Hello, this is what I used to do last year. Okay so I had a picture of dogs and you had to guess it. Okay!! So heres the picture.
http://www.google.co.nz/imgres?q=breed+cute+dog&um=1&hl=en&biw=1280&bih=685&tbm=isch&tbnid=tA-rOdmkxgQBlM:&imgrefurl=http://sakura-pet.blogspot.com/2011/06/cute-dog-breeds-gp03.html&docid=RQ58e9hDmfF5xM&imgurl=https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9CsDQ6kDnMwSSaG0t-2Gldltl5bmufZ9epJSA3Lqzzq-e6j1lmPlNuSeYShE4MSnL2h3asmWnTzRXqrq4tTWoyYamg2MbV8aEi3L9aD4HESeKPRoFX01vLlzuxZ568k3Xr-vLp7ri0Ds/s1600/bichon-frise-dog-breed.jpg&w=376&h=397&ei=yFabTpDGH8yUiQfxjvGrAg&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=1021&vpy=140&dur=5664&hovh=231&hovw=218&tx=156&ty=118&sig=101032436431297156014&page=1&tbnh=152&tbnw=135&start=0&ndsp=18&ved=1t:429,r:5,s:0
Copy and paste the up above into the internet bar thingy and see the dog and you'll have to comment to tell me what kind of breed they are.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
My Cat
My cat likes plastic bags.
My cat hates to hang.
My cat can stare into my eyes.
My cat is old enough to die.
My cat loves cubourds.
My cat hates rubbers.
My cat loves me.
My cat hates me.
Somehow I love my cat. She puts lots of scratches on my face. Now I can't think a trace. Somehow I love my cat. No matter what.
I wanted to make up a poem about my cat. I know. Your thinking " This poem is REALLY bad!! " and thats alright coz' I just made it up on the spot.
!@#$ Torz $#@!
My cat hates to hang.
My cat can stare into my eyes.
My cat is old enough to die.
My cat loves cubourds.
My cat hates rubbers.
My cat loves me.
My cat hates me.
Somehow I love my cat. She puts lots of scratches on my face. Now I can't think a trace. Somehow I love my cat. No matter what.
I wanted to make up a poem about my cat. I know. Your thinking " This poem is REALLY bad!! " and thats alright coz' I just made it up on the spot.
!@#$ Torz $#@!
Poems
This poem is very sad. I found it on the enternet. Ok here it is:
She's always heard
that if you dream it,
you can achieve it
but so far all she's achieved
is a black eye and a
broken wrist
that her mommy kissed better
when daddy finally
let her go.
She walked to the hospital
but had no money to pay the bill
so she lied about
her name, saying she
got healthcare for free
cause her daddy had fought
in a war
which I guess is true
if you count home
as a war zone.
Endless days and
bandages later, and she's
dreaming again -
growing wings and soaring
toward tomorrow,
praying she will make it through today,
find somewhere
safe
to stay, to lay
her head down for a
second of
rest,
praying the pain will go away.
She's dreaming of
New York or L.A.
cause she's heard people find
happiness
there.
She thinks it's a myth, this whole
happiness business,
but her best friend says
she deserves it
so she's gotta try.
So she runs away, praying
daddy will be home late today.
But God doesn't always
answer prayers.
He doesn't always
listen
even when you need him to,
and daddy saw her from the highway.
Even mommy couldn't kiss
this one better.
Can you bear to see her now?
There's no dreaming in her eyes -
looks like a stone
cracked, broken by cold and the unknown.
I kiss her fragile, angelic face
and I turn away from her as
the door closes, my voice
breaking
out in a song - a prayer,
so quiet it's hard to hear,
but she's always said I have
an angel's voice,
so it somehow seems right that
night begins and
dreams end
with the angels singing through her
best friend,
surrounding her shrouded memory
as she is laid to rest
on a bed of dreams and roses
six feet deep.
Create Date : Sunday, October 16, 2011
Update Date : Sunday, October 16, 2011
Elizabeth Grace
She's always heard
that if you dream it,
you can achieve it
but so far all she's achieved
is a black eye and a
broken wrist
that her mommy kissed better
when daddy finally
let her go.
She walked to the hospital
but had no money to pay the bill
so she lied about
her name, saying she
got healthcare for free
cause her daddy had fought
in a war
which I guess is true
if you count home
as a war zone.
Endless days and
bandages later, and she's
dreaming again -
growing wings and soaring
toward tomorrow,
praying she will make it through today,
find somewhere
safe
to stay, to lay
her head down for a
second of
rest,
praying the pain will go away.
She's dreaming of
New York or L.A.
cause she's heard people find
happiness
there.
She thinks it's a myth, this whole
happiness business,
but her best friend says
she deserves it
so she's gotta try.
So she runs away, praying
daddy will be home late today.
But God doesn't always
answer prayers.
He doesn't always
listen
even when you need him to,
and daddy saw her from the highway.
Even mommy couldn't kiss
this one better.
Can you bear to see her now?
There's no dreaming in her eyes -
looks like a stone
cracked, broken by cold and the unknown.
I kiss her fragile, angelic face
and I turn away from her as
the door closes, my voice
breaking
out in a song - a prayer,
so quiet it's hard to hear,
but she's always said I have
an angel's voice,
so it somehow seems right that
night begins and
dreams end
with the angels singing through her
best friend,
surrounding her shrouded memory
as she is laid to rest
on a bed of dreams and roses
six feet deep.
Create Date : Sunday, October 16, 2011
Update Date : Sunday, October 16, 2011
Elizabeth Grace
Fish
Hello I wrote this poem on the 8/3 - 2011 and I just found it in my english book. I've added a little bit but I'm REALLY suprised on how much thought I put in. Ok so here it is:
I squarm around. Hoping not to be found. By grey bodies and sharp white teeth. That grip into your fins. I have two huge eyes. That take up a tenth of my body. I have a pointy red tale. That follows behind. As I zoom along. I overlook shimmary. Colourful scales. As the sun. Catches their own light. I hear the same old string. Wounding up and plopping down. I've heard it a lot in the past years I've been living. Nowadays fish are getting death. And more death. Nothing but death. Especially those fish. In Tauranga. Oh my girlfriend could of died. Oh. From that terrible. Oil spill. Poor. Poor. Fish. And sea. Creatures. I mean. It's either those pesky grey finns that follow you around. Or. Or worse. Humans. They can follow. By having those really. Weird covers on their eyes. Or maybe their some type. Some type of creature. Living in the sea. But I like how they. Give us food. On a hook. It's quite sneaky. But I just wait. The humans put me back. When I was younger. I guess they thought. I was too small. That was very nice. Of them. Seeing they usually. Eat us. If I was a inch bigger. I would be on a platter. Waiting for a visit. From the cat. To jump up. And nibble. I can't imagine. Life. Without water. Like humans. Can't imagine life. Without air. But it would just be too. Risky for either one of us. If I was in a sharks tummy. I wouldn't be able to. Swim that 100 metre. In school. On Monday. I wouldn't. ( still ) Be able. To have. A girlfriend.
By Torz
Oh by the way all the full stops are meant for you to pause. But some of the stops are actually real ( you know what I mean ) so hows life? Wow...
Okay so what is this magical creature? Please comment and tell me. This poem is a type or p........... also comment on what the type of poem is too.
We have EXAMS next term. Two exams ( science and english ) are TWO HOURS long!! And I have 3 other exams but they are all 1 hour long. AHHHH!!!! Oh well thats why I am studying. My english teacher said we did have to write poems and ' feel ' them.
Tell me what you thought about my poem please!
^^&!@$ Torz $@!&^^
I squarm around. Hoping not to be found. By grey bodies and sharp white teeth. That grip into your fins. I have two huge eyes. That take up a tenth of my body. I have a pointy red tale. That follows behind. As I zoom along. I overlook shimmary. Colourful scales. As the sun. Catches their own light. I hear the same old string. Wounding up and plopping down. I've heard it a lot in the past years I've been living. Nowadays fish are getting death. And more death. Nothing but death. Especially those fish. In Tauranga. Oh my girlfriend could of died. Oh. From that terrible. Oil spill. Poor. Poor. Fish. And sea. Creatures. I mean. It's either those pesky grey finns that follow you around. Or. Or worse. Humans. They can follow. By having those really. Weird covers on their eyes. Or maybe their some type. Some type of creature. Living in the sea. But I like how they. Give us food. On a hook. It's quite sneaky. But I just wait. The humans put me back. When I was younger. I guess they thought. I was too small. That was very nice. Of them. Seeing they usually. Eat us. If I was a inch bigger. I would be on a platter. Waiting for a visit. From the cat. To jump up. And nibble. I can't imagine. Life. Without water. Like humans. Can't imagine life. Without air. But it would just be too. Risky for either one of us. If I was in a sharks tummy. I wouldn't be able to. Swim that 100 metre. In school. On Monday. I wouldn't. ( still ) Be able. To have. A girlfriend.
By Torz
Oh by the way all the full stops are meant for you to pause. But some of the stops are actually real ( you know what I mean ) so hows life? Wow...
Okay so what is this magical creature? Please comment and tell me. This poem is a type or p........... also comment on what the type of poem is too.
We have EXAMS next term. Two exams ( science and english ) are TWO HOURS long!! And I have 3 other exams but they are all 1 hour long. AHHHH!!!! Oh well thats why I am studying. My english teacher said we did have to write poems and ' feel ' them.
Tell me what you thought about my poem please!
^^&!@$ Torz $@!&^^
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