Don't worry, only one chocolate rabbit was harmed in this photo...:-))))
Sunday, 8 April 2012
Saturday, 7 April 2012
The Trench
A couple of months ago, the school asked the kids to write a poem for the Young Writers Travel Back in Rhyme competition. It had to be something to do with history.
This morning, the 11 year old got a letter through the post telling him that the poem that he had written had been selected for publication in the Tyne & Wear's 'Travel Back in Rhyme' poetry book! It is scheduled for publication on 30th June 2012. His school gets a free copy.
When I read his poem originally, I remember thinking, 'bloody hell, that's pretty good!' and it even brought a tear to my eye. I am just incredibly proud of my young writer!
Here's the poem -
The Trench
I am cold and exhausted,
I see a flood of tears trickling down courageous faces,
Blood pours out of freezing hands,
The command is given, and hell is released.
Cold-blooded bodies shiver as we charge forward towards our fate.
They yell instructions as we go forward step by step.
I can hear the rattling of guns
And the odd cry of an old friend falling to his death.
I fall and feel the squelchy, sticky mud
Squeezing through my fingertips.
I gaze down and see a pool of crimson,
The boom of the guns fades,
I close my eyes and see my mother,
I smile with relief as darkness, peace and sleep finally come.
This morning, the 11 year old got a letter through the post telling him that the poem that he had written had been selected for publication in the Tyne & Wear's 'Travel Back in Rhyme' poetry book! It is scheduled for publication on 30th June 2012. His school gets a free copy.
When I read his poem originally, I remember thinking, 'bloody hell, that's pretty good!' and it even brought a tear to my eye. I am just incredibly proud of my young writer!
Here's the poem -
The Trench
I am cold and exhausted,
I see a flood of tears trickling down courageous faces,
Blood pours out of freezing hands,
The command is given, and hell is released.
Cold-blooded bodies shiver as we charge forward towards our fate.
They yell instructions as we go forward step by step.
I can hear the rattling of guns
And the odd cry of an old friend falling to his death.
I fall and feel the squelchy, sticky mud
Squeezing through my fingertips.
I gaze down and see a pool of crimson,
The boom of the guns fades,
I close my eyes and see my mother,
I smile with relief as darkness, peace and sleep finally come.
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