Zachary
the blog of a Saint (the football team) the acedemic life of Zachary Mashaal
Thursday, March 22, 2012
weekly post
This week was a busy week. Because, we were introduced to algebra and we had to write a trailer (yup a movie trailer). But there was not that much writing but there was a lot of grammer and word study. There was lost of challeges this week but luckly there is spring break for a week. :-)
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
Saturday, February 11, 2012
My piclit
<a href="http://www.piclits.com/viewpoem.aspx?PoemId=138455"><img src="http://www.piclits.com/piclit-image/0/138/138455.png" alt="PicLit from PicLits.com" style="padding: 31px 8px 15px 10px; width: 260; background-image: url(http://www.piclits.com/assets/images/piclit-thumb-background.png); background-repeat: no-repeat;" suppress-context-menu="true" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.piclits.com/viewpoem.aspx?PoemId=138455" style="padding-left: 4px;">See the full PicLit at PicLits.com</a>
Friday, February 10, 2012
My wonder poem
Layers
By Zachary Mashaal
Why do onions make you cry?
When reminiscing those times gone by?
Visiting your grandfather’s grave, remembering his voice telling me to behave.
When reminiscing those times gone by?
Visiting your grandfather’s grave, remembering his voice telling me to behave.
Why does a bully never see the tears? Why do the bullied stay quiet year after year?
Not wanting to let go before they fly, at the airport with that long inevitable sigh.
Not wanting to let go before they fly, at the airport with that long inevitable sigh.
That eighth birthday when your Dad couldn’t stay.
The final baseball game where no one came to see you play.
Your Grandmother slowly drifts away as she forgets your name day after day.
The final baseball game where no one came to see you play.
Your Grandmother slowly drifts away as she forgets your name day after day.
A man’s best friend lost and not found.
Your pal that you share secrets with is no longer around.
Your Father no longer having a job. Nightly listening to your mother’s frightful sobs.
Your pal that you share secrets with is no longer around.
Your Father no longer having a job. Nightly listening to your mother’s frightful sobs.
Many memories that say goodbye.
That is why onions make you cry.
That is why onions make you cry.
Monday, February 6, 2012
my metaphor poem
The Fiery Beast
By Zachary Mashaal
The fog strangled the land
With beautiful green trees defenceless
Birds wings frozen chirping in silence
Black burning ashes filling the blue glimmering river
Nature in blindness
Peeking at the top of the snowy mountain
Green grass turning grey and dull
Boulders crumbling down the hill
The hungry waits like a predator for nature’s next victim
As it leaves the forest dead.
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