Saltwater by Charlotte Olsen 7F

Posted onCategoriesUncategorized

The scent of the salt water was overpowering. Michael didn’t let on that he was scared. The birds swooped low, creating a bubble of discomfort in his stomach as Michael gazed out over the ocean, trying to hide the fear in his eyes.

Her turned and hurried back down the steps along with his sisters, Milly and Grace. The way the green waves rolled in and out made Michael feel nauseous. This wasn’t where he wanted to be.

Heart pounding out of his chest, Michael slowly took one agonizing step at a time. The sand was soft under his feet, slipping through his toes.

‘Why must I do this today?’ Michael said with tears welling up in his eyes.

‘Because, this is ridiculous Mike. It’s the ocean. You can’t be scared’, Milly answered pushing him towards the shimmering water.

‘Wait!’ Michael screamed.

‘What lame excuse are you gonna put out now?’ Grace said, disappointed.

‘I’m hungry. Too hungry to swim!’

‘Whatever, little dude. What are you hungry for?’

‘Burgers’, Michael said all bubbly and bright.

They walked down the boardwalk along the beach until they reached Burger King. They ordered lunch, and then sat down at a small table by the window.

‘Here’s your meal. I hope you enjoy it’, said the pretty waitress with whom Michael immediately fell in love. After lunch they slowly walked back down to the beach.

Although Michael was scared, he always knew that his sisters were right. Milly and Grace were identical twins and the best of friends. They did everything together, from shopping to doing schoolwork. They were never apart.

After changing into some boardies, Michael took a big, deep breath in ….. and out.

‘Okay, I’m ready’, Michael said shaking with fear and regret.

‘Great. Okay, now take one step at a time. The ocean is our friend, it won’t hurt you’, Grace and Milly said, comforting him.

He plunged one foot in the water. It was cool and refreshing. He took another step deeper. The water was now up to his waist, swirling around his legs.

‘Okay, you’re doing great. Now duck dive under’.

‘No, I can’t’, said Michael.

‘Yes you can. You’ve come this far’.

Michael placed his hands out in front of him and took a deep breath in. Splash. He was now under the water. The ocean was so vigorously revitalizing. The cold water rushed around his skin. A wave rolled over him and he jumped back up to the surface.

‘I-I-It’s amazing!’ Michael whispered quietly to himself.

Grace and Milly walked back to the shore smiling, leaving Michael alone in the water. Michael loved the salt water on his skin; he loved the feel of the water. He always liked swimming in pools but the ocean was different.

Everyday for the rest of the summer, Milly, Grace and Michael came back to that very beach and swam until dark.

The Baby by Eternity Schallhammer 7F

You open your eyes. It’s all blurry. The only thing you can see are blue blurry things running around and you hear beeping all around you.

You are being put into something warm and fluffy. Then you feel the loving grasp of your mother. You can smell her and she smells safe.

You fall asleep after a while in your mother’s arms. When you wake up, you can’t see, hear or smell your mother. It’s cold and you feel very scared and unsafe; you start to cry.   You hear someone walk into the room. Who can it be? The person picks you up and snuggles you close. It feels safe; it’s your mother.

A couple of day later, your mother says to you, “Time to go”.

Go where exactly?

She picks you up and heads down a weird moving machine. Then she walks outside with you in her arms. There’s something shining in your eyes.

“That’s called the sun”.

After walking for a while, you get put in a weird little chair like thing in a big, black motor machine. It’s a car.

After a nap, your mum says, “We’re here”.

Where is here?   What is this place?

She picks you up and unlocks the door. It’s home.

So where to next? By Whitney Smith

Where to next?
My mother had always told me “Life isn’t about finding yourself, life is about creating yourself.”
That’s how I found myself here, boarding a plane ready to head some place far far away. I was
ready to create myself. Life wasn’t always like this until one month ago I had an epiphany that I
needed to explore. Within the span of a week I had already booked my flight, quit my job and
packed up my confined shoebox Manhattan apartment.
As I left my apartment, I inhaled th
e aroma of the city and allowed the crisp winter air to overwhelm my senses for one last time. With the smoky smells of roasted chestnuts coming from corner vendors, the scent of flowers from a nearby park and the smell of coffee from a man standing nearby, I was content to say that I was
ready to move on. After waving down a cab I watched out the window as meticulously dressed
men and women hurriedly made their way to work. Bright yellow cabs zoomed past in every
direction and I suddenly realised that it was safe to say that I would miss this place a great deal. I
made my way through the crowds to my dingy $228 one way flight to South America. I slid down
into the soft material, relieved that I scored myself a window seat. I placed my sleep mask over
my tired eyes and held my breath in anticipation f
or this adventure to begin. “Still…no…bag!” A blonde haired girl exclaimed. The girl who now had a wide eyed expression flustered about looking for her ‘lost’ bag. She looked around my age or maybe even a few years older, the light layer of freckles covering her nose and the bronzing of her skin made it clear that
she had just come from a tropical climate.
“Is this your bag?” I asked heaving up a deserted bag caught in the luggage carousel. “You are a life saver.” She said looking relieved. “I have been waiting here for over an hour
watching bags be claimed. I haven’t even set foot on foreign soil and I’m already in a fluster.” She
said.”I’m Lexie” She smiled with an outstretched hand, signaling a friendly handshake.
I shook her hand in the reply of “I’m Maddy.

We had both just arrived in Jorge Chávez International Airport, Lima and had no plans whatsoever.
Lexie was Australian and had just arrived here from volunteering with students at the pathfinder
academy in Kiminini Kenya. Lexie, at 23 was a year older than me and just like me, was living out
of a backpack for several months. She had yet to decide where she was going and what she was
doing. The ten pages on Cusco and Machu Picchu in my Lonely Planet travel guide, were marked
up and wrinkled. I suggested to Lexie that I wanted to soon venture out and hike Machu Picchu.
Lexie, being a happy go lucky spirit quickly agreed to the suggestion and started asking the trip
advisors where we could get the cheapest bus to the centre of Cusco. The trip was planned and I
was ready… or so I hoped.
The bus trip from Lima to Cusco takes about 21 hours. We payed $163 soles which is about $50
US dollars for a comfortable seat in the confined space. We boarded the bus at exactly 2pm,
which meant that we would arrive in Cusco around 11ammountains-1031173_960_720the next day. The bus ride was long but completely fulfilled with the true essence of nature. Towards the end of our bus trip whilst winding through the mountains, I was awoken by a strange heavy jolt throughout the bus which threw people off their seats and sprawled them out on the floor scurrying to get back up. In this moment a thump of anxiety struck my chest and I frantically searched for Lexie. “llanta pinchada, llanta pinchada,” yelled the people on the bus. The muffled noises on the bus made it extremely hard for me to hear what was going on, and being a foreigner with little to no idea of the Spanish language was not much help either.
“Maddy, over here,” waved Lexie.
“What in the world is going on?” I said utterly confused.
“llanta pinchada, which means the old bus got a flat tyre, now some local guys are intensely
yelling in Spanish towards the bus driver.” She said gesturing towards the small group of men. I
watched as the men threw multiple hand gestures and frowned fiercely at the driver.
A small indigenous man ordered us all to get off the bus. Within seconds of grabbing our
backpacks, the bus accelerated vigorously down the small road, only fit for one car but generally
jammed with several. It is common in Peru for drivers to try and squeeze their vehicles through
the small road, I once read that two vehicles drive off the cliff every two weeks. So, there we were,
watching as our now ex bus driver jaggered down the road with a flat tyre, piling mountains of
dust on us as he drove away. It’s not a good feeling being stranded on the side of a highway, in a
town which had a name I couldn’t pronounce and that was a million miles away from anyone I
knew. But of course we carried on and decided that the only way was up.
We had now been walking for more than two hours and my feet were starting to blister.
“I…really…need…to…sit…down,” I said in between deep breaths.
“Agreed!” Exclaimed Lexi, resting her hands on her hips.
The walk was longer and more arduous than what we had anticipated. The good news, the daily
traffic had finally started to pass through. The bad news, this was only one car every 20 minutes.
So when we finally spotted a small red car barreling down the deserted road, we knew that there
was only one choice, and walking was not going to be it.
We climbed into the small car and were greeted by Renzo, our chubby driver. His bushy, grey
moustache looked as if it has eaten away half of his face and his eyes pierced a turquoise green
colour.
Once we finally arrived at Cusco we thanked Renzo for his generosity and payed him 20 soles for
petrol. We then made our way to the train station located at Poroy, just 20 minutes away from
Cusco and payed $77 USD for a budget seat.
Once boarding the train we sunk into our seats, thankful for being provided with comfort.
After travelling for 3 and a half hours we arrived in Aguas Calientes and stopped by a local hostel
for $88 soles a night.
The first light of the day was starting to appear and we started to pack our backpacks for our 4
day Machu Picchu trail. We caught the 7:30 bus to Machu Picchu and introduced ourselves to our
group leader, Reuben.
Reuben was a short middle aged man who’s face showed signs that he had spent too much time
in the sun over the years. He was missing two bottom teeth and smiled admiringly at the group
standing before his eyes.
“Can you believe that the Ancient Inca’s built this place by hand?” Whispered Lexi as Reuben
thoroughly read through the guidelines one more time.
I shook my head in response as I tried to take everything in, I didn’t want to close my eyes, not
even for one second, just incase I missed something extraordinary that happened along the way.
As the first rays peeked out behind the sprawling ruins over Machu Picchu, the centuries old city
changed shape right before our eyes and the intricate designs of the beautiful architecture
became clear.
There were eight people including us in the group. Reece and Debbie, a couple from Los Angeles
were travelling for eight weeks straight throughout South America, Pip, a journalist major believed
that the best way to write a story is to experience it for yourself, Carlo and Pete were two Italians
for-filling their lifelong dream of selling up and taking on the world step by step. Then there was
Sarah, who just like us, was fretting the idea of returning home and having to pick up the pieces
she left behind.
Reuben, our tour guide stopped the group to ask a question about the Ancient Incas.
“What is the Quechua spiritual law of ayni?”
“Reciprocity” I belted out, excited to finally be able to answer a trivia question.
“Kind of like, give and you shall receive.” I said impressed by my knowledge.
“Senora,” a Quenchuan women tugged hard on Lexi’s sleeve.
“Thanks, but I don’t need anything else,” replied Lexi who was now not paying any attention to
what she thought were sales people. We had encountered many poor women and children along
the trip who have tried to sell us anything, from shoes to coca colas, these people were extremely
desperate and the poverty we had encountered was brutal. By the time we had reached Machu
Picchu, we finally learnt to say no and move on. But this was different.
“Is that your money belt?” I asked the women in amazement, bringing Lexi down to reality.
The little woman persisted. Standing her ground at only five foot tall. She gestured at the money
belt and kindly placed it into Lexi’s hands.
Lexi took it from her outstretched hand with a wide eyed expression. A bundle of valuables rested
inside the small pouch and Lexi knew that this woman probably made less money in a year than
the amount of money Lexi had just tied around her waste.
Lexi reached down into her pocket and tried to place a tip in the ladies hand.
She was quick to refuse and Lexi and I finally realised that this was the law of ayni. This was the
indigenous Quenchuan version of karma. They believed that if you give you shall receive and that
one day the person who you gave your valuables to will come back and do the same for you one
day. Lexi squeezed the woman in a tight hug and stared down admiringly at her new jewels.
It was day two of our trip and so far everything was heading in the right direction. Day by day we
became closer with Sarah and our travel group. We were quick to learn that Sarah was studying
medicine and had already achieved three degrees at the age of 24. Machu Picchu was beautiful,
the mountains surrounding the ancient inca trail felt unrealistic. I almost felt as if this was all some
dream and that tomorrow morning I would wake up and have to face reality. As we walked
through the the highest point of the site we stopped to share fruit and nuts with our guide and
admire the amazingly preserved buildings and terraces. The breath taking jungle and mountain
views were infused by clouds drifting through the mountain peaks.
I looked up and thought what an amazing feat it must have been building this huge, beautiful
temple in such a deserted place.
“I don’t feel so good.” I said feeling nauseated.
I grabbed onto the railing as my head began to swoosh around in circular motions. My
surroundings were starting to confuse me as colours and sounds collaborated into one big
swirling motion. It was clear now that the altitude of Machu Picchu was not agreeing with me and
being 3,600 metres above sea level had hit me like a truck, and I sure was feeling it.
I woke up surrounded by three older indigenous women recording my temperature and delivering
thermal clothing. Where was I? What time was it? Where is everybody? Thoughts ushered
through my head as I tried to piece together what was going on. I propped myself up onto my
elbows and squeezed my eyes shut as a dizzy spell washed over my head.
“How are you feeling?” Asked Sarah who was sitting at the end of the mattress.
“Right now…I need a bucket,” I swallowed hard but the thump in my throat was just to big and I
felt to sick to even calculate what was about to happen.
After 3 more hours of restless sleeping and bucket breaks I was starting to adapt to the altitude.
I was greeted by two Quenchuan women who were holding a steaming mug that continued to
release a sweet scented smell every few seconds.
“Mate de Coca, for you,” said one of the woman smiling kindly as she handed over the mug.
“This is Cocoa Tea,” said Sarah, “The Quenchuan people believe that it cures all headaches and
illnesses, this will cure your altitude sickness.”
I sipped the tea allowing the sweetness to line the inside of my mouth.
The next morning I awoke to what sounded like, Lexie, shooing away some sort of animal. I
rubbed at my eyes, relieved that the altitude sickness had run its course. I stepped out side of the
tent to see Lexie frantically whipping a t-shirt around in the air.
“Go on shoo, get out of here,” yelled Lexie at a flock of wild geese.
Before I even had the chance to piece together what was happening a bundle of white wings and
loud honking hisses created a bizarre scene around me.
“Help, Maddy do something.” Lexie screeched as I watched in hysterics as a large angry goose
tried to uncontrollably peck at her harem pants.
I ran quickly back into our tiny tent and fetched a load of half eaten bread, ripping off a large
piece.
“Here little guy, come have a snack,” I waved the bread around slowly until the goose completely
changed direction and started heading straight towards me, that’s when I realised it probably
wasn’t the best idea.
“Run, run, run!” Screamed Lexi.
I squealed as I released the piece bread and watched as it fell to the ground a few metres in front
of me. The goose hurriedly ran for the bread as we hurriedly ran for the tent.
“My oh my, what in the world is going on?” Said Sarah, her hair a mess from just previously
waking up.
“We just went on a wild goose chase,” I said.
“Literally,” laughed Lexie.
Today was the last day of our trip and Reuben had just given us all a small stone each, saying
that each stone comes with luck and that we shall forever remember our trip in Machu Picchu as
not only a trip, but as an adventure.
Lexi and I said our goodbyes and traded emails with Sarah, before catching a bus back to Aguas
Calientes. The bus ride went by quickly and I tried to soak up the scenery one last time, but deep
down I knew that this wouldn’t be the last time I would visit Machu Picchu.
Freshly showered, I sat by my hostel window, inhaling the cool breeze flowing in from the open
window. The sound of rain drops pouncing off the roof next door and the soft chirps of nearby
birds created some sort of serenity, a sound that made everything stop in its tracks and for once I
realised I was no longer stressed about my career or things that happened months ago but I was
thinking about the present. I was finally okay with where I was and what was happening in the
moment. I was content. The wind softly blew my open blind before caressing my skin.
Goosebumps flicked on the outside of my arms, but I didn’t mind, the freshness of the air and the
new sounds and smells were comforting. This trip made me realise that life isn’t only about
creating yourself, it’s about the people your with, the places you go and the things you do and as
I sit by my hostel window I think about how different this trip would have been without the friends I
had made, without Lexie and Sarah, without the kind Quenchuan women and without the warm
welcoming I was greeted with within my time in Machu Picchu. Sure there were many alarming
events, the bus leaving us stranded, altitude sickness and a wild goose chase but now that I think
about it, that’s what made this trip a true adventure.
As I looked over to the other side of the room, there was Lexie staring at me directly in the eye.
“So where to next?” She asked smirking.

Off- track by Amy O’Donovan

Posted onCategoriesUncategorized

Off-track

I took in a deep breath and opened my eyes to still see my burger sitting dejectedly, a porcelain plate holding an immaculate gathering of the best ingredients between two pieces of crisp buns. My mind was whirling around like a tornado. I’ve done it again.

Overthinking and contemplating the destruction of earth. I guess it kind of made me feel better about my unfinished essay staring back at me profusely.

All I could remember was the persistent voice of my teacher Miss Szeto prompting her wired students to make it informative and convincing. I glanced at the few paragraphs I had started and instantly wanted to burn the pages.

A dictatorship? If you’re asking me what the worst scenario can be all caused by the one man in charge, I’d say an apocalypse without a doubt. Who knows how evil they are to start inventing the zombie virus to wipe out the whole population.

Now, the meaning of apocalypse truly is in the word itself… “The complete and final destruction of the world”. That’s pretty much what Hitler’s intentions were except for Germany itself and if you’re going to disagree, I’d highly suggest for you to go jump off the Westgate Bridge.

For swimming of course. You wouldn’t think I’d encourage suicide would you? Now back to the apocalypse – it wasn’t invented to create closer family gatherings or to make new friends. It’s there to get rid of everyone and everything you love… unless you’re sadistic as hell and enjoy watching your annoying little brother get eaten alive by uncle Ted. But other than that, you’re most likely going to get absolutely annihilated for being a cocky son of a bitch. Now, just because you watched “Zombieland” or “The Walking Dead” it doesn’t make you an expert unless you’re referring to yourself as being a talented dramatizer. These careless actions of pretend heroism and ‘preparation’ won’t even benefit you if your guide is “Shaun of the Dead” (one of the best zombie horror comedies by the way). Overall, careless actions in the real world is only going to earn that neighbour of yours a free meal.

Now how so? It’s all quite simple. Let’s just think of it as your unintentional sacrifice to that neighbour who turned rabid but is still conscious enough to remember that one time you forgot to mow his lawn so there you’ll find yourself as his prime target. One moment you’re asking Gerald how he’s feeling and the next you’ll find his teeth stuck into a chunk of your meaty flesh.

I was astonished from how off track I had gotten… well okay maybe not off track, just a completely irrelevant topic to the certain types of governments, but still.

Maybe if Miss Szeto puts it into a whole new perspective, she’ll realise that any kind of apocalypse is the result of the crappy government. Although that still doesn’t change the fact that I can’t hand this in, I mean just look at the content. As much as I enjoy feeding my apocalyptic obsession, the teacher sure as hell wouldn’t appreciate the continuous repetition of inapt ideas. Especially when the topic is based on the negatives of a Dictatorship for a persuasive speech.

I glanced at my cold sodden burger staring back at me forlornly, untouched and unloved. I had to finish this off before I could even think about eating that disgusting burger. This singular page contained one hundred and ninety one words of pure utter crap I did not want to part with. But I knew instantly that a quick kiss from my father’s lighter will help erase it in a much more satisfactory way.

There it sat, its orange coat prompting me to clasp onto it. So I did exactly that and with one instant flicker I held onto the page squinting at my microscopic, messy writing.

Is it really worth burning? I asked myself.

I paused for about two seconds before glancing at the due date.

No, it is not. What the hell am I doing? I chucked the lighter away and felt a sudden flash behind me. I could feel my back warming up rather quickly and that was when I knew something wasn’t quite right.

So I spun around and there I saw it. My mother’s favourite white lace curtains were dancing in a burst of angry flames and all I could do was stand there and curse my mother’s… non-favourite words. I couldn’t see or think straight, but as soon as I heard the familiar sound of stiletto heels pounding against tiled floor, I just about bolted to the kitchen.

I began screaming internally as I rushed to fill a bucket of water within the kitchen sink and I just about knew it probably looked like my eyes were about explode or pop out from their sockets.

I am internally and externally done for. I will never see daylight again if she finds out. Another click of heels sounded again and I heard her call “Lexi?” a hand grabbed my shoulder and I literally jumped out of my skin, dropping the bucket of water whilst spinning around to find my mother holding the orange lighter directly above me.

Her jaw was clenched and I could see the veins in her neck pulsing along with the blood vessels within her eyes.

I didn’t know what to do so I cracked one of those please-don’t-annihilate-me smiles and there she looked at me, straight in the eyes, deadest and menacing. She opened her mouth, teeth still clenched with her voice low she spoke,

“You… are so dead”.

 

 

 

 

Small Ducky Devils- By Autumn Sanders 9F

Writing to a prompt

Small ducky devils

Recently a certain outrageous picture has become quite famous—talked about by everyone online and off, from little girls to my grandfather to certainly even Mr. President himself. The reason that this picture is so well-known, besides the Pope sharing it on Facebook, stems from the fact that it is so damaging to our belief that humans are far superior in their intellect to every other species. The story behind the picture is that this group of ducks is out to free every duck in captivity by any means necessary. They even have a motto: “ducks aren’t food, that’s just screwed”—although nobody seems sure whether the ducks themselves came up with it, or an unnamed person.

You may not believe this insane tale, but I do. The lead duck, the one rudely poking his head in front of the camera, happens to be named Vladimir… one of those names that just screams “villain”. Also, Vladimir has a crazy gleam in his eye. He looks unstable and seems to have no respect for the cameraman, sticking his beak up way too close. Respect? From a duck? That’s impossible, ducks don’t know what respect is, you may say. But remember, before now the idea that a group of ducks could ravage Victoria and successfully release their kin would have also earned you odd looks.

Nobody knows where Vladimir will lead his ducky gang next. They stick so very close together, as if they’re about to proceed with a hit-and-run, and a cloud of dust seems to follow them—they must be moving very fast indeed. The latest newspaper reports that the ducks were last spotted in the countryside of northern Victoria, heading south. Those online speculate that they are headed for the large-scale duck farms near Melbourne. Others say that the group may continue to free ducks from smaller family farms, where there is less security and therefore an easier escape. Or, heaven forbid, will they end up heading into your hometown, leaving deplorable conditions and duckless farms in their wake?

Hopefully sometime in the near future the world will be returned to its previous order. In the meantime, a message to all farmers, duck or not: keep close watch on your waterfowl! Perhaps hire a few bodyguards with experience in this area. If any ducks or chickens show signs of rebelliousness, put them in solitary confinement so they will not infect the minds of the rest. If the gang of small ducky devils is spotted in your area, make a plan to capture them and transport them back to where they belong. I’m sure you have a tractor or something that you can intimidate them with.duck

Writer’s competitions

Posted onCategoriesUncategorized

The following competitions are available for all students. Some have cash prizes. Check them out at the following addresses:

http://www.randomhouse.com.au/competitions/entryform.aspx?id=633

http://www.write4fun.net/

Why not put in an entry?

 

“Shoes”- by Alli Pereyra- Year 10

This poem was inspired by a visit from slam poet, Luka Lesson.

Dear Shoe,
When we first met, I thought we would last forever. You were strong and sturdy, your sole pure, and we fit together very well.
But then things changed.You were becoming weaker with each day, and soon……you broke.
I have to be honest with you. At first I was angry.I’d trusted you to support me and you let me down.
But now, I apologise. I am sorry for wearing you down so much, for putting so much pressure on you. Although I am frustrated that you couldn’t be stronger, I thank you for doing your best to support me each day,and I promise to do my best to be gentle with you,to trust you and to treat you with care.
Yours truly,
The small stinky foot who loves you.

“Mother bird” by Jasmine Steen – Year 7

Inspired by chapters 13-15 of the novel, “Blueback” by Tim Winton.
In this poem I wanted to explore the idea that…
•   The cycle of life will eventually come to everyone
•   Things change during ones lifetime
•   Memories can sometimes be the only thing someone remembers about a moment or another person
•   People will protect what they love
•   Not everyone is born into the same family, but it takes just the act of love to become apart of a different one and feel like you were born into it

MOTHER BIRD

Every second passing reminds me he isn’t home.
Age is defeating me.
The thunder, lighting and roar of the waves leave
scarring roars, booms, crashes in my mind.

Life is hard out here.
On my own.
Surrounded by my memories he has made with me.
Swimming with blueback.
Crying at the peppermint tree.
Collecting abalone.

These memories we’ve created are to be forever safe.
Blueback, the ocean, the land is safe.
Nobody can harm it.
It is as safe as an egg with its mother bird
guarded and loved with all of its life
as it should be.

Happiness, joy
love, luck.
Reunited.
The change, the protection.
She is ageing
When they stand next to each other
my body is washed over by the waves of change.
Pain, sadness
suffering, strength.
The crash.
The boom, the scream of pain, the tears.
The joy escapes away like the air quickly rushing from a burst balloon.

Plans have shifted.
The future is changed.
We are staying where we deeply belong.

Two of them now.
One beautiful yet as wrinkled as an old peach.
The other beautiful too,
yet looks as smooth as silk.

The laughter of all of us
together again where we all belong.
Home.
The stories, happiness, excitement when she wakes up is
joyful.
It feels like I was born into this family to begin with.

The memorial.
An extra cross is added.
She has gone.
So has he.
The bubbly, happy boy I love
is watching someone he loves wash away by the circle of life.
The circle of life has come upon us.
The pain has
hit him the most.

“Lessons Learnt” by Annie Stephens Year 7

I wrote this poem because it captures the ‘essence’ of the chapters 13-15 of Blueback by Tim Winton. I have delved into the ideas ‘it takes courage to stand up for your beliefs’ and ‘the sea’. I have given advice at the end about what I think the sea would tell us. Like the sea we have our days. And some days are mysterious. We have a surface which is entirely misleading, very different to the depths beneath. In the first stanza I am talking about the character, Dora. She stood up to people and taught us a very important lesson, that to outlast with a straight face and show corsage and persistence helps us win everyday challenges. Everyone should be as outlasting as Dora. Dora has survived so much and is now nearing the end of her wick thus ‘the fading candle’.

Lessons learnt

Strong.
Forever gone.
Outlasting all.

Shock.
Home is where the heart is.
Staying put is the way to learn.

Water lives in us.
We come from the depths.
Secrets, mysteries.

Origins start in the depths.
Upside down, the wrong way round.
Calmness, beauty, violence.

Unexpected happens.
Tearing, smashing, ruining.
History’s uncovered.

Lessons learnt.
Strong willed beings.
The fading candle.

Generations past.
Generations to come.
Water’s in their veins.

Abel came home.
Dora passed.
Dora came.

Lessons learnt.
To stay calm.
Outlast all.

Learn to cope,
With pests and antagonists,
And thrive in being you.