1. ANZAC DAY 25 April

2. War Activated noun poem Bright red blood gushing out of my leg while the huge brown rats scamper over the dead decomposing bodies. As I hear the screams of the shot and wounded and the roaring of the planes above. The guns firing continually through the air and there in the distance I can see the bright red poppies in the op en fields. By Taryn Morgan

3. My 6 years in hell! Smoking, black guns are firing and killing, while bloody, cold corpses are decomposing. Scarlet, gooey blood is gushing and oozing out of my wound. Detached, pale limbs are flying through the air. Canons shooting and killing our enemy, shinny bullet shells are laying in our trench reminding us that we have killed. By Ceri Taylor.

4. Wartime a senses poem The battlefield is discolored with blood All you can taste is smoke Smells of fecal matter, urine and burning shrapnel Carnage is all you can see for miles and miles It’s either deafening silence or intense explosions shooting All you can feel is mud and numbness and desecrating wounds. By Grant Stead

5. The landing War is grey of pain and anger The taste of trickling blood It smells of decaying flesh War looks like messy chaos and sounds like millions of screams of pain It feels like a screwdriver slowly driving into your chest By Dylan