Je dois écrire un poème en anglais sur le thème de l'emprisonnement, et j'avoue que je me suis un peu emportée ! Pouvez-vous m'indiquer mes fautes et aussi me donner votre avis ?
Merci d'avance !
Dear Gramma, Today I’m 8 years old, Daddy describes me as tiny but bold However, I don’t know how to rebel against my classmate She stole my pencil case and said I am an illiterate But it’s not my fault if I confuse all the words I hope that one day, I’ll write to you the most beautiful poem in the world Yours, Angelica
Dear Gramma, Today I’m 9 years old, All my high hopes of becoming a famous ballerina had been sold Mockeries from my comrades are so hard They said that I look like a pig in my pink leotard I don’t want to stop practicing my hobby because of their childish behavior
I’ll find a solution, I’m a warrior Actually, I think I can start a diet This will probably keep these idiots quiet Yours, Angelica
Dear Gramma, Today I’m ten years old, I study in another school because I was lonely and felt so cold. Everyone is so nice to me, I have good grades, I’m so happy !
I hope that you’re proud of your granddaughter, Who is going to write a book, I want to be an author !
It will be about mommy who is still at the hospital, She’s a superhero who deserves to be the main character from a novel! Even if her disability retrains her moves, She’ll be running in my head as long as her fight isn’t lose. Yours, Angelica
Dear Gramma, I am thirteen years old, And I’m not fine at all.
I love a girl, Velma, she is like a sunshine, Her orange hair and her green eyes are so divine. But we can not live our love story because of some rumors, We know these are not jokes, we have a good sense of humor.
Yesterday I was not scared to scream as loud as I can who I really am, Now I feel like every day is a crucial exam. These good moments are slipping through my fingers, I am hopelessly devoted to someone, but I can’t be hers.
I hope I don’t scare you with my bleak tone, But I promised to notify you if I was feeling alone. Much love, as always, Angelica
Dear Grandmother, I am sixteen, and I want to apologies. It’s been three years since you don’t read my words with your wide-open eyes. I have a lot of homework at high school, My grades are important for my parents, they are rude and it is not so cool.
I survive despite the nights when I don’t sleep well, But I can't complain because I know that you are locked in a cell. You are in a retirement home and I truly hope you are fine, (It is probably not the case, but I might erase this line)
You must medicines which turn you into a zombie. You are locked in your bedroom 365 days per years, but please don’t forget to practice your hobby, Mine is singing and dancing as has always been the case, You always support me and knew that it was not a phase.
I am sure that your body is trapped, but your thoughts are drifting. Gramma, I need you, I need a nurse to cure my feelings. Lots of love from Angelica
Dear soul, I am eighteen and I know you can’t read this letter. Your funerals were yesterday, A rainy day of May. It is not usual, but I thought your death was impossible, So it makes it less incompressible.
Then, I lost the meaning of life, People get stuck in a routine, must get a well-paid job, a wife, And finally, have a child and break up a few years later.
I don’t want that, I want to be like rainwater, To live a fast and joyful existence, And then disappear at lightning speed, like my self-confidence.
I realized that everyone born alone, and perish by oneself too, Between there is a succession of events which bother you, And then you are peaceful eternally.
Oh, Gramma, I did my best to be as good as you artistically, But I am just a failure of an artist, or maybe a lost genius. My inspiration left: you were my muse.
Without you, I am just a ghost haunting my awful memories. I am used to them, they are like accessories. Mommy and you were imprisoned in hospitals,
And me I am trapped by People who looked down on me, and my lack of self-confidence I am not able to think properly They are always looking at me My body can move but my mind doesn’t want to because of painful memories I am afraid of doing something wrong again This is my conception of imprisonment
I am free to laugh To cry To dance
To sit down To live To die
Gramma you choose my name all right, Angelica, Your little angel is joining you tonight.
