“My First Day” by Tanvi

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Tanvi is an 11 year old student from Melbourne who loves to write. Here is one of her poems which is about Tanvi’s first day in a new school.

All my things are in a box
My clothes, my shoes and all my socks
I get my hairbrush and brush my locks
Staring into space and cuddling my toy fox
We're moving and that is that
I tug my clothes and flip the rug/mat
My mom comes in and gives me a pat
She says I have a surprise what is that?
I get my things and go outside
All the emotions come in like a tide
All my friends are there for me to confide
I was so happy I almost cried
And I burst with pride
And then I realised
That I had a knot tied
Deep, deep inside
A gush of sadness overcame me
Realising that they would no longer be with me
It was a horrible thing to see
And then guilt ran free
My dad squeezed my hand 
I looked up and had a demand 
To stay here and
Stay on the land
My dad said that I would make new friends
Friends till the end
Friendships to mend
And they would always be my friend
I thought about it, lad
It then seemed rad
I wrote it in my notepad
Maybe it won't be so bad

“Remembrance Day” By James Aitchison

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What do we remember
On Remembrance Day?
Why do we lay wreaths
And hear a bugle play?
This day marks the end
Of the First World War;
The human race had never seen
A war like that before.
On land and sea, and in the air,
The conflict raged four years;
Millions died, nations fell,
Great empires disappeared.
It’s the day to wear a poppy
With honour, and with pride,
And remember all Australians
Who went to war and died.  

Teachers’ Note:

The Great War ended at the eleventh hour, on the eleventh day, of the eleventh month, 1918.  Sadly, two decades later, the world was at war again.

“Fractured Jack” by James Aitchison

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Jack be nimble,

Jack be quick,

Jack tripped over

The candlestick!

CRASH!

Then he met Jill

And went up the hill,

It ended in disaster.

Jill fell down,

Didn’t break her crown,

But Jack ended up in plaster.

“Animals and music” by Helen Evans

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There are songs like Pop goes the weasel
And the cow who jumped over the moon
A wonderful picture of that on my easel,
Then there’s the dish running away with the spoon!
I am woken each day with birds in song
It’s often called the dawn chorus
Where many of our feathered friends
Join a cacophony of sound for us.
When I hear a song from the Beatles
I don’t imagine a little beast
The Animals, and many others
Their singing for me is a feast
Then there are classical pieces
Carnival of the animals comes to mind
Peter and the Wolf, The baby elephant walk
Are legends of a different kind. 









“Davey the Dunnart from Kangaroo Island” by Kerry Gittins

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Davey the Dunnart loved to play horn.
He’d play every night from dusk until dawn.
Down by the creek he would jam with his band.
Their sound became famous all over the land.
Roo played the bass, with possum on drums,
Bandicoot swung on the harmonium.
Drongo would warble a sound warm and clear,
Bat’s jazz guitar was smooth to the ears.
They’d come from the trees, from the Mallee and swamps,
to jump and to jive, to swing and to stomp,
to dance through the night right up to the morn,
all dazzled, enchanted by Davey’s sweet horn.

Then one moonlit night Davey didn’t appear.
It seemed that their friend had gone, disappeared!
The animals searched all the places they knew,
and even looked inside the park rangers’ shoe. 

But Davey was nowhere. He could not be found.
‘Where can he be?’ his friends wondered and frowned.  
As day turned to night, a smell filled the air.
The sky had turned black and a bushfire declared.
Thoughts of poor Davey were put to one side
as everyone ran to find places to hide.
The heat was intense. Many lost homes,
and when it was over were left all alone.
After some time, the healing began.
Green was returning to parts of the land.
Flowers had buds, trees had fresh bark, 
and once again music was heard after dark.
Then out of the blue on one bright full moon night,
the sound of a horn was heard soft and light.
‘Could that be Davey?’ croaked frog in surprise 
The crowd was amazed and tears filled their eyes. 
‘Davey!’ they cried as they rushed to embrace.
‘We thought we would never again see your face,
or hear that jazz sound only your horn can play.
We’re so glad to see you, so glad you’re okay.’

Davey looked up at the friends gathered near,
and smiled a big smile that stretched ear to ear.
He took to the stage and blew that sweet horn
and everyone danced from dusk until dawn.