narratorAUSTRALIA
________Volume One________
Various Contributors
May to October 2012
A showcase of Australian poets and authors
who were published on the narratorAUSTRALIA blog
from May to October 2012
https://www.narratoraustralia.com.au/
First published November 2012 by MoshPit Publishing
an imprint of Mosher’s Business Support Pty Ltd
Shop 1, 197 Great Western Highway
Hazelbrook NSW 2779, Australia
https://www.moshpitpublishing.com.au/
This ebook (c) MoshPit Publishing on behalf of all authors listed in the Index.
Cover image: Orange Floral Background by Molotovcoketail, purchased from https://iStockphoto.com/
This book is also available in print. Please visit the narratorAUSTRALIA website for more details.
Contents
Foreword
Copyright Reminder
Index
Contributions
Bios and Contact Details
A brief history of narratorAUSTRALIA
Foreword
It is with great pride and pleasure that we bring you this first collection of short stories and poems from emerging and established writers across Australia.
From its humble beginnings as a locally produced quarterly print publication, what started as narratorMAGAZINE Blue Mountains is now narratorAUSTRALIA – a daily digital edition representing talent across a nation of more than 21 million people. This volume contains 215 poems and short stories written and submitted by 107 emerging and established writers published at www.narratoraustralia.com.au during the six month period 1 May to 31 October 2012.
As I was formatting these entries into this compilation, it was wonderful to revisit so many of the items which had brought me so much pleasure on first reading. It is amazing how, as you age, you tend to forget more than you remember!
You will notice as you read through that a few of the entries received Editor’s Pick awards. I am sure that for some of these items, many of you will agree wholeheartedly, and that for others, some of you will disagree with equal intensity! Each Editor’s Pick was awarded for the reaction the item provoked in us on first reading. These reactions weren’t always related to our emotions – sometimes they were related to how we were left thinking – so it may have been a case of thought, not emotion, which resulted in the award.
Looking back at these pieces now, I am still happy with the decisions, but there are other items which, perhaps, deserved something, a Highly Commended, or a Well Done, You! But I don’t want to turn narrator into a circus of teacher’s gold stars – it’s about having a collection of the best writing the country can deliver. And if there is the occasional standout piece (in our minds) then we will highlight that.
I need to assure you that these are not the only submissions we received. We ask for properly edited pieces, and only publish those that we feel have something original to offer, or which say it in a slightly more original way than the next writer might. So this is not a collection of everything which was submitted, only those pieces we felt deserved publication.
I also need to mention that while we give each piece a light proofread for more obvious errors, and try to format all to a reasonable consistency, time constraints dictate that there will be the occasional issue with spelling, punctuation or grammar. For these I can only apologise, congratulate you for knowing better, and remind you not to make the same mistake when submitting your work to publishers!
In this compilation you will find long poems and short stories, and long stories and short poems. Some have illustrations, some have explanations, others are just as they are. They have been published in date order, and there is a list of contributions by author at the back. Sometimes we published more than one item in a day, and on these occasions, you may notice a time stamp next to the date. If no time stamp, then the item would most likely have been published at 8 am Sydney time.
So please, turn the page and start reading … and when you have a moment, feel free to visit the website, or our Facebook page, and let the writers know if you enjoyed their work, and why.
And if you feel like submitting to narratorAUSTRALIA yourself one day, we would love to hear from you!
Thank you for your support of narrator and of the Australian creative writing industry.
Jennifer Mosher, AE
Editor-in-Chief
Copyright reminder
Please remember that every item in this book is the copyright of the attributed author.
Please do not even think about plagiarising these works or using them without permission.
If you wish to gain permission to quote from these works, or to use them elsewhere, then please contact us via our MoshPit Publishing website at https://www.moshpitpublishing.com.au/ if you can’t easily find contact details for the author in question.
The above also applies to the images supplied by the authors to illustrate their artworks.
Thank you.
Index
Author
Item name
Adams, Susan
In Clear Felled Fields Kookaburras Sit On Wires
Alannah
The House
Anderson, David
How The Bagpipes Were Invented
Poem For New York
The Barcoo Flood
The Last Hunt
Arkleysmith, Eulyce
Politicians Care
Pollies Pay Rise
Ashwin, Hettie
Black Socks And Matching Tie
Scabby Dawn
Assumpter, Irene
All Crystal
I Will Call It Solace
Odd Footy Boy
Baldry, Rosemary
X Marks The Spot
Beer, Don
Music
Blatt, Eddie
Bangla Road, Patong
Bridge
Untouchable Me
Brittain, Ann-marie
The House On Weary Traveller’s Way
Brooks, Nicholas
Shelf Life
Bundesen, Jean
Happiness All The Way
Memories
Railway Tracks
Byrne, Marina
Dr Who In The Kitchen Of My Childhood
Callaghan, Linda
Autumn Love
Dainty Daisies
Keeping In Touch
Carl, Aaron
Adequate Time
Chaffey, Robyn
Illusion
Isobel
My Name Is Gertrude …
Will Time And Tide Remember Me?
Compton, Ronnie
My Ward
Please Move Again
Craci, Theo
Dog
Craib, James
A Banquet In Venice
Back To The Future And Forward To The Past
Lost Illusions
Old Seadogs
The Prisoner Of Pilatus
Would You Like (F)lies With That?
Davies, Nene
Miss Understood
Demelza
Tim Tam Temptation
Downs, Noel
Best Friend
Doyle, Brendan
Nature Study
Train To The Airport, 10 September 2011
Edgar, Bob
In The Orange Light Of Early Morning
It’s Only A Myth
School Daze
Th
e Dying Game
Underground Melody
Yuletide
Falconer, Stephen
Left Upon The Steps Of Salvation
Letter To The Editor From A Vampyre
Fawdry, Merlene
Oblivion
The Pain Of Missing Her
Traces Of Glitter
Fermanis-Winward, Michele
Becoming Colour
Beguiled
Mountain Climbing
Freedman, C.G.
Re-Offender
G, Gordon
Picture
G, Mel
I Did Nothing Wrong
Gardiner, Alex aka The Auld Yin
Ma Wee Pawky Thing
Ode Tae Bonny Lass’s Braw
To Tea Or Not To Tea ‘Answered’
Whales In Motion
Gibbs, Russell
Still Mind Wanders
Girolamo, Hazel
Tudor Tonight
Goodwin, Peter
A Poem Written On A Window
Broken Vases
The First Journey
The Picture Frame
Govier, Mark
Diary Of A Meph-Head – An Extract
Killing Painting
Police Report On The ‘Dr’
Reactions 1
Gow, Virginia
Blackout At Blackheath
Once Upon Mt Wilson
Shadow Watcher
Hall, Emma
A Love Song
Content In Misery
Killed A Man
Lovers And Liars
Sami’s Babies
Heard, Ridley
Fame
Heks, Andris
From Billions Of Years Ago
The Ghosts Of Megalong
Hit, Vague
tyrannosaurus hex
Hollins-Cliff, Annabel
Tales From The Tall Man
Howard, Emmett
I See Darkness
Tangible Thinking
Howell, Connie
An Extraordinary Woman
Mirror, Mirror
Humphreys, Paul
A Slip To Eternity
Bird
The Boy’s Birth Night
Ince, Frank
Melanie Rents A Home
JAC
Amanda’s Fairytale
Creative Places
Darkness
The White House
James, Nicole
Something Of Nothing
Johnson, Amber
Fabulous Fairy Floss
Fifteen, Homeless And Hungry
Flustered
Gravity
Marionettes Of Despair
Tourism Australia
Virtual Obsession
Krone, Mary
Frangipani Galaxy
La Porte, Judith
Believing In Ghosts
Lance, Robyn
Baggage
Langford, Anthony J.
All Quiet In The Bell Tower
Lee, Crystal
I Ain’t Saying Goodbye
You Were Gone
Lee, Melanie
It Hurts How You Love Me
Loughran, Chloe
Bathed In Sunlight
Little Retro Cave
Nicole
Two Hours Till Sunday
Lucas, Alan
Mountain
Perry’s Lookdown
The Leaping For Joy Girl
The Legless Frog
Lynch, Felicity
In My New World
Rain
To My True Love
Maddever, Kai
My Plea, My Son
Mancy, JH
Not This Little Yellow Duck
Martin, Denise
Autumn
Seasons Of The Day
Massingham, Joe
Dispirited
The Morning After
McGloin, Barry
Faith
Repast
Fox Encounter
McMillan, Colleen
Heat
Merryjack
Mean Streets Dolly
Miller, Samantha
Material World
Miller, Samuel
Old Granny Nullius
Morgan, Jonathan
Taking Tea
Nickols, Lynn
The Weave, The Weft, The Warp
O’Flynn, Mark
Morris Minors
P, Alexandra
A Child’s Windows
Pant, Subroto
Reality Bites
Paton, Toni
You Can’t Go Wrong
Payne, Andrea
Nevada Desert
Reveille
The Missus
Portingale, Paris
Fealty – Or, The Art Of Being There For One Another
God’s Other Son
Purgatory
The Lunatic – Prologue
Pratt, Tamara
Saving My Butterfly
With Your Guitar
Ramsay, Sallie
Goin’ South
Knitting In Green
The Box
The Last Day
Twins
Reed, A.J.
Resignation
Renew, Sandra
Green Eyes In Afghanistan
Un believable (Sudan 2010)
Ridley, Pat
One Day
Sensible Fools
Rimeriter
Bluehole – Come Share With Me
Lightning Ridge
Two Lovers
Robertas
Blackshield
Down Reigate Hill
Five Thousand Galaxies
Is
Nervous Tic
Ross, John
A Floral Wreath
A Mid-Winter Sunrise
It’s The Small Things
The Veggie Garden
Russo, Jordan
The Reflection
Sargent, Susan
To Borrow Freedom
What We Leave Behind
Satori, Sonia
I Couldn’t Stay For The Celebration
Love Is A Verb
The End Of The Beginning – The Beginning Of The End
The Inheritance
Scorpio
J
Scott, Emma-Lee
Untitled #18
Singer, Ariette
Batting Eyelashes
My Solemn Promise
Our Chronic Problem
Smith, Tracey
Beyond The Glass
Smith, Winsome
Comfrey
Smithers, Alexandra
She
Soul, Jessica
Bird On A Wire
Sparks, Graham
A Moment In 1974
Bright Morning Full Of Hope
Chicken Dinner At The Roadhouse
New Xin Zhang
Send In The Infantry
Sing Me There
Studach, Stephen
The Funnels
Tanaka, Cathie
Between
Thubten, Yeshe
Reality In A Heartbeat
Weatherbeaten
Todd, Shannon
Eternal Devotion
Time
Turner, Claire
Great Spirit
Von Riegen, Kate-Michelle
Recognising The Signs
Walker, Vickie
So Many Grains Of Sand
Witham, Ted
Power Drunk
Withers, Ruth
Grandpa Dan
Shadows
Yuen, Kathryn
It Starts With A Big C And Ends With … Er
Zaunmayr, Tom
Peer Pressure
Tuesday 1 May 2012 8 am
Autumn
Denise Martin
Gisborne, Victoria
Autumn scents hang in the a
ir
Cool crisp mornings, days are fair.
Tumbling leaves of red and gold,
Orange, amber, brown unfold.
Piles of faded beauty smoulder,
Days are perfect, nights now colder.
Charred remains of autumn splendour
A winter coat for seedlings tender.
To rise again in spring to bloom,
Dispelling winter's chilly gloom.
Tuesday 1 May 2012 4 pm
Still Mind Wanders
Russell Gibbs
West Perth, WA
I rolled my smoke, lit up and inhaled
Each exhalation came in a burst of three
And between each puff of smoke
I licked my lips, without knowing why
Truly I tried to sit in the sun
And to think of things happy and bright
But my mind just kept returning to
‘fuck my life’ ‘fuck my life’ FUCK MY LIFE’
I wanted to be able to share with you all
The desire to find a dark cool corner
And sit and cut myself till the knife turns red
And stills my own small voice and its despondency
But apparently that’s just a cry for help
For attention, for sympathy; a pathetic cry
So I load up a needle with ink
And set to work defacing myself privately
Apparently the permanency of the ink
Is better than the fading red lines of blood
But at least I get the sensation
Of something, anything, and my mind sits still.
I still wish that I had something to rage
Against machine, man, injustice or hatred
But I am too self absorbed and introspective
And the only enemy I find readily is me ...
Russell says that at 29 years of age, and discovering that a life of music does not fulfil all artistic desires, he has adapted to turning phrase, ignorantly and inadequately trying to express what cannot be spoken.
Wednesday 2 May 2012
Twins
Sallie Ramsay
Torrens, ACT
It is a comfort to know that it’s more than probable that the next time I see her she will be dead. Watching her across the room, she’s so full of life. Laughing, tossing her head; flirting, showing Jonathan Service enough of her firm tanned breasts to set his blood racing. He is flushing under the acne he has had since adolescence and no doubt will carry into his dotage. Biggest thrill he has had for years as she leans towards him, breasts shaking as she laughs. It’s too much for Jonathan who hastily heads crabwise towards the door. She catches my eye, raises her eyebrows slightly, a faint smile crosses her face but is gone so fast I wonder if I imagined it.
My twin sister is outrageous and brilliant. You know the sort, always in the right place at the right time. Serendipity was invented with her in mind.
We share some interests and, coincidently, the same initials. I don’t think it was a deliberate decision by our parents; more likely they were so stunned by the arrival of two babies where one was expected they didn’t think at all. Now and again our mail gets mixed up but other than that there really isn’t a problem.
We live in that new development next to City Park and although we have keys to each other’s townhouses, for the most part we live separate lives.
You’ve probably seen my sister on one of the celebrity cooking shows, making enormously complicated recipes look so simple that anyone with half a brain, a wooden spoon and a primus stove could whip them up in nothing flat. But I will say this for her: she is one helluva cook. When the spirit moves her she fills my freezer with delicious goodies. I’ll miss that; pity.
I enjoy the finer things in life and despise those who don’t. I like my wine and women full-bodied. In addition, the women should be financially independent, compliant, appreciative of my skill as a lover and temporary. I find once women feel secure in a relationship they begin to express opinions on a range of topics about which they know nothing and, as a result, become irritating and boring.
Recently, I had the misfortune to fall foul of the family of a particularly full bodied, extremely compliant and appreciative woman. While spending a pleasant evening at one of the well-known nightspots owned by her family I, foolishly as I now know, accepted an invitation to join a friendly poker game. I pride myself on being a poker player of more than average ability but this night and, on a number of nights following, luck deserted me. I lost a small fortune, a small fortune I don’t have.
I recollect the exact moment when, through a haze of cigar smoke, I realised that this was no friendly game and that I had a large problem, a very large problem. I did my utmost to distance myself from her and from her family, but, just when I thought that bygones were indeed bygones, an embarrassing encounter in my favourite bar reminded me quite emphatically I remained very much in their debt. Remaining in this family’s debt is simply not a viable option, particularly if I accept the dictionary definition of viable as ‘capable of living’ and apply it to myself. It’s that kind of family.
When we were kids my sister and I were left a large block of land by a distant uncle. The only access was by a narrow sandy track crisscrossed by washouts deep enough to provide a challenge on the Paris to Dakar Rally. We camped there a couple of times years ago but a block covered with scrub leading onto a barren windswept beach certainly didn’t appeal to me. Neither of us went there or even thought of it for over ten years. Then, a couple of years ago, the local council approved what had been labelled ‘a pie in the sky’ proposition for re-zoning. The price we were offered for the block was impressive, very impressive, but when I suggested we sell, my sister, after making some very uncomplimentary comments about environmental vandals in general and ‘bloody developers’ in particular, refused to even consider it.
I spoke to her again yesterday about selling the block but received the same response. And later in the day I was reminded, by a visit from two of the biggest gorillas I’ve seen outside a zoo, I was still in debt to their keepers.
Yesterday, a letter meant for my sister landed in my mailbox. I opened it and skimmed the contents before I realised my mistake. She had had some tests done; something to do with sensitivity to insect stings. I remember when she was a kid she had a bad reaction to a bee sting; gave everyone a nasty fright. The tests results show she’s exceptionally sensitive to European wasps. Nasty. They are such unpleasant aggressive little beasts; very short tempered and my salvation. Trapping some won’t be a problem; the glass of coke I left on the table by the window should do the trick. I must remember to put the letter back in her mailbox