Monday, 12 August 2013


Once upon a time, seven little fish lived.  They wanted to play tag, so they asked their mum, and their mum said, “Yes, but don’t go past the rocks because Tataraimaka is fishing with his black flax net he made from the flaxes at Sprits Bay.

So they went to play.  They were having so much fun that they forgot their mothers advice.

Then Tataraimaka saw them, so he got his net and he caught the fish.  They were crying so much that their tears made the sea salty.

Tane, the God of Light, saw them crying, so he turned them into the seven stars.

The End


Once upon a time there were seven fish and one mother fish.  One day the mum was going through the rules again. 
“Stay near the rocks, don’t go in the deep, dark, open sea.”

One day the fish forgot the rules and they went in the deep dark open sea.  Tataraimaka was the giant.  He had a net and it was made out of a magic flax.

Tataraimaka saw the seven fish.  He was glad.  He chucked his net on top of them.

Tane heard the seven little fish crying.  He felt really sad for them so he came down to help them.  He hauled them up to the sky.  He turned the fishes into stars by a magic trick.

THE SEVEN LITTLE FISH - Retold by Hayley

One day there were seven fish.  They were living with their mother.

They asked their mother if they could go and play.  But she said, “Stay by the rocks because Tataraimaka is fishing today with his magic net.”

They forgot their mothers warning and they swam to the end of the ocean and got caught by Tataraimaka and they cried.

Then Tane came down from the sky and took the net off Tataraimaka and took them into the sky and turned them into stars.


Once upon a time there lived an ant and a grasshopper.  The ant worked all Summer for Winter while the grasshopper made fun of her.

“Why do you work so hard?  Live a little!”

She did not listen.  She put her wheat in her pantry and cooked pancakes.

Soon, it turned to Winter.

The grasshopper said, “I need shelter and food.  Oh…..Oh……Ant”

He knocked on Ants door.  Ant opened the door.

The grasshopper said, “Can you give me food and shelter in your house and I’ll sing a song.”

“Why should I do that stuff for you, when I worked so hard all Summer, and all you did was laugh at me.  You should have thought about Winter.”

And she shut the door in his face.

Wise people think about tomorrow, today.

THE ENORMOUS TURNIP - Retold by Jessica

Once upon a time in Russia, an old man had just been to the market.  On the way back he found a turnip seed in a sealed bag.  When he got home he decided to plant it.  He watered it every day. 

The next morning, the old man went outside to check on the turnip.  OMG!  Guess what he saw!  He saw the biggest turnip in the world.  So he decided to harvest it.  He heaved and heaved with all his might, but the turnip would not budge. 

He decided to call his wife.  His wife came running out.  She held the little old mans back and pulled and heaved, but the turnip would not budge.

The farmers wife decided to call her son.  Her son came running out and held onto the farmers wife’s back.  They pulled and heaved with all their might, but the turnip would not budge.

The farmers son decided to call his dog to come and help.  The dog held the farmers son.  The farmers son held the farmers wife.  And the farmers wife held the farmer.  And the farmer held the turnip.  They pulled and heaved with all their might, but the turnip would not budge.

A little mouse came along.  “I can help you,” he said. 
Everyone turned around and laughed.  “You can not help us.  You’re way too small.”
“Oh yes I can,” said the mouse, and he grabbed onto the dogs tail.  They all pulled and heaved with all their might.

The turnip popped out of the ground.  Everyone toppled on top of each other and got caked in mud.

“Hooray!” everyone shouted.  “I guess it’s turnip soup for dinner.”
The farmers wife took the turnip inside to clean it.  Then she cut it up into little pieces and dropped it in the pot to cook.  She invited some friends to share the feast with. 

They all sat down at the table and ate some lovely turnip soup.
“Mmmmmmmm, yummy!”

DEAR DIARY - By Fergus

Dear Diary, 25th December, 1916

So, here I am huddled up on a sturdy branch in a vast tree for the second painful night in a row.  It is very hard to sleep because deafening gun shots are going off everywhere.  My body is knackered and I have an immensely sore head.  I am up in this tree because I am a sniper.  If anyone finds this note, they should know my name is George Crane, a private in the army.  It feels strange that after all my hard training, I am stuck up a tree thinking of delicious Christmas ham.  My mouth probably won’t open, it is freezing here.  We have seen lots of massive bears.  I got attacked by one, a very big one, it was terrifying.  Luckily I shot it.  There is one thing I like about being a sniper and that is you don’t have to live in a trench.  We eat two times a day, breakfast and tea.  I have to go, we are not allowed to write in our diary at night.


Dear Diary,

I am having a really rough day today, at least I am still alive and in the icky, muddy trenches.  I have not been writing that much because I have been real sad since my brave brother Darren died while protecting the base.  He shot all the Germans but before the bullet struck the last deadly German, the German shot a bullet back and it killed my brother.  I have been missing my family in New Zealand this Christmas, especially all the fun we usually have.  It really hurt when I was injured but I am alright now.  I hope everything is OK and if I survive this crazy World War I will make sure I tell them what happened to my brother and I will make sure we put a name on his grave.  Hopefully the ANZAC’s will kill all the bad guys.

That’s all for now.


Dear Diary,

Today was a miserable day.  I couldn’t stand the gunshots booming, and the shells blasting causing flames.  Even though it was Christmas I was on guard duty for the night.  I didn’t get much sleep.  I heard guns going off all around me.  It was terrifying to see my friend Chris lying dead in a blood puddle caked in dry mud.  It breaks my heart to see people like that.  I hate sleeping in the filthy muddy trenches and listening to grenades in the lightning storm.  Tonight a rifle bullet woke me up at midnight.  My vision was terrible until I found out I had a broken leg.  I was in so much pain.  A German soldier was lying unconscious and weak in a dirty trench with an empty pistol lying beside him.

From Scott


Dear Diary,

My dad has gone to war.  It’s rough when I can’t see him these days.  I just sent a letter to him.  I was trying to tell him that it was Christmas.  I waited and waited for a letter back.  I got one back from his friend Archie.  It said, “Your father is dead.  He was on guard duty and he got shot and he died.”  I cried and cried as I read the letter.  Then I sent one back to Archie.  It said, “Thank you for the news about my dad Archie.  I was really surprised.  Here’s some cookies for the team.  Good luck, Grace.”


Dear Diary,

It’s Christmas day, December 25th.  We’re in France.  We just moved into the trenches.  It’s 11pm.  Guns are firing, bomb shells are being flung everywhere and smoke rises.  Dark shadows lurk in the distance of the battle field like wandering ghosts.

Kris and Nathan have been left out at sea.  It was horrifying seeing their row boat flip backwards and people screaming.

The trenches are like heaps of chewed up pieces of gum, in puddles because of the mould and snow.  Heaps of soldiers are wearing gas masks because they don’t want to risk being attacked by gas grenades.  Heaps of soldiers are quietly singing about Christmas and wishing they were with their families.


Dear Diary,

It feels weird because dad is not here.  We might get no presents.  I am sad.  I do not like no dad.  This will be a very weird Christmas.  I want my dad.  I hope he comes back uninjured.  I wonder what Christmas will be like at war?  Different I guess.  I am always worried about him.  I will try to send him a blanket and some Anzac biscuits.

Love your dearest friend Hannah


Dear Diary,

Today I heard big bombs smashing against our trenches and the noise was appalling.

The next day I heard guns going off all around me.  I just couldn’t stand the noise of those guns.

I walked along one day hoping for a good day but sadly it wasn’t because as I was walking along and right before my eyes a bullet hit the ground.  I was amazed at what happened.

I was sad to see that my friend Levi was caked in mud and blood.  It was like a swamp.  I gave him one of my special poppies and placed it on his heart.  I gave him good luck on the heavens above us and hoped he could still remember me as a good friend.  When I looked up I thought I saw him playing with his dog who died a few years ago.  I won’t forget him.

The sad sad end.

Wednesday, 7 August 2013


I feel the falling snowflakes,
melting in my hands.
I hear the whistling wind,
blowing against the trees.
I see the icicles,
hang like daggers,
on the trees.
I taste the falling snowflakes,
melting on my tongue.
I see the deserted Fruitlands,
under the inversion layer.

By Alex

Tuesday, 6 August 2013


Bouncy, orange, grippy
Throwing, dunking
Sprinting, passing


Monday, 5 August 2013


Bumpy, hard
Building, breaking, making
Great for thinking with



Little, funny
Scratching, falling, eating
The size of hamsters



Painful, powerful
Sprinting, tackling, sweating
Mud, blood and tries



We have been learning to write cinquain poems.  We know that a cinquain poem has 5 lines.  The model we are using is
1st line - noun
2nd line - adjective, adjective
3rd line - verb, verb, verb
4th line - 4 word statement (may not be a complete sentence)
5th line - noun (similar but different to the one in the first line)

Keep reading our blog as we will post some of our poems.