About

A poety blog from the children in Sandaig Primary.

Last Comments

applesauce (Diamante Poem by:…): thanks for doing my homework!
Marisa A. (Diamante poem by …): I reslly l;ove this poem cuz it helped me with writ…

Archives

01 Feb - 28 Feb 2005
01 Mar - 31 Mar 2005
01 Apr - 30 Apr 2005
01 May - 31 May 2005
01 Jun - 30 Jun 2005
01 Aug - 31 Aug 2005
01 Sep - 30 Sep 2005
01 Oct - 31 Oct 2005
01 Nov - 30 Nov 2005
01 Jan - 31 Jan 2006
01 Mar - 31 Mar 2006
01 May - 31 May 2006
01 Jun - 30 Jun 2006
01 Aug - 31 Aug 2006
01 Sep - 30 Sep 2006
01 Oct - 31 Oct 2006
01 Nov - 30 Nov 2006
01 Dec - 31 Dec 2006
01 Jan - 31 Jan 2007
01 May - 31 May 2007
01 Aug - 31 Aug 2007
01 Sep - 30 Sep 2007
01 Oct - 31 Oct 2007
01 Nov - 30 Nov 2007
01 Feb - 29 Feb 2008
01 May - 31 May 2008
01 Jun - 30 Jun 2008
01 Aug - 31 Aug 2008
01 Sep - 30 Sep 2008
01 Oct - 31 Oct 2008
01 Nov - 30 Nov 2008
01 Sep - 30 Sep 2009

Stuff

Powered by Pivot - 1.40.6: 'Dreadwind' 
XML: RSS Feed 
XML: Atom Feed 


Links: Archive |EntryKeepers

We have been writing some poems for the The Keepers Poetry Project there are too many for the main entry so....

(more)

Links: Archive |EntryThe Listeners

“Is there somebody there?” said the traveller.
Knocking on the big, black door.
And the moonlight shattered the darkness,
And lit up the forest’s floor.

And in the silence the trees swayed slowly.
Their trunks gnarled and old.
Beside the statues stood whispering,
About this man quite foolish but bold.

Inside the house stood ghosts,
Of people that lived there before.
But after the terrible accident,
They could live no more.

The traveller was now in a rage.
He put his hat on his head.
He climbed upon his horse,
“ I came, I waited but you broke your promise,” he said.

The ghostly figures listened.
To the traveller who’d waited a long time.
They also listened to his horse,
Trotting through the forest of pine.

Lucy

Links: Archive |Entrythe night of mystery

`I am back from my journey where are you?’
Asked the traveller tapping on the moonlit door
And tawittawoo was his answer as an owl soared out the trees.
He rapped on the door a second time and said
‘Where are you?
But all that he heard was a howl,
No one answered to his plea.
No creaking of an opening door.
The 1 thing left to see;
A small light coming from the window.
The 1 thing left to hear;
the crunching of footsteps on stone,
so the traveller tuned to see;
A statue staring back at him,
With eyes made out of gems.
He banged on the door again and said,
'Is there any body there?'
But still there was no one to hear him .
No one to answer the door ,
Except for the 1 thing,
A poltergeist bobbing around but not making a sound.
Then the traveller said,
'Tell them my journey was smooth but was spoiled for you not being in.'

David

Links: Archive |EntryThe Listeners

‘You said you would be here’ said the traveller.
Knocking on the wooden shed.
And an owl flew out of the window in the silence of the night.
And he saw the dead leaves lying on the woods weedy floor.
And he heard his foot steps on the gravel as he shuffled up to the door.
All was quite that night
That night he knocked on the door
What he heard that night was the whistling of the wind so cold.
What he could see that night was the old and tattered door.
Then suddenly he shouted,
‘Tell them I came and will return’.

Emma