Something is towering
High in the sky
Is it a building?
No it's a giraffe.
You watch as it
Walks toward you.
It's graceful legs
Far longer than any other.
The spots on it
Are dull and brown
But the beauty within
Is more pretty.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Graceful Giraffes
Author's Note: I had started to write this poem and then Mrs. Mundt said to not write a poem for the writing piece. So, I finished up this poem.
Something is towering
High in the sky
Is it a building?
No it's a giraffe.
You watch as it
Walks toward you.
It's graceful legs
Far longer than any other.
The spots on it
Are dull and brown
But the beauty within
Is more pretty.
Something is towering
High in the sky
Is it a building?
No it's a giraffe.
You watch as it
Walks toward you.
It's graceful legs
Far longer than any other.
The spots on it
Are dull and brown
But the beauty within
Is more pretty.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
The Little Flubber
Author's Note: Our writing circle topic today was Flubber. This was even more random then before... Enjoy my equally random and cute story!
A little colorful fluff ball was sitting on the counter, licking the frosting off of oreos. For every one he licked, he took another one out of the package. When the whole package was gone, he screamed and cried until his mother rushed over to see what was the matter. She sighed, seeing that her son only wanted more oreos.
“We’ll go buy more tomorrow- you’ve had too many today,” she said gently.
“Want more now.”
“Later.”
“Now! Want more now.”
“Honey-”
“Want more now! Oreo me want now! Now! Now! Now! No later! Now!” The little flubber started shriveling on the floor.
“You could have lunch, now.”
“What for lunch?”
“Well, do you want more Oreos?”
“I dunno. Maybe. Oh, how ‘bout an apple with chocolate chips and peanut butter with a side of fluffy flabbers?”
“Okay...” The mother was shocked at how her “diversion” worked. Now she was going off to the store to buy more fluffy flabbers.
A little colorful fluff ball was sitting on the counter, licking the frosting off of oreos. For every one he licked, he took another one out of the package. When the whole package was gone, he screamed and cried until his mother rushed over to see what was the matter. She sighed, seeing that her son only wanted more oreos.
“We’ll go buy more tomorrow- you’ve had too many today,” she said gently.
“Want more now.”
“Later.”
“Now! Want more now.”
“Honey-”
“Want more now! Oreo me want now! Now! Now! Now! No later! Now!” The little flubber started shriveling on the floor.
“You could have lunch, now.”
“What for lunch?”
“Well, do you want more Oreos?”
“I dunno. Maybe. Oh, how ‘bout an apple with chocolate chips and peanut butter with a side of fluffy flabbers?”
“Okay...” The mother was shocked at how her “diversion” worked. Now she was going off to the store to buy more fluffy flabbers.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
French Toast
Author's Note: My group chose to write about french toast today. It was kind of random. But, I like random things.
Mr. Sun greeted me, heating up the blankets on my bed. I finally decided to sit up and stretch. It felt good to reach toward the ceiling. Then I jerked, smelling something delicious. But I then realized it was only in my head. My dad never cooks. He always buys packaged snacks from the store or takes us to a restaurant. (I mean us by my brother Tim and me. My name’s Tilly by the way. Yeah... I noticed that, too. Our names both start with the letter T.)
So I tromped down the stairs and decided to make myself some french toast. Even though I had no experience with cooking other than maybe cereal or Mac & Cheese. Luckily, I have been taking FCE class and am now able to make french toast. The first one I made started smoking and burning. Quickly, I took it off the stove. At least I was smart enough not to know to dump water over the pan- it would only make it worse.
By the fourth batch, I was kind of tired, but it finally turned out right. I grabbed the syrup and dumped it all over the french toast. The sticky syrup slid down my throat. It was so delicious that I kept the other pieces for my dad. Boy, was he surprised!
Mr. Sun greeted me, heating up the blankets on my bed. I finally decided to sit up and stretch. It felt good to reach toward the ceiling. Then I jerked, smelling something delicious. But I then realized it was only in my head. My dad never cooks. He always buys packaged snacks from the store or takes us to a restaurant. (I mean us by my brother Tim and me. My name’s Tilly by the way. Yeah... I noticed that, too. Our names both start with the letter T.)
So I tromped down the stairs and decided to make myself some french toast. Even though I had no experience with cooking other than maybe cereal or Mac & Cheese. Luckily, I have been taking FCE class and am now able to make french toast. The first one I made started smoking and burning. Quickly, I took it off the stove. At least I was smart enough not to know to dump water over the pan- it would only make it worse.
By the fourth batch, I was kind of tired, but it finally turned out right. I grabbed the syrup and dumped it all over the french toast. The sticky syrup slid down my throat. It was so delicious that I kept the other pieces for my dad. Boy, was he surprised!
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