HATE

Hate is the colour of a dark stormy night

It tastes like  rotten back bones

It smells like rotting fish heads

It sounds like shouting and swearing

It  feels like somebody  arguing

It looks like  punching and shouting

It lives in the  darkness under my bed.

HATE

Catching Matua up...

Dear  Matua,

While you were gone the class has been doing maths and getting ready for celebration assembly.  I had to read my poem and I was nervous because the whole school was staring at me. I felt  thrilled after I read my poem because everyone clapped.The other classes  plays were terrific and I had a great time but when I  stood up my legs felt prickly. We did some quizzes with Mr A but it was too wet to go and play a game.

Nga mihi,

Niki