By Sollie
I lie on the hard dusty ground soaking in blood, mud, and in my mind are thoughts of being back with my family. I am ravenous and exhausted from running, from here to there, trying to find somewhere to hide. No birds sing and no grass grows, the only thing that does grow are the blood red poppies that get stomped on like a soldiers heart. Once you hear the whistling of bombs and the sound of ear drum breaking gun shots, you’ll think that it’s a nightmare. Everything around me is always the same, I insist to go back home and be safe again.
By Bryony
Poppy’s blow in the cold crispy air. Men lie in pain. Bombs explode in the distance looking like fireworks. Men lie down waiting to attack. Yelling and dust fills the air. Writing letters to loving family. They march proudly to remember the soldiers who fought in the war. There medals proudly worn on their ripped jacket. Poppy’s are now worn on ANZAC DAY to remember them. They will be remember for a very long time.
By Katy
Sitting on the hard rock floor, raining eggs all around me. Lying in the soft silky poppies. Now back at the rat hole. Shells flying all around like birds. BOOM! CRASH! Bombs landing all around me. My ear drums bursting. Guns shooting BANG! Bleeding people lie on the hard ground. Rats scattering all around me. Fireworks shooting up. Gas rumbled around. A tear dropped from my eye. At last I am home with my ANZAC biscuit.
By Georgia