Rory Burg, 8 Winner, Community Relations Commission (NSW) Award, 2008 Kingswood College, Boxhill, VIC Saba Vayani-Lai, 16 Runner-Up, Senior Secondary, 2009 Glenwood High School, GLENWOOD NSW Sleep-washed A Painting of the Universe In my Dreamtime heart There is a boy like me. Red desert dust between his toes In the gloom of outback sunset He sits in chestnut sand. His chocolate skin glows In moonless starlight Of an expanding universe. Memories of Corroboree Chorus, Stomp and stamp inside his soul. The dreaming visions of a murky cave Come down from black hole night. Fingertips stroke the stones silver surface Opal jewels of the universe shine at him, Colours of never-ending beauty. His spirit is lost there, waiting forever. We sit together; 2000 years apart. The same meteorites cross a shining sky. Gum trees burn and wattles bloom. And he is not forgotten. Inside an opal cave My friend’s imagination lies Like a Dandenong breeze Or the peppermint taste of rainforest. We hold hands in ginger sunset skies And meet in bronze storms on Jupiter. My ancient brother will always live Inside me. This, This simplicity, This sleep-washed morning, The raindrops dancing gently Upon soft glass, Reflecting the sleeping forms of Living poetry, Of us, Lost in a mindless tangle of limbs and Sheets and sticky puddles of light. At last, Letting the words and the yearning finally, Finally, Spring from the page and into motion, Into reality, Into this tangible mess of feeling, Lazily looped not in ink, Not in restricting monochrome and colour-starved paper, Not caged in the heavy iron lattice of forced rhyme – But in the mixing of our breaths, In the mingling of a million miniscule atoms, Air cocktails slipping, shared, Between our lips. And then... I feel the resignation festering, Wild mushrooms growing in sad lumps, slow and hungry, Around my tired heart – Such joy, Such interdependent joy, It cannot last. It can only cling As raindrops do to a spider’s web, Desperately hoping the wind doesn’t lose Her temper. But I have traced stars With fearless fingertips – Traced that pale harmony between living and Expressing In the creases and valleys Of your skin. To have known such joy, Even just for a moment It is enough. This, This simplicity, This sleep-washed morning, I watch our lazy forms reflected In rain-speckled glass – All drowsy smiles and Poetry, Alive at last. Miranda Allender, 11 Runner-Up, Upper Primary, 2005 St Michael’s Collegiate School, Hobart TAS As I Sit Once I looked out On a world where water was life and hope Laughter, fun and games Flowed through grassy fields Smiles spread across my parents’ faces Dams overflowed Corrugated tanks brimmed As water trickled down the side Magnificent marsupials with coats of chocolate Leapt with glee, nibbling on lush pasture Happy conversation at dinner Food was abundant and varied Satisfied sheep thrived on fertile terrain Lambs frolicked, joyful and carefree Wildflowers dotted the bushland Like vivid stars in the sky I remember picking a velvet flannel flower And placing it between the pages of my book Waiting for the sound of pounding rain And the taste of fresh water With fading memories of my past world Where water was plentiful If only... But now As I look out On a world marked by fears and tears The sun’s blazing rays burn the outback While the vibrant sky never cries tears of rain Gums stand on stiffened, sunbaked soil Once majestic, but now stark A cracked, clay dam bottom revealed by drought Hollow, water tanks echoing Bare feet pattern dry dust that Sifts through fingers like flour in a sieve While parched kangaroos with joeys Seek the canopy of a tree Solemn sheep in powdery, ochre fields Feed on shortened tufts of arid, yellow grass “Fifty cents a sheep,” the auctioneer cries But a bullet is cheaper Cheery wildflowers have vanished I look inside To a home wrapped in pain Raised voices echo throughout corridors Fear in my parents’ eyes Our farm under death’s veil Tension and furrowed brows at the dinner table I go to bed hungry and invisible Praying constantly for rain My spirit crushed Like the pressed flannel flower I hold in my open book I have withered and wilted Like the beauty of its faded petals Curling in agony in the corner of my bed Emma Dell, 12 Winner, Upper Primary, 2008 Brooke Avenue Public School, Killarney Vale, N.S.W. Chasing Rainbows Withering, Withering, Locked in an infinite embrace with dreams. Her determined putter had abated to a doleful, languid hobble, Before she became etched into immobility, one with her throne. Gran’s fire was vanquished, ashes blown away. My Cedar Tree’s last few leaves had fallen from the boughs. And now I ask myself, Where is Gran now? Well she’s chasing rainbows, To infinity above the yonder. Gran slouched in her armchair... Who knows what cogs and wheels Were pivoting around On the rusted frame of her mind, Sheathed in skin of mangled leather, Masked, by those penetrating eyes of slate? I called her the ‘Cedar Tree,’ Sturdy and gnarled, a figure of fable, Wrinkles embroidered into her skin By the calloused hands of ageing, Whose fingers work all too nimbly and deft. She told me stories, in rasping and wheezing, Of her, taming lions, devouring fire, Swimming into the sunset – always, Fingers groping wisps of memory, so skilful at evading her spindly clutches. Yet I missed her chortling magpie warble, And the way it frolicked from her wizened maw. She used to lean over, bleached rope tresses Dangling limp, And whispered to me of what it was like, Jessica Rose, 9 Commended, Lower Primary, 2013 Chairo Christian School, DROUIN VIC My Library It is only a room with shelves and books, but it is far more magical than it looks It's a jet on which I soar to lands that exist no more Or a key which I find answers to questions crowding my mind Building my habit of learning and growing, asking and researching till I reach knowing Here I've been a mermaid and an elf. I've even learned to be more myself I think that I shall never see a place that's been more useful to me With encouraging kind friends who tell me to dream big and never quit It's only a room with shelves and books, but it's far more magical than it looks!