The shrike

The shrike is a bird that hunts small reptiles. One he's got the prey he goest to a tree. Sticks it to a thorn and starts ripping it tell the meat is visible. After that he starts eating it. That's what he does to every one of it's prey. Sam said that they live in Nebraska and you could see them in wires in our town. That would just be nasty to watch once you go to school every morning.

I am poem revised

I am from tamales

Tamales warm and

Toasty

Delicious with every bite

You’ll have tons of might

Which make you all right

Tamales

Made from pork

If you want you could eat it with a fork

Be careful it quite

Warm

Taking more than 5 hours

For our delicious

Tamales

Having it every Christmas

On neat dishes

Making tons of wishes

My name is Jesus

I have no weakness

Because I’m Genius

Watching tv

Caring about nothin

Except for something

That thing is money

Now my poem is done

Let me just mention one

More thing

Because I’m a king

Never let your hopes die

Or you’ll never move on

I Am From

                                               I Am From

                                          I am from the arena,

                                      dripping of the sweat from

                                      my horse, passing barrels,

                                      the beating of his hooves

                                          as they hit they hit the 

                                                   dirt below.

                                          I am from the corrals,

                                        getting my horse ready for 

                                               his big moment,

                                        getting him warmed up, 

                                 by running him around the corrals.

                                            I am from the barrels,

                                            holding on to the ruins 

                                     feeling not a worry in the world,

                                          hearing the spurs clicking,

                                             and the feeling the                                                                        

                                                 leather saddle, 

                                          feeling the wind in your

                                         hair, hearing the sound 

                                     of the crowd cheering you on.

                                             

                                                I am from the dirt.

                                          kicking up dirt as my horse 

                                            moves faster and faster

                                          hearing him breath under 

                                               all the commotion

                                           hanging on as he goes

                                          faster and faster towards 

                                                     the gate.

I Am From

                   I Am From

                 

                            I am from the music room

                               where no one can put me down 

                                or tell me i’m not good enough

          the sound of the drum beats with my heart

                           the sound of my clarinet in my head

                              the sound of the band in unison 

                      the bell rings and I switch into choir (ring!!)

          the piano in the background plays in my head  

  as I sing my powerful tunes

      the lyrics stick in my head all day

          I annoy myself constantly

                      honor choirs where i finally fit in

      where someone loves music as much as me

            my parents, so proud

      maybe this year i will get a solo

                    maybe I will finally show someone 

        I am from the music room

    where my heart pours out in joy

  I will forever be from the music room

Musical monday

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                          8th grade English does Musical Writing

                                                                             Selena - English class reporter 

O’Neill Jr./ Sr. High school - Today many of the students in Mrs. Troesters class were doing a musical writing. Writing about many different things that they did over the weekend, about homecoming, and many more different things anything they wanted. Writing about what they thought of the first thing that came to mind they could write in there notebooks.

                 The way Musical Monday works is you think of the first thing that comes to your mind. Then you wait for the music to play then you start writing for as long as the music plays. Then when the music stops the students stop what there doing and there it is you have Musical Monday.

                  Many of the students wrote about different things like Matt Wilson 

he wrote about his first time going to a Husker game he wrote “I gave Malik Collins, Daniel Davie, Terrel Newby, and Tommy Armstrong high fives as they got of the bus.” Many of the students had a good time writing about what they did and many more things they like to share on Musical Monday.