Winner Examples 2019


Daniel and Gadget

By Michael Hunt

Wooyung NSW

Daniel walks steadily, each leg swinging in a measured arc, as if he’s a wind-up toy. He can hear the click of Gadget’s claws on the concrete beside him, constant and continuous like the clatter of knitting needles. The sun is warm on his face, and the metal rivets in his jeans feel hot where they touch his skin. His hands are a little sweaty around his cane and Gadget’s harness.
When they stop at an intersection, Daniel leans down and gently tickles Gadget behind the ears. Then they wait. Daniel looks straight ahead, as if watching the ‘DON’T WALK’ sign. He can’t see it, but knows exactly where it is, and can sense the rest of his surroundings mapped out around him, the streets and buildings, the railings and telegraph poles. It’s familiar territory, but today it seems too familiar, and he wonders what lies beyond the hazy edges of all the places he knows his way around.
The scented breeze tickles his nose and tells him the melaleucas are flowering. He knows the flowers are white and the leaves are green, and while he can picture ‘white’, he can’t imagine ‘green’. Colours are ideas he’s learnt about through his fingertips. From books. Any memory of them is lost, light-years beyond recall. Only a little diffuse light comes through now, just shades of grey in the darkness.
He can hear the voices of the people around him, and the scrape of their feet on the footpath. The ones who speak reveal to him their sex and age, simply by the tone of their voice.
Cars pass. A bus, and a motorbike too. A man with a pram and a toddler are coming to a halt behind him. Off to his right a middle-aged man is talking into a mobile phone, quite loudly, as if to himself. Another bus passes.
Beside him are two girls with voices that place them in the fifteen to thirty age group. They’re talking about going out that evening, debating where to go and what to wear. Their taste in music is a lot like his, and he curses the flat, incident-free horizons of his own social life, both before and behind him.
He’d like to ask the girls whether he could go out with them, but dreads being ridiculed or pitied. He says nothing, and a moment later the cars in front go quiet while those on the side roar into motion. The traffic lights ping and everyone hurries forward.
On the next block a row of shops stand shoulder to shoulder, and he can place each by its smell. First is the yeasty aroma of the bakery. Next is the fish and chipper in a greasy cloud of hot fat perfume, then the chemist, exuding a faintly floral fragrance. Rotting fruit marks the grocery store’s position, and the smell of char-grilled steak lingers outside the restaurant.
Daniel has a shopping list to attend to, but decides to do it on the way home. It isn’t much, just bread, baked beans, eggs, a few vegies, but it means a lot to him. It makes him feel that he really has grown up, that he’s the equal of anyone else walking the street. He can easily manage a few little things like shopping, cooking and cleaning up.
He’s managed to convince his mum and dad of that too, he reminds himself, thinking of how he’s just sent them off for a weekend away. He could tell they needed to spend some time together without him, and even if they didn’t, he needed a break from them, from their over-protectiveness, and from saying, “Don’t worry, I can manage,” twenty times a day.
At the corner he stops again to wait for the lights to change. There’s the sound of approaching footsteps, and then someone lays a big hand on his shoulder.
“How ya goin’, Dan?” asks the owner of the hand.
“Oh, hi Nat. I’m good. How’s yourself?”
“Good, mate. Watcher up to?”
“Just taking Gadget for a walk, nothing exciting. We’re going to the park. He needs to have a run sometimes, and he can meet all the other dogs. It’s the only time he gets any freedom.”
“I haven’t seen you around for a while. Been laying low?”
“Not really. I’ve been busy, doing computer classes.”
“You haven’t been in the pub for months.”
“A month maybe. You gonna be there tonight?”
“Not tonight. I’m taking my girlfriend to the flicks. Ah, at last, the lights have changed. You right?”
“I’m right. Gadget knows the way. So who’s the girlfriend?”
“’Er name’s Sarah. She’s actually a friend of my last girlfriend. One thing leads to another, as they say.”
“Cool. Anyway, we’re going into the park here. I’ll catch you another time.”
“See ya.”
Daniel and Gadget walk into the park between two rows of flowering shrubs. Though the grevilleas are almost scentless, their positions are clearly marked by the gentle buzz of bees feasting on their nectar. He can hear the voices of children playing, and sometimes the footsteps of other people out exercising their dogs.
When they reach the open stretch of grass at the centre of the park, he slips the harness from the ring on Gadget’s collar.
“Go,” he says.
He sits for a while on a bench letting his mind float, listening to the sound of distant voices and remembering Pete’s words; one thing leads to another.
It’s a good theory, he muses, but how do you make a start?
He knows he likes girls. Talking to them makes him feel more alive. He ‘went’ with one of the girls at high-school for a few weeks, and learned the tingling, tantalising feel of her – the velvet softness of her skin, the gentle flow of her voice. He’d known the dizzying caress of her firm, rounded breasts pressing into his chest.
But it was a fleeting joy which left him thirsting for more. After a little reflection and a few words of advice from her friends, this girl had decided a boy with good eyesight might be a better prospect.
He shrugs off the memory. Of course most girls think that way. Why shouldn’t they? He stands up and strolls across the lawn between two shades of grey. A row of trees casts a line of deep shade. If he keeps this on one side, with the brightness of sun-soaked grass on the other, he can walk up and down without straying.
He fills himself with the warm air, thick with perfume and birdsong. After about ten minutes, he wanders slowly back to the bench seat, advancing cautiously, pinpointing it’s location with his cane. He’s learnt from experience just how shin-crackingly solid a park bench is.
He sits down. A tree stands above the bench, and its shade is as cool and welcoming as the sea in summer. Before long Gadget comes over and flops down in the same shadow. He is panting. Daniel tickles his ears.
A few voices rise and fall as a group of people stroll along a nearby path. They are followed by the dual sets of footsteps made by a person with a largish dog. This dog-walker leaves the path and sits down on the other end of Daniel’s bench. Daniel hears the click as the dog is released. Then he hears its skipping, sliding paw-pads as it bounds away.
Gadget sniffs, shuffles around, and stands up. “Yes, go, if you want,” says Daniel. Gadget trots away.
Soon the pattering of two dogs’ paws are arcing in and out of his hearing range as the dogs chase each other on the lawn.
When the person beside him speaks, Daniel is surprised to hear the clear, musical voice of a young woman. “Our dogs seem to have made friends,” she says.
Daniel turns to her and smiles his broadest smile. “They’re having a lovely time.”
“Nice day for it, too.”
“Yes. We often come down here on this sortuva day for some exercise. A big dog likes a bit of space to run around in.”
“We’ve only just discovered this park,” she says. “We’re new around here. Still learning our way around. What sort of dog is yours?”
That surprises him. Most people know what labradors look like. “A labrador,” he replies, and glances towards the lawn where the two dogs are still running in circles. “What kind is yours?”
“Mine’s a labrador too!”
“Then why didn’t you know what…”
“Because…”
“You mean, you’re…”
“Yes! Like you!”
He is speechless, for a moment that stretches as long as a thread thrown loose from the spool of that fairytale elf who spins straw into gold. Then they both laugh. Finally he speaks.
“Then I’m very pleased to meet you.”
His hand reaches out and finds hers.
“Me too,” she says, and by the way the words linger on her lips, he can tell that she’s smiling.

Winner – Adult Prose

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Gamble Yourself Away

By Kodi Sawtell

17 yrs

Coochin NSW

It was the sounds and the lights that drew me in. The tings, the whistles, the promise of joy. The intoxicating promise of thrill. I could taste it as I stepped into the multicoloured room. My eyes shifted constantly about the space, soaking in every flicker of light and noise as my fingers started vibrating.
My chest was tight, whether it was excitement or a warning sign, I was beyond caring.
I approached the closest empty chair avoiding acknowledging anyone else in the room. Sinking into the leather, I looked up to the brightly lit screen before me. It was mesmerising, like it held every promise in the world.
Suddenly my pocket felt heavy, and the heat of the coins started a slow burn in my scuffed denim jeans and like a miracle, my fingers stopped twitching as they wrapped around the warm gold.
I withdrew my hand, gripping the handful of coins, and without pause I piled them one by one into the machine before me. The clunk as they fell was so satisfying, like nicotine to my lungs. Once my hand became empty my fingers immediately hovered over the buttons, and without hesitation came down on the centre one.
“PLAY!”
The hours flittered by without my knowledge of their passing. I barely registered people coming and going, or the staff arriving to give payouts. I absently signed my name when one came in for me, overwhelmed with the thunder of my heart as they passed over my winnings.
It was like I was in an euphoric haze, part of me knew what I was doing wasn’t good but I just couldn’t stop. By the time I came too with a glance at the clock, it had been four hours. My stomach took its cue to begin screaming for food, but I choose to ignore it. I dug into my pocket for more coins and my fingers grasped only cloth. I buried down the shame until I only felt numb and desperate. Slowly I got up and trudged to the exit of the room emerging into the buzz of music and conversation. I blinked a few times and then spied the ATM in the far corner.
I swiftly moved towards it bumping into people and tables like a drug addict scenting a score. I arrived before the ATM and reached for my wallet barely noticing that the shake of my fingers was back.
Insert. Pin. Cash. None.
I rubbed my gritty eyes and waited for the world to right itself. I could feel my shoulders struggle under the weight of what was happening, but I couldn’t give up. I should have been panicked about not having the rent money, food or being able to pay the overdue phone bill. But the desperation I felt was not for tomorrow but to return to my machine before it paid out my winnings to someone else, not me.
A shout of joy came from the pool table and from the corner of my eye, I watched as one man gave the other a fifty slyly through a handshake.
I barged my way through the crowd and approached the winning man. “I’ll play you for a hundred.”
The man looked up suspiciously, his cool calculating eyes resting on mine. “Money up front.”
I refused to show my shaking hands, “I’m good for it.”
“Needless to say, that night didn’t end well.” I said more to myself then the audience before me. “My name is Cameron and I’m addicted to gambling. It has been thirty two days and five hours.”

Winner – Young Adult Prose

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Escape to Australia

By Khavayi Vivian Dunn

11 yrs
Sale, Vic

Today is Australia Day. I am six years old. This day is very significant for me and my family.
My new (adoptive) parents were missionaries in Kenya for ten years. They had been trying to adopt me and my brothers for years, but because there was no adoption treaty between Kenya and Australia, it took a lot longer than it was supposed to.
Finally when the adoption came through, we had problems with the Kenyan administration who was grumpy with foreigners. The new Kenyan President was being charged with crimes against humanity in the International Criminal Court. As revenge he started causing trouble for foreigners. He made it difficult for foreigners to adopt children. They said that my brothers and I were no longer Kenyan citizens and that we needed to leave the country as soon as possible. They refused to give us passports and gave us travel papers instead, that were only good for a month. They were to expire on January 18th! The government refused to renew my Dad’s missionary visa, so that my parents would now need to rush through the Australian regulations to get us to Australia. It usually takes a whole year to get an Australian visa. Two weeks later Dad had to leave Kenya because his visa expired and we were still waiting for approval from Australia. He went to Ethiopia.
Poor Mum had to fill out all the paper work by herself. Mum also took us to get some medical tests done to make sure we wouldn’t be carrying over any diseases to Australia. I hate medical tests! The delay was seriously threatening to kick our parents out of Kenya without us. Mum’s visa was also about to run out. Everybody in the family was very apprehensive.
Luckily over in Australia, in Tottenham, the town where our grandparents lived, one of the most famous men there, Noel Bennett, contacted the Department of Immigration, to ask for special treatment so that we kids would not be left in Kenya on our own. They also asked the local member of Parliament to help. The three of us kids all felt very anxious, it was getting worse every day.
Luckily Mum was able to renew her visa for a month, but Dad had to be out of the country for a long while before he could even apply for a tourist visa to Kenya.
Dad, could only come through on a transit visa which is only good for three days.
After only three weeks we got our Australian visas – on January 9th. We were ecstatic!
We went through the rushed process of moving out of our house and booked our tickets to Australia.
Mum and my brothers and I would be able to join Dad at the airport and fly out together.
It was very exciting being on a plane. There was really nice food and on the back of the seats, there were little i-pads that you could play video games and movies on. It was luxurious!
We arrived in Australia on the 18th of January, the same day our travel papers expired. I felt VERY relieved.
We were all at the pool commemorating . Most of the people from the little NSW village called Tottenham were celebrating Australia Day at the pool too. They were very compassionate. Besides them celebrating, it was their chance to meet us and our chance to meet them, because they had heard so much about us. They had a parade at the pool and one of my brothers (who was six) got up and joined the other kids in the parade. We were all surprised that he was so dauntless.
We have now been in Australia for five years.
I have three brothers who are Kenyan like me. The oldest brother is 23. His name is Sam. He lives with his girlfriend, who is due to have their first child in a few weeks. The baby’s name is Xavier. My other two brothers and I are very excited because we will be aunties and uncles and we are only 11.
People call us triplets. The oldest of us “triplets”- his name is Moses. He is 11. His birthday is in October. The other brother’s name is Brian. He is also 11. His birthday is in November, one day before mine. Lucky last, but not least, is Vivian (the one who is writing this). I am 11 and my birthday is on November the 19th.

We all come from the same Luhya tribe. We all have different birth mothers. Our birthparents left us at the same hospital when we were babies because they couldn’t look after us. I do not feel very sad about it. I’m very happy with the parents I have.
When Moses, Brian and I were about 3 or 4 months old, we left the hospital and were taken to an orphanage that was run by a Canadian couple. We were at the orphanage for about a year. There were at least 40 babies including us.
We were 14 months old when we were fostered by a white Christian Australian couple. They’re very nice. They went on to adopt us, luckily.
We stayed in Africa until we were 6 years old. Our grandparents would take it in turns to come and visit us from Australia. It was fun.
If Mum and Dad weren’t able to get out in time before their visas ran out we would have been orphans again.
I am very obliged for them adopting us and also all the others who helped us along the way. Our parents and grandparents have made a huge impact on our life. We were very lucky.
I will never forget this momentous event in my life.
Put together with lots of love and emotion.

Winner – Junior Prose

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Edge of Extinction

By Jack Straw

10 yrs
Neutral Bay NSW

The animals were resting in their idyllic habitat, unknowing that their peaceful home was about to be shattered.
It was a beautiful autumn evening the lush trees and green grass were swaying in harmony with the whispering wind. The fluffy white clouds gathered in the pink, orange sunset, the colourful birds chirping joyfully to one another whilst the lively forest spoke to its cheetahs that hunted its gazelles that grazed gracefully on the green grass.
As the night’s shadow silently fell across the forest canopy to the damp floor beneath, the bird’s caws abruptly stopped and the antelopes found safe places in the caves of secluded areas. Now is the time the hunters of the night start to awaken bringing with them a sense of menace and fear as the darkness deepens and the eyes of the hunters glow in the growing darkness of nightfall like diamonds in the sky.
The next morning the forest was woken by unknown noises. Huge yellow tractors were ferociously charging down every ancient and beloved tree. As each tree was pushed to the ground, dirt was thrown into the air and fell into the clear lakes that turned into rivers of mud. The animals chatted anxiously to the forest and then a distressed call of a chimpanzee raised alert to his fellow companions. All animals, big and small scattered across the forest floor in all directions seeking a safe place, while the monkeys swung branch to branch in the tops of the thick canopy of remaining trees. The slick black fur of the chimpanzee rustled in the gentle wind, his sombre green eyes took one last look at the destruction of his old home before he bounded off into the distance.
The mechanical beasts destroyed the forest and its trees, squashing trees hundreds of years old and ripping down the canopy like it was a spider’s web. There was never an end to the day, white suns would always arise when night wanted to arrive.
Then one fierce night, when the moon was at its apex and the wind was howling like a silver wolf, the white suns came tumbling down like the trees they had uprooted. The mechanical beasts struggled on with their evil doings as the downpour of much needed rain lashed down. The roaring thunder and laughing lightning BOOMED and CACKLED. Suddenly the lightning violently struck the tallest tree still standing, which came crashing down on a vicious yellow tractor sending it darting into the night sky and when it came down it exploded like an erupting volcano.
Sparks flew into the sky like fireworks and the nearest trees caught fire, extending the reach of the fires burning flames. As the flames engulfed the lush leaves and long branches they snapped and plummeted to the hard, burning ground. The burning bark fell to the ground bringing with it its firery ashes. The blazing fire quickly ran through the forest like the road-runner and the night sky was lit up like a fireball for miles and miles.
The next morning the rain had stopped and the land was deadly quiet. The yellow tractors had been destroyed along with the forest. The animals slowly crept out of their safe places to see what was left of the lush green forest, but all they could see was black. Scanning the area, they took their last depressing look of what was their home and went their separate ways. The gazelles and the antelopes cantered off to surrounding grasslands, the birds flew into the cloudless sky, and the lions and tigers walked silently to their own secret places. When they were all gone, the forest seemed lifeless.
Many months later new life was growing and out of the blackness came lush green leaves and branches. The slick eagle was the first to notice his forest returning and he was the one who told the animals that they can come back. The next day the rainbow birds were flying in, and the gazelles and antelopes were elegantly galloping into their old home. The forest was starting to have a kingdom again all it needed was rain and the rest of the animals.
That night the chimpanzees returned to their canopy of lush leaves, there were no suns to interrupt them tonight and the night hunters returned in the silence. The white moon glowed in the night sky and the wind blew softly through the new leaves, the birds chirped a lullaby and the forest was calm and then asleep.

Winner – Junior Prose

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Dinosaur Adventure

Joshua Kruger

7 yrs

Bronte, NSW

In a city there was a house. In the house there was a professor. The professor worked for P.E.O.D.W. (Prehistoric Explorers Of Different Worlds). He was also a philosopher.
The professor had a backpack, brown eyes, shorts and a T-shirt. On the outside he looked normal but on the inside he was different. He had a drawer of underpants with pink teddies on, which he always wore on a lucky day.
Today was a lucky day. The professor had made a time machine. He was on a mission. The mission was to find a real life dinosaur egg shell. The professor took a deep breath and stepped into the time machine. He closed his eyes and waited. Still waited. He felt excited and nervous at the same time. He finally opened his eyes.
His chin nearly touched the ground in amazement. There in front of him was a real life dinosaur egg.
The professor slowly walked towards the egg. He suddenly felt like the sun had been blocked. He was shaking from head to toe. Ever so slowly he turned around. Before him was the most terrifying monster of all. The professor noticed it had scaly skin and a long tail, three fingers and two legs. He realised it was a dinosaur!
The professor ran for his life. He ran and ran until he was sure that he was safe. He stopped, looked around and began to walk back to the dinosaur. As he came closer he saw something he had only seen once before. A real life dinosaur egg. The same one he had seen when he arrived. The egg then began to hatch. A red claw and a flat nose popped out, followed by a little head. A red hand with smooth scales came next. A baby dinosaur!
The professor watched in awe as the egg hatched. The dinosaur who was now a mummy plodded over to the professor. He stayed very calm and walked closer. The dinosaur looked at him nervously through hazel eyes. The professor realised she only wanted to be friends.
The professor told the mummy dinosaur about the mission. She nodded thoughtfully. She picked up a piece of the dinosaur egg shell and slowly dropped it into the professor’s hands. He thanked the dinosaur and gave her some meat that she gratefully ate with her baby.
The professor set up camp under the moon. The next morning he said goodbye to the dinosaur and its baby. He climbed into the time machine. He smiled as he thought of his adventure.

Winner – Junior Primary Prose

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Moments

By David Campbell

Aireys Inlet, Vic

When the tide turns there is a moment
between breathing out and breathing in,
the swell of a force beyond reach.
Time’s heartbeat is still. Birds,
tossed like confetti, hover,
wind-pinioned
against a sky of startled clouds,
suddenly caged. Memory ebbs
and flows: a boy, Jim Hawkins,
cradled by the feathered lightness of morning,
digs for treasure in the sun-drowned sand.
His innocence has no rules. It is enough
to know the wind and waves, the soft hum
of afternoon, the diamond splash of night.

In a lover’s embrace there is a moment
when two bodies moving as one
are locked in the warp and weft
of limbs, eyes dark except for each other,
and a new universe is born: stars drift
on the ocean’s heave, bowing gently
to a billowing sail and a following wind.
All mysteries are as nothing, grains of sand
on a distant shore, the only truth a whisper
of skin in the sweet delight of being.

With a baby’s first cry there is a moment
when tiny fingers clutch at air,
reach blindly, and you know,
as you have never known anything before,
that miracles have shape and form. One touch
hurls thoughts through the years: a girl
writes her name in wet sand and laughs
as questing tongues of foam-lipped water
wipe the slate clean. You are smiling,
a father’s pride borne on a zephyr breeze
as dappled cloud hunts its shadow.

When a daughter leaves there is a moment
of awakening as the world turns
more slowly, shifts north to south, east
to west, and the sun burns bright
in a midnight sky. She is theirs, not yours, lost
to the wonder of otherness where hopes ride
a rollercoaster of dreams: a partner waits
where the sky meets the sea and summer sleeps
in the arms of a child building castles of sand.

In the autumn of years there is a moment
when the body draws into itself,
hunching a jacket around its shoulders
in recognition of mortality. Winter’s breath
beckons. A miracle has its reckoning:
footprints in the wind-whipped sand
mark shallow impressions of passing,
until the relentless turn of the tide
obliterates them.

Winner – Open Poetry

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A Lantern in the Window

By David Campbell

Aireys Inlet, Vic

There’s a lantern in the window, shining brightly through the night
as a symbol of a refuge that can offer warmth and light,
bringing comfort, food, and friendship, all the things that we love best,
so a traveller who’s weary might enjoy a good night’s rest.

It’s an ancient kero lantern, stained with rust that shows its age,
a reminder of an era torn from some historic page
when the bullock teams hauled timber from the mountains to the plain,
or were gathered at the railhead loaded up with wool and grain.

She appears, your smiling hostess, and she asks about your day,
making cheerful conversation: “Have you come from far away?”
Did the weather treat you kindly? Was the traffic not too bad?
Would you like to have some supper, as it’s quite a trip you’ve had?”

When you’ve satisfied your hunger you might stay and chat a while,
for you wonder at the story that is hidden by her smile,
and the hand-sawn timber cabin — what’s it doing way out here,
where there seems no other dwelling, or at least not one that’s near?

If you’re lucky she’ll make certain that there’s nothing you require,
then she’ll settle very slowly in the armchair by the fire
and convey you on a journey to one hundred years ago,
to the day her mother’s father marched away to fight the foe.

“It was he who built this cabin as a home for his young bride,
where they spent six years together, with my mother by their side,
but the war then cast its shadow, taking toll upon them all,
for although he hated bloodshed, he responded to the call.”

“I recall my mother weeping when I asked her what she saw
at the station on that morning when her father went to war,
and she talked of crowds of people, of the sound of hissing steam,
of him waving from a carriage, of it seeming like a dream.”

“She remembered someone singing, and his kiss upon her cheek,
as he held her very tightly and she struggled hard to speak.
Then his voice became a whisper as he said I tell you true,
keep a lantern in the window and I’ll come back home to you.

“As the weeks and months were passing they were desperate to learn
what had happened. Was he wounded? Was there hope for his return?
But there’d be no happy ending, for he vanished in that hell,
just one more among the thousands lying buried where they fell.”

“Try to picture it, the waiting, as the months slip into years,
as the doubt becomes conviction, and the hope is lost in tears,
but the lantern is kept burning by my mother, for that flame
is a beacon in the darkness, so he’s more than just a name.”

“If it burns then he’s still living, in her memory at least,
and her faith grew even stronger, a belief that never ceased,
for she used imagination to create the life they had,
a whole world of joy and laughter so she didn’t feel too sad.”

“Then I promised I’d continue with the practice she’d begun,
and I’d keep the lantern burning, just as she had always done,
so no matter where you’ve travelled, you’re my soldier in the night,
and my battered old bush lantern bids you welcome with its light.”

Winner – Bush Poetry 

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The Big Day

By Maksimir Saravanja

11 yrs

Roseville, NSW

Gillespie Field is where it all started
Track and field excellence, while staying kind hearted
The trials were held and the keen ones attend
And all for a turn to be best in the end

The finals decided, the date was all set
We packed all our gear and started to sweat
Who would win, and who would do well?
We talked a tough game, but no-one could tell

Boys loaded the early bus in a constant stream
All mixed in – regardless of team
Excitement was high, all through the bus
But we all arrived with a minimum of fuss

Filled with dreams, we flowed through the gates
Ready to try, and cheer on our mates
First were the field events, long and high jump
Discus was next, boy they land with a thump!

Track events started once the next bus arrived
The 200, 100 – everyone strived
To be the fastest, the fittest, the first over the line
They ran and they sprinted, with not even a whine!

The relays were last, and everyone cheered
Boys yelled from the stands where our colours were tiered
Burns and Lang on the left and up top of the stands
Ewan, Haslett and Fuller, nearer long jump sands.

The best on the day were then celebrated
Ribbons were given, and points allocated
We all held our breath as we wait at the field
As the team was announced that goes home with the Shield

Burns was the winner – again, what a treat!
I felt a little sorry for those in defeat
Home we all head, to dwell on our dreams
Some a little sad, other’s faces’ in beams!

Winner – Junior Poetry

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Where Did They Go?

Joshua han Park

8 yr. old

Eastwood ,NSW

The pencil next to me.
Where did it go?
The books next to me.
Where did they go?
The water bottle next to me.
Where did it go?

Chatting is gone
Jokes are gone
Smiles are gone

Tick tock tick tock same days go by…
Hustling and bustling the same movements
I am looking for hidden pictures

The name on the wall is still there
Drawings on the table are still there
I only have the missing heart

Today my best friend went away to another school.

Winner – Junior Primary Poetry

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