narratorAUSTRALIA Volume One Read online

 

  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

  Big Moon Rising

  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

  The World Of Growth

  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