Grendel Wanted poster

We read Allan Ahlberg's poem 'Complaint' and decided to write a response to it in behalf of our teachers.

The children all play in the playground.
The children all sit in the sun.
The children all play hopscotch.
The children all get to have fun. 

We have to stay in at playtime.
And we don’t have any time to play.
All we have are meetings.
We don’t have a break in our day! 

We have to stay in at playtime.
All we do is work and plan.
We can’t go out and have fun.
Too many library books to scan! 

The children can play in the playground
And wear really funky hats.
We have to stay in at playtime;
Where’s the fairness in that?

Mellissa

The sun is a golden pancake
tossed high in the sky.
It is a yellow splodge of paint
flicked off the end of a paintbrush.
The sun is a flying saucer
lost in space forever.
It is a bronze medal
hurdling through the sky.
The sun is pure gold
from the net of a robber.
It is a two pound coin
tossed into the air.
The sun is a buttercup
blowing away.
It is a yellow yo-yo
bouncing up and down on the clouds.

by 4R

We have been trying to add more detail to our settings. Here are our descriptions of Jungle Planet and Ice Planet.

'As I stepped onto the damp, muddy forest floor I could smell the horrible smell of wet slimy swamps. But I can also smell the delightful flowers growing in the undergrowth. The sound of the parrot squawking in the distance and the monkey nagging me for evermore. As I walked further on down the jungle it seemed to get rather welcoming and in a way warmer but with a cool breeze here and there.'    

'As I pulled back the folige I saw a clearing, the most amazing clearing, like nothing you had seen before. On the forest floor, there were worker ants carrying leaves. There were humming birds and macows hovering above the canopy. An armadillo plodded across in front of me and I heard the distant growl of a jaguar and the ripple of a stream. I followed the sound and came to a river bank. I climbed a banana tree and sat on a branch with the wind rustling my hair. It made a wonderful sound like the tune of a flute player in a market street. I saw piranhas in the stream and frogs sitting by it. It was a hidden paradise.'