Published Writing

Autumn
Poet: Nadia Chitpientram

Twirling

Tumbling

Falling

Then landing

On a carpet of delicate leaves.

Crunch

Thin crunchy leaves crackled

Creating music

Trees shivering

Bald

Wet ground carrying the weight of the musicians

Crimson

Frosting the ground

Breeze drifting along.

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Golden Glow

Poet: Jasmine McCoy

Light shines on the crinkled old leaves,

Wind howling through the night, 

Leaves dance like broken bodies to the ground,

Colourful trees fall apart.

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Autumn Leaves

Poet: Amy Wallis

Auburn leaves drift to the ground

Shrivelling. 

One solitary leaf hangs lifelessly

on a branch

curled like a taco shell.

Layers of fiery orange leaves

scatter the ground,

Crunching under feet,

Clogging drains.

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Forest Blaze

Flames flicker alive,

Converting into scorching blazes.

Sending roars of a thousand engines,

Echoing throughout the forest,

Obliterating forest life.

Petrified animals,

Scatter from hiding places.

Dawn approaches,

Fire passed,

Leaving vegetation shrivelling away.

Black coats covering flaming dirt

Thump!

Burt out hollow trees,

Crashing down like thumping

Heartbeats

By Josh Bligh

Flickering Light

A world of wonder, beauty

Flicker of light, blazing fire

Vegetation drowned in smoke

Trees shredded of leaves

Rings of fire dancing madly

Trees scattered, destroyed

Red

Orange

Yellow

Fire is painting its surroundings

The wind is deafening

The sky a ghastly grey

By Molly Bloy

Fire

Trees, bush, grass, homes

A fearsome beast devouring life

Ash drifting in the breeze

Charcoal scarring the earth

Life drained out

A black carpet covering earth

The helpless bush now ash

Flames of chaos

Once contained now a feared beast

Life drowning in smoke

By Amy Skelhorn

100 Word Challenge - 29th March 2017

Motivation: Hard Beautiful Brown Camera Worried 

Plutonium

By Neo Gibbs

We walk out of our rusty shed and enter the cave. We are mining for Plutonium; each piece is worth 4 million dollars. We pull out our picks and chip away at the hard brown rock. We're worried about what could happen to use rock falls, dust storms, deep holes and more. But nothing stops us from mining. I had a friend once that died in this mine. "Everybody stop the talking I think I found something!" Wow! It was beautiful. A man pulled out his camera and snapped a shot. We had found plutonium. The mineral was on the news and I was on the news too. 

School Photo Day

By Sol Price

It's always hard getting out of bed to go to school but today I am worried! It's school photo day... Every year my hair is mucked up or I've got a weird look on my face. All the other people are handsome and beautiful but I'm always the clown in front of the camera. Now I'm out of bed I pop my cleanest shirt on and my brown shorts. I never put gel in my hair but today I must. I walk over to the bathroom. When I'm done my hair looks amazing. Now I'm definitely ready for school.

This weeks 100 Word Challenge

Motivation: ...so that is why I am always last...

So That is Why I am Always Last

by Anita Martin

3...2...1...Go! This is the time for me to prove myself. I know I can do it with all those weeks of hard work and training. I'm realising that coming last isn't my spot anymore! 

     I'm just in the middle of thinking when I realise that everyone else has gone. I'm last! With sudden shock that all my hard work has been wasted. I stared at my parents in the crowd with the same look of disappointment on their faces. Suddenly without thinking a I erupt into tears.

     I has always thought too much about coming first, that's why I'm always last.

As the Night Returns

By Ida Scott

The man stands bent over, his silhouette almost cowering. Behind him, the hills stand tall, rising out of the misty water, blocking the view of the fading sun.

As the last rays of light slip below the horizon, the man gets up and threads his line out into the water, sighing. Then suddenly, he feels a hopeful tug and egerly reels his line in. As the hook emerges from the lake a fish comes with it. A joyful smile spreads across the man’s face and turning his motorboat on he sets off as the night returns.

The Relaxed Lake

By Maya Gray

I see a shilouette catching a fish

I see a dark timber motorboat

I see the sunset invading the bright blue sky

I see a confused valley, full of mist

I see a cold orange mirroring lake

I close my eyes and listen

I hear soft gentle waves gliding across the damp surface

I hear a forest of trees calmly swaying from side to side

I hear sweet birds chirping

I open my eyes and smell my surroundings

I smell the moist, damp tree trunks
Time moves on