For writing we have been reconstructing a poem following the structure of Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen.
I read us instructions and we constructed our poems about ANZAC and the war. Here is Blake's poem:
THE GRUESOME WAR
A sickness creep around us, our chest released heavy coughs,
Wheezing for air from exhaustion.
Slowly creeping away from all artillery, I can see the men dropping like flies,
Trying to make it to safety, while bullets flying around us.
The mud squeezed its way through my toes.
Putting all of my cuts in pain rocks hiding in the mud slicing holes in my feet,
We are so tired and exhausted, the mud is weighing us down,
We slowly catch trench foot leading up to amputation.
“Gas”, I yelled “Get your gas mask!” Everyone was sputtering for air,
They rummaged through their bag searching for their awkward gas mask.
Mainly all of us are successfully but can hear someone wheezing for air,
As the gas floats down his lungs.
Big heavy green clouds hover around us, eyes are useless.
All I can hear is screaming while men choke on gas.
A man comes running to me, making big heavy coughs,
His lungs full up on big clouds of gas.
We walk behind wagon while watching a man coughing,
Choking on his blood, it was a gruesome sight,
Holes in his body were pouring out blood.
Medics holding him down as he wriggles around in pain,
Over the sound of bombs and gun shots,
I could hear a man cry from pain as his wagon rolls across the uneven ground.
He is lying on lots of his blood which is now turning into a mucus,
On this deadly gruesome journey I saw a horrible sight,
Like bullets fly through my mates ending their life in milliseconds,
Men lying on the ground as their lungs fill up with blood,
This was a journey that made me quiet for my whole life after the war.