9. Term 3 Celebrations

Today July 22 2016 we received the first of our Write The World inaugural annuals which will be launched at Harvard University in Boston USA shortly and which will also be launched at Avid Reader, West End in September. Details will be posted soon.

Congratulations to all of those girls who engage in the Write The World online community and in particular to those of you who had work selected for the annual.

CaptureWrite The World


Another celebratory moment came when I was presenting our Writing Community AND Write The World in the recent national AATE and ALEA Conference in Adelaide. The work that we do together was widely praised and inspired other educators to consider creating writing communities.


So today our theme is celebration.

Words of celebration



 As soon as we crossed into Yorkshire

Hughes’ voice assailed me, unmistakable

Gravel and honey, a raw celebration of rain

Like a tattered lacework window;

Black glisten on roof slates,

Tarmac turned to shining ice,

Blusters of naked wind whipping

The wavelets of shifting water

To imaginary floating islets

On the turbulent river

Glumly he asked, "Where are the mills?"

Knowing their goneness in his lonely heart.

"Where are the mines with their turning spokes,

Lurking slag heaps, bolts of coal split with

Shimmering fools’ gold tumbling into waiting wagons?

Mostly what I came for was a last glimpse

Of the rock hanging over my cot, that towering

Sheerness fifty fathoms high screed with ferns

And failing tree roots, crumbling footholds

And dour smile.
 A monument needs to be known

For what it is, not a tourist slot or geological stratum

But the dark mentor loosing wolf’s bane

At my sleeping head.

When the coach lurches over the county boundary,

If not Hughes’ voice then Heaney’s or Hill’s

Ringing like miners’ boots flinging sparks

From the flagstones, piercing the lens of winter,

Jutting like tongues of crooked rock

Lapping a mossed slab, an altar outgrown,

Dumped when the trumpeting hosannas

Had finally riven the air of the valley.

And I, myself, what did I make of it?

The voices coming into my head

Welcoming kin, alive or dead, my eyes

Jerking to the roadside magpie,

Its white tail-bar doing a hop, skip and jump.
by Charles Bukowski Source :http://www.poetrysoup.com/famous_poems/long/celebration



Source: http://static.wixstatic.com/media/8c2f69_095b87d974c94bf1bdcd1bf39af696cc.jpg/v1/fill/w_1319,h_787,al_c,q_85,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01/8c2f69_095b87d974c94bf1bdcd1bf39af696cc.jpg


Source: http://www.ringthebelles.com.au/uploads/5/7/1/9/57190793/3917784_orig.png