floor

The shadows were no more

By kamiria