| Writing Club |
|
Children will experience different ways in which to present their work where possible through ICT. Examples of children's work will appear below soon.
The owl
I found him toddling ‘round at the very back of the very top of a shelf. It is made of fluff and other stuff.
If let loose it will sore all day long through the snowy mountains and over the deep blue sea.
It dreams of freedom to sore across the sky but yet it sits at the back of the shelf.
If you saw it you would cuddle it deep in your arms.
By Lui (Year 5)
The Magic Box
My Magic Box I will put in my box, One thousand dreams from an unborn baby, A soul taken from the depths of today A carpet of light extracted from the most spectacular autumn sunset, I will put in my box, The sound of the sea rippling in the wind, A soft breeze taken from the first flap of a doves wing, A life fill of joy, excitement and wonder, My box is made from the finest of things such as, Fresh feathers, a miracle and butterfly wings, I will sleep in my box, The soft sound of the ocean will lull me to sleep, I will live a life in my box, The soul of today will take place in my body, I will be me in my box, I will rest, I shall sleep, I shall love in my box and sometimes even weep. By Tabby (Year 6)
Magic Box
I would put in my magic box the tip of unicorn’s horn, The tail of a of a green goblin, The zap of a strike of lightning. I would put in my magic box a bit of fire from a rocket, Pieces of the moon the stars and the sun, And pieces of gold and silver, I would fly to Mars on my magic box, And also to Australia, I would live in my magic box as if it were a mansion. By Charlie C (Year 6)
My Magic Box
I will put into my box A puff of wind blown from the Middle-East. A bounce from a kangaroo just born. A tooth that has fallen out of a crocodile. I will put into my box A handful of memories from an old man. The first leaf to fall off an oak tree. The scream of a little girl about to die. I will put into my box A tweeting robin. A scale from a fish. Glasses that can see into the future. My box will be made out of All the letters of the alphabet. The corners will be made out of dinosaur’s tail, And the sides will be made out of wishes. By Miriam (Year 5)
My Magic Box I will put into my box A croak of a frog on a summer night The sunset of a tropical island A life of an old jester I will put into my box A sight of a mountain A fish whimpering The victory of a person who climbed Mount Everest I will put into my box The sound of a bullet train at 300mph The cry of the last dinosaur The remembrance of a lost relative My box will have A lid containing emotions in the material The corners will be meteorite smashes My box is made out of the truth and lies By Matthew (Year 6)
Magic Box I will put in my box A starry night with a dazzling moon,
A crack of thunder and a flash of lightening,
A stream flowing through a fresh green meadow.
I will put in my box
A humming bird humming a pretty tune,
A cloud drifting across a pale blue sky,
A crimson drop of blood on a blank sheet of paper.
I will put in my box
A violin playing a peaceful song
A pearly white shark’s tooth
The whisper of a secret never to be told
My box is made of
Ice and silver with snowy hinges and raindrops
in the corners with starry corners
and a hurricane lock
I will
Swim in mybox,
Through the icy mountains
And sandy beaches.
By Anna C (Year 5) I want to write a poem From the baa of a sheep about to get shaved
From the bounce of a frog jumping in water
From the sound of chalk against a blackboard
From the last word from my great, great grandfather
From the first ray of sunshine after winter
From the first ever tooth that was lost in the world
From the feather of a bird who just got shot
From the pen that wrote to me on my first birthday
From the oink of a pig rolling in mud
From the swish of somebody’s hair in the wind
by Miriam (Year 5)
Under the infra red and ultra sonic blue
Under the infra red and ultra sonic blue twirl of fantastic colour, flutters across the wind , driving through snow, making a fabulous patch of colour. The air is not beaten. It fights back for the winter and explodes as the colour spreads. Spring has come. By Stefanos (Year 6)
I will put in my box
The swirl of the sunset twirling and prancing around
The whistling wind blowing in between the tender leaves
The last breath of an old cat
The playful leap of a baby tiger
I will put in my box
The laughs of a newborn baby
The warm melting sun glowing bright red
The fluttering of the old crows’ feathery wings
As it flies swiftly out of the trees
I will put in my box
The glowing white moon
Against the black sky
The smell of fiery fireworks
leaping through the smoky air
My box is made of the salty smell
Down by the seaside
And the yellow sand
It has hinges made of jaguars claws
And the corners are hidden with crystal white ice. By Ella (Year 5) |
Writing Club is held every Wednesday morning for Years 5 and 6. Children play with language, have fun with words and find new and unique ways to express the deep inner voice from their subconscious. The Club includes poetry exercises, advanced story writing techniques, newspaper story writing, and figurative language games and exercises that encourage the children to view the world and other worlds through different eyes. Free-writing will be used regularly to free the shackles from those burdened by concerns over the rights and wrongs of narrative and poetry. 
