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A Secretive Sky LANDSCAPE, PLACE AND ME Writings from Arthur Phillip High School, Dubbo College Delroy Campus and Granville Boys High School
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Arthur Phillip High School Dubbo College Delroy Campus Granville Boys High School Published by WestWords Ltd PO Box 2327 North Parramatta NSW 1750 91B Grose St, North Parramatta NSW 2151 (02) 8677 4815 | admin@westwords.com.au www.westwords.com.au Copyright 2017 Š All rights reserved Without limiting the rights of under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be used without the written permission of the publisher. Photos by Michael Campbell, James Roy, participating teachers and students Graphic design by Luke Beeton and Christie Burmester www.sailorstudio.com.au
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A SECRETIVE SKY
Introduction In 2016 WestWords ran the inaugural Landscape, Place and Me program. The idea for it grew out of a conversation with Jennifer Dove, a teacher who had transferred from a Western Sydney high school to Lightning Ridge. Discussing these disparate groups of young people we were struck, not by difference, but by the similarities of the issues and experiences they were facing - issues around marginalisation, poverty and trauma, and how their growing understandings of the world around them were internalised. What was different was the landscape they saw out their front doors. The program was a significant success both in terms of their ability to express themselves through their writing as well as their growth as people. The feedback was fulsome, with students generously thanking us for how their lives had been changed. We wanted to be able to offer the same experiences to new cohorts of students. We were thrilled that Dusseldorp Forum agreed to join us. With their support we were able to expand the program to three schools: two from Sydney’s urban west, Granville Boys High School and Arthur Phillip High School and one from regional NSW, Delroy Campus Dubbo College. Acclaimed writer James Roy conducted writing residencies for each of the schools, exploring themes of belonging and environment and their place within their communities. The work generated from these workshops was exchanged for critiquing, but also to act as an introduction prior to meeting at Camp Cypress in Baradine, near the Warrumbungles. There they encountered many new experiences: new landscapes, new cultures and new friends. For many this was the first time sitting around a fire; toasting marshmallows; looking through a telescope to see the craters on the moon, the stripes of Jupiter, the rings of Saturn and new galaxies being formed; being close to a horse; being west of the Blue Mountains; meeting a Muslim, spending a night away from home and family for the first time...
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This publication is the result of translating these new experiences into the written form. It is an exciting exploration of friendship and belonging, of finding one’s place in the landscape, and of seeking to know the universe that lies within. We would like to thank all the teachers from all the schools who have supported us and the students through this journey, the warmth from those who made us feel so welcome in ‘their place’ including Ronnie and Auntie Pat, and finally to the bravery and generosity of the young people whose work you will read.
Michael Campbell: Executive Director WestWords
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Foreword “What a time to be alive!� We hear this all the time, usually in the context of technology. We can log on and read op-eds and news items that were filed mere moments ago; we can express a view in an instant, regardless of how much we know about the topic in question; we can Skype a family member on the other side of the globe; we can access information about practically anything, from devices we literally hold in the palms of our hands. But all of that is a weak substitute for meeting others face-to-face. Images of a place can never fully convey the real experience of being fully immersed in that place.
Before participating in this project, many of the students whose work appears here had never been further west than the Blue Mountains. Many others had never met someone from a place with the unique cultural diversity of Granville, Parramatta, or Dubbo. Some had never had the need or opportunity to understand what halal is, or a call to prayer. Others had never stood beside a campfire or toasted a marshmallow. Some had never noticed how big the sky is, and how small we are under a galaxy of stars. What a time to be alive indeed, when more people than ever are relocating to places like Western
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Sydney. What a time to be alive, when more than 150 diverse cultures can live in harmony. What a time to be alive, when our country is suffering yet another drought, and many rural Australians are wondering how much longer they can last. As humans we understand each other best through shared stories, and this sharing is what WestWords sets out to help young people do. This is my second involvement with the Landscape, Place and Me project, and of course with a completely new group of individuals I saw a different dynamic from the previous camp. But there were many striking
similarities, too – the learning of new skills; the meeting of new friends; the wide-eyed discovery of new places and truths; and yes, the sharing of stories, all of which adds up to enormous gains in confidence, both as writers and as social beings. One student summed it up in this way: “This week, I’ve learned that I’m not a perfect writer, but instead a writer in progress. I’m going on a journey to become a writer that I’m proud of.” And another said that the camp was “one of the best, most memorable experiences of my whole life.” I count that as a win.
James Roy
James Roy is the author of over thirty books for young people. Those books include several major award winners, including the WA Premier’s Book Prize, the NSW Premier’s History Prize, and the NSW Premier’s Literary Award (twice). He spends his non-writing time travelling locally and overseas, where he presents talks and workshops at schools, conferences and festivals. James holds a Masters in Creative Writing from the University of Sydney, and lives in the Blue Mountains.
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Dusseldorp Forum Dusseldorp Forum is an independent foundation focused on improving education, health and social outcomes for children, their families and communities across Australia. The Forum partners with initiatives demonstrating positive, long-term change for young people and brings disparate organisations together to foster collaboration and learning. We are proud to support the Landscape, Place and Me project. We’ve been so impressed by the passion, energy and purpose of the WestWords program. We can see enormous value in their work supporting young people to learn creatively across diverse cultures and backgrounds.
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WestWords WestWords provides pathways of opportunity for the development of Western Sydney voices through innovative literature and related arts programs. We believe literacy, self-expression and creativity changes lives and communities. WestWords is committed to providing an environment where the stories of the communities of Western Sydney and the places they come from are celebrated. The guiding philosophy of WestWords is a belief that the unique perspectives and stories of the Western Sydney area deserve to be celebrated, developed in literature and shared with a wider audience. We believe that engagement with reading and writing allows young people in particular to develop their imagination, gives voice to their stories and experiences, hones skills in written expression and illustration, and sets them on a trajectory for life. With a focus on literature, we deliver residencies, fellowships, workshops, performances, presentations and publications. Our partners include teachers, schools, universities, community and arts organisations.
WestWords is proudly supported by
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Dubbo College Delroy Campus Never did a group of high school students from Dubbo believe that by the age of sixteen they would be published authors. Yet, this is exactly what this project has made possible for my Delroy kids. I remember informing the class that we had been selected to be part of this year-long project. Initial reactions prompted some excitement, but for the majority, it instilled a sense of fear as my Delroy kids questioned if their writing was good enough, or creative enough, to be read by a wider audience. When James came to visit our school, a twinge of panic was evident among the group but quickly diminished as students immediately took to his personable approach and were inspired by his amazingly vivid and quirky tales. This translated into a palpable enthusiasm on behalf of the students to commence the ‘pen-to-paper’ journey. The camp was the perfect spring-board for the students’ creative writing to bloom and ultimately come to fruition. From the first writing session, I was inspired by how my Delroy kids bonded with the students from Granville Boys and Arthur Phillip High. They were surprised by how little the ‘city folk’ knew about the bush and were quick to teach them the intricacies of the age-old art of marshmallow roasting. Months later and my students still speak of the bonds that were forged through the collaborative writing process at Camp Cypress. Students have come to appreciate that when we write, we discover; we deepen our understanding of who we are and where we have come from. This journey gave my students purpose and drive to challenge themselves to take risks with their writing, to recognise that learning is not limited to the classroom, and that it is ultimately something worth sharing.
Rebecca Brown, Dubbo College Delroy Campus
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Arthur Phillip High School The opportunity for Year 10 students from urban Western Sydney to travel to the ‘Outback’ is not something that arrives every day. The enthusiasm for which the students from Arthur Phillip embraced the opportunity to work with James Roy and travel to Camp Cypress, Baradine to participate in Landscape, Place and Me was unprecedented. A week at camp for these students and teachers proved a challenge that would encourage them to take risks and forge lasting memories. The opportunity for students to come together, not only with peers they had not interacted with but students from other schools, provided the chance to develop both writing skills and more importantly the understanding of others. It was a pleasure as a teacher to see our students grow and foster these relationships, stepping out of their comfort zone and changing as young adults. This new experience was beneficial not only for their writing, but for their maturity as they have come to appreciate the experiences they have and the lives others lead. To travel beyond the comfort zone is an opportunity our students will always remember and be thankful for. Students learnt the true value of change within both the world and themselves, and reflected on the importance of this. The bonds created within the cohort, but also with the other students from different walks of life, are ones that will remain beyond time at school.
Shannon Atkins and Gareth Rennie, Arthur Phillip High School
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Granville Boys High School Over the course of the WestWords writing program this year I noticed that our students were almost always engaged and stimulated enough to persevere with their writing. I noticed that even before the boys went on the writing camp their friendship bonds began to grow stronger because of their shared experience in the project. During the week away they worked as a single unit to encourage one another to participate in each session, keep their cabin neat and tidy, entertain themselves, join in fun activities with the other schools and even cook for one another! There was a constant harmony amongst the students from the moment we left school to the moment returned and it continues today as they reminisce on their experience. As a teacher, this was very pleasing to witness and it made me realise the value of out of school activities for both learning and character building. Many of the boys had never crossed the Blue Mountains and when we drove through the wide plains on the other side they were astounded by the vastness of our country. Many questioned why anyone would choose to live in such isolation. These thoughts dissipated when I reminded them that
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if everybody chose to live in our capital cities we wouldn’t have anything to eat. The fact that there were students from a rural school for them to meet and talk to about their experiences, especially during the long drought, helped them appreciate the hard conditions country folk have to endure to ensure we have fresh produce in our supermarkets. I myself enjoyed the serene environment and ability to appreciate simple things, such as rain in an area that had not seen it in a long time and the stars that beautify our night sky. The students are now more confident to express themselves in writing and not hide behind their inhibitions. It is always difficult to encourage boys to write freely and with sincere emotion. I feel that the students who were involved in the project are now more capable of sharing their thoughts and feelings in a meaningful way. They are also more socially adept and able to make new friends easily, a trait that will help them succeed in the future.
Amer Etri, Granville Boys High School
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Drive to Baradine Seeing new sceneries New image saved Duale, APHS
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Cypress We had just packed the bus and were ready to leave our once noble city, now left to nothing but ashes. I wished I could stay here but the bombs were becoming too much for us to handle. It would have been faster to travel by plane or boat but the seas were being watched and the airfields were bombed constantly, so we started our long journey to a refugee camp called Cypress. We had heard so much about it – how the people there helped get people out of the city, and gave shelter to those who had arrived. I was excited as it gave us a new start. Along the journey I would notice little objects appear from the scenery that looked like a picture being dragged out endlessly. I was thinking it was just a wombat or kangaroo popping its head up to see what was passing until I stared at one and saw it was staring back at me. I soon realized it was a man in a bush watching us go by. I started to see more faces. I was scared at the thoughts that were entering my mind saying it’s a trap, run, get out of there, tell someone what was going on. Then I heard my teacher announce that it was five more minutes until we reached the camp, so I closed my mind, put my headphones in and just simply sat back in my chair waiting to reach Cypress. We pulled up to the place – I noticed that most things were dead, not by bombs or humans, but from thirst. The trees and ground were so dry you would hear cracks just walking. I was nervous, thinking the ground was going to collapse, until my eyes caught a group walking towards us. It was the camp leader, and kids like us behind him. He introduced us to everyone and told us the rules; after that we had free reign to go where we wanted as long as it was in the boundaries. I kept on thinking about my family back in the dead zone and how they might get out. I turned around and saw that this was for the better. Everything had changed for me – the land, the trees, the people – but deep down I knew that this change was for the better.
Tai, GBHS
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Diverted Minds At home looking up above at the hazed night sky, all I see is the city’s high rise buildings covered in smog. Slithers of lights peeking through our city air. Glaring up at the disco lit sky I know there has to be more past our self-polluted planet. Arriving to a new place. New people. New surroundings. Everything is new. Even the sky is new, white glistering specks skated across its surface. I had no understanding of the simple world beyond the lights, I feel cleansed, everything is natural. Birds singing, trees waltzing to their tune. Persuading my life to sway with them. Allowing my eyes to open and realise that there’s more to life than the city, my home.
Lara, DCDC
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Heading Out From towering buildings and crowded cities to vast meadows beside great hills‌ Restlessly sitting as we headed towards the observatory amidst murmurs rumbling on, I glanced towards the window hoping I would be able to distract myself with the narrow road, or a dead carcass lying by. As the night sky parted ways revealing the moon’s light, the dark field glistened, reflecting the ice-covered grass. Shivering as I tried to capture the landscape, the bright star-filled sky greeted me with a nostalgic wisp, pieces of constellation bewildering within a masterpiece.
Cyrille, APHS
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Sun and Moon The sun dropped lower As the moon began to rise Now it was its time to shine Haniya, APHS
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Out There There were vast, empty lands, the clear blue sky, no people in sight, and animals roaming the lands. It was similar to what I imagined, until it was time for the sun to go down. I looked up and realised the sight above me was wider than I thought. No buildings obstructing my vision, making me feel the sky was boundless. There were scattered specks of light, some dim, some more vivid, there was nothing to let it stop radiating from anyone. There was silence accompanied by the night, there was nothing to disturb my thoughts. Remembering old memories and reflecting on the past, ruminating about the future, and focusing on the present.
Jerica, APHS
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Toxic The world is a toxic place. Everything always gets in your way and disappoints you, especially the people you thought you could trust. How many don’t like you? Or care about you? Do they throw you away and destroy you in many ways? Watching you break down and suffer. Is it the same as the amount of stars in the night sky? I’m still counting them. Even if my hands are not enough to count them all, then it’s not as many as the stars in the sky. As long as I am still alive, I can never know what to expect next.
Sheana Mae, APHS
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Open and Never Ending A never-ending sky full of tiny polar white stars gleam and glitter like scattered moon dust. Around here the land seems to be endless, and appears to be painted with shades of brown and yellow creating the overall canvas that we know as home. When you look off into the distance you get awestruck with the mountains’ complexion, and their striking, picturesque structure makes me feel content.
Lauren, DCDC
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Rule Breakers The wild moon commands a secretive sky Just enough to see the mischief The hatred fades, authority awakens. Shaelee, DCDC
Photo taken by one of the students holding up his iphone to one of the telescopes at the Warrumbungle Observatory.
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Group Hug “Group hug!� Aelin demanded, and laughed as her friends huddled around her. The wind roared as she wrapped her arms around her people. Aelin roared back. The hollowness that once adorned her soul was no longer there. She was bursting, overflowing even. The thrill of life, the beauty of defiance, was echoed by the nature around her, so she kept staring at the sky, adoring the stars that gazed back.
Dilara, APHS
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Smile Mesmerized by points of light Glittering tears stretch over the horizon Smile Monank can we take a group photo? Monankumar, APHS
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Starry Eyes My breaths fanned out before me, Small white clouds escaping from my mouth, Body grew numb as my eyes grew wide, Silvery balls of gas greeted the naked eye, And they loomed over me, encompassing all, Never had I felt so small
Sarah, APHS
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Stars Backbone of the night, Glowing upon the endless mystery, Staring right back at us. Christina, APHS
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Stargazing Stars up in the sky, I watch as the cool breeze rustles through my hair I breathe in deeply, The frigid wind surges and flares throughout my nose‌ I pick up the volleys of chatter all around me, A myriad of voices, Nothing mentioning the beauty of the moonlight And nothing about the deep specks of glitter up above, So I stare up at the night sky solemnly, Oblivious to the people scattered around me, Keeping my numb hands safely tucked into the warmth of my pockets, As I begin to ponder and think to myself in deep melancholy, Are we really alone in the universe? Where is everybody?
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These are the conundrums that trouble me, Knowing that we many never answer these questions It makes me feel small and tiny, Like an ant in a world of giants, However deep inside me, I don’t truly desire the answer, A part of me desires life to stay the way it is right now, A perfect balance of ambiguity, Perhaps allowing us to forge our own destinies amongst the stars, Now, it’s getting colder, But I yearn to stay a little longer And simply stare up at the Stars up in the sky.
Peter, APHS
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The Cage During the dead of night, darkness crept out of every corner, consuming everything in its path, slowly approaching me. As the night went on, the coldness struck me, tying me down, slowing feeding off my defenceless soul. I clung to my thin blanket, desperate to conserve the little warmth I had left as I struggled to survive the night. Tied down by the cold, I was left vulnerable and exposed to the incoming darkness in the frozen cage. At that moment, I spotted something at the corner of my bloodshot eye. Could it be my golden key to escape from this entrapment? I dragged my weakened body to the far end of the cage, reaching out for my only chance to escape this suffering state, my body already giving into the cold. Determined, my hand reached out, the cold seconds away from fully consuming my soul when I grabbed the remote. With all my remaining strength, I pressed the button, releasing me from this frozen prison and transporting me to paradise. In that instant, a voice called out. “Who the hell turned on the heater? Shut it off!�
Mohamad, APHS
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New Day The cold morning gaze of energetic sunrise flashes its rays between the trees during the early morning of winter, urging us to get moving for a new day. As we travel on straight roads, we see bush land to our sides, and animals, some dead. On top of vast sandstone mountains, I wonder how long it would have taken for them to form. We walk our way around the mountain to the sandstone caves, where Aboriginal people lit small fires in the winter nights. With delight my friends and I take pictures, and climb up the historical sandstone.
Neel, APHS
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A wombat near the road Standing so silent and still Mourning its lost friend Samantha, APHS
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A Tale of its Time Drowsy eyes greeted by a different location, my senses slowly awaken. Nature’s light quite dim yet refreshing hits the frosty window panes and peers inside through a space made by the curtain. As I leave the shared cabins with my fellow classmates, I am welcomed by the chilling weather and the echoing sounds of wildlife: I am far from the city and home. Later, as the day warms, we follow a dusty trail leading into this territory a place unfamiliar for most of us. Patterns of lines plastered, different textures rough and smooth felt on the surface, certain areas caved into the darkness. It is a tale of its time. We look over the sea of trees below and to the horizon. The land is vast and sky is too, stretching across the land. We see ourselves as already great beings until we are met and faced with something way greater.
Angela, APHS
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The Canvas Fabricated by the cultivated hands of the elements over countless time, earth is an ever-changing canvas. The artistic attention to detail encapsulates our awareness. Years passed, forging the masterpiece we observe today. The air roared and the water engulfed the sandstone, forcing particles to flee. The fire feasted on the harmless forest, inflicting death. We get to recognise and appreciate this minute chapter of Yaminba State Forest’s ongoing cycle. Through this death, life will emerge, bursting through the burnt down plants and trees. Like life, this part of the picture-perfect canvas is only temporary.
Cameron, DCDC
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Warming Flaws Sand and loose stones litter the winding path, framing years of change. The watery breath of the sun flickering through the stagnant charcoal trees. Little holes blemish the rock, rays of sunlight warming the flaws. She is the ruler of this ever-changing monarchy.
Isabelle, DCDC
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Sand caves As millions of seasons come and go Their beauty only grows Saeid, GBHS
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Football United The change in our perspectives That changed the barren wasteland Into a field of opportunity Liberty, DCDC
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The World Game We were in a place filled with different people from different parts of our country. Australia. But still we were united by a sport that brought us down to the ground. Soccer. We played on the dusted tracks as we pushed and kicked our way towards the ball. Dirt on our faces, sand in our hair… We continued kicking and pushing until we were all laying on the field with dust in our lungs and stars above our head. Our hearts came together as one by one we all got up to give a good hug and a pat on the back to our new friends. The night sky was finally upon us as we sat around the fire that we’d helped gather in our arms… Sparks warped around us, creating a shield of protection from the freezing cold as we got to know each other in this historical place.
Zeus, GBHS
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Our hearts beat in sync With the wildfire An anthem you cannot stop Dilara, APHS
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The Dying Tree “When we look into the flames, it seems to fight for life, and you see your own self-struggling to survive. Old memories, sweet dreams, anything that snagged along with you throughout your life. Cherish those moments and lead a happy life.” I strummed the strings of my guitar. The music hummed and resonated through the woods. I poured my heart and soul into every vibration of the song, filling it with the life it otherwise didn’t own. Memories of childhood flashed by, pleasant and clear. I ran around fields, chasing the never-ending horizon. I stared into the skies, tracing out an imaginary lion running in the expansive savannahs of the night; I imagined the clouds shaping themselves into a wolf howling at the moon and the sky. I remembered digging through the sand, throwing scraps of bark around, scaring away the birds chewing the seed around an old tree. I stared in the fire, and was met by the gentle eyes of the very tree, clinging to its life helplessly: “Well, he finally notices, huh? I wanted to be acknowledged and loved, loved by peers, parents, family. I searched for this love for decades, adventuring in the vast landscape to find the one person who will see that I am here. I will never forget you, my friend, and I hope I find the love I sought for in the next life as well. For now, I take my leave.”
Monish, APHS
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Man’s Greatest Creation I contemplated the fire in awe. I had never seen something so bright, massive and indestructible. Its red, luminous stripes of flame had resurrected the dead fauna which once laid dead. Soon they rose like soldiers, emitting their beauty, just like the fire itself. The warmth of the fire and coldness of the mist battled each other. The fire emerged victor, and had provided more than enough warmth for me. Exchanging conversations around the fire, me and my fellow peers used it as an advantage. We collected some sticks from the leftover pile and impaled our marshmallows using them. Cooking it tender on the fire and gloriously munching on them again and again. This was truly Man’s greatest creation.
Ahmed, GBHS
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Flickering in the moonlight The flames echo a sombre tone As it lays its final breath Samantha, APHS
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The Campfire Underneath the canopy of stars, That illuminates the night sky, Flames that silhouette foreign faces.
Charlotte, DCDC
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Not a Photographer Walking towards the light, I could hear, or better yet, feel the liveliness within the voices. The crisp night sky strummed a peaceful melody, embracing the dim crackles. Darkness shrouded the surroundings behind, silencing trees, and critters alike, further illuminating the already vibrant flame. The campfire grew, the hisses of a cat gradually becoming the roar of a lion. And yet we continued to feed it with firewood. Subtle cheers and gentle laughter erupted from all angles around the flame. Poker-faced, I focused on my group of friends. Their expressions, their energy, beyond genuine. Despite all of us clustering in our respective friend groups, there was a universal sense of unity, the feeling that regardless of the closeness of our friendships, we were all sitting around for the same purpose, and despite that purpose seeming trivial, we were, to some extent, looking out for each other. It was perfect. A moment seemingly frozen in time. A moment a mere teenager’s words cannot even begin to describe. I’d love to have captured that moment. But, I’m not exactly a photographer.
Jake, APHS
CAMPFIRE
Toasting Coated with a golden crust Melting on the surface of my tongue Sweetness is my drug Thanh, APHS
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A Place to Call Home Sitting around a campfire … problems that existed five minutes ago have been swallowed up by the land of oblivion. Today I know someone I’d never seen before yesterday. It’s funny how only being two hours from home everything is completely different. Trees that have existed for thousands of years. So much character as if they were once alive. Almost as if they were guarding the forest grounds. Like it was their job to make sure nature is kept in balance. This is a place I could call home.
Dayna, DCDC
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Flames bursting out, Watching the flames rise, Burn some marshmallows Duale, APHS
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Enthusiastic Night I took a deep breath, then another. I held my finger under the curtain and lifted it aside. Dark figures, shadows, peculiar anomalies moved and drifted about within the dark forest, lifting, dropping, lifting large twisted, warped sticks and branches and piling them up. I heard a knock, the door opened. “The campfire is ready!� We walked towards the vibrant, looming figure of heat and incandescence. As we neared, I felt my face tingle from the burning beauty of the campfire. Everyone moved their seats back in fear of burning their skin. We laughed. I threw a stick in the enthusiastic campfire, I threw another. Time crept by. The fire grew older, and weaker, and smaller. Illuminated faces spoke and laughed and moved in closer to the suffering flame. Marshmallow bags ripped open. I laughed, my marshmallows set on fire, I never cared. I held up my stick and waved it around like a torch of sugar. The marshmallows held on no more and gave up, plummeting into the ruthless flames. I held out the bag and everyone grabbed more, until the bag was empty. Outside the cabin door, I stretched in the silent, cold night. I placed my hand on the knob, and entered the noisy cabin.
Yusuf, GBHS
CAMPFIRE
The camp fire was raging I did a good job starting it Once the marshmallows disappeared so did everyone else Saeid, GBHS
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Pellets of restlessness Bombarding our faces Carelessly we dance around the fire Muhammad, APHS
CAMPFIRE
A Red, Ardent Beauty We all gathered around a lifeless pile of wood. It had once glowed bright whilst emitting a halo around its foliage. It had once carried leaves on its rough arms and had sung into the chilling air of the night sky. It had served as a refuge for the fauna which danced and cheered around its body. But now the tree lay dead, resting with its own kind. A man walked up to the pile with some twigs and last week’s paper. Without blinking, he threw it into the pile and patiently waited. Even he knew that with just one spark, the tree’s majestic reign would come to a bitter end‌ The next morning, the fire was nowhere to be seen. In the spot where the fire once ruled remained a pile of ash and charred wood. Just like the great trees, the fierce fire also fell. I guess nothing is strong enough to withstand the effects of time.
Pratham, GBHS
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Friendship Fire We finally arrived at Camp Cypress Hopped out of the bus with our luggage To see a group of strangers that looked so unfamiliar Everyone sticking to the people they knew To our left kangaroos So foreign to us city kids. To the kids from Dubbo Kangaroos were a normal animal Like a cat or a dog Rushing to our cabins to unpack Everyone picking their bunks We were called to help make a bonfire Gather sticks to the fire pit On the way we learnt each other’s names And later we were invited to a game of soccer City vs Country
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It was dark And cold Crackle, crackle A bright flame calling us Feeding us its warmth Making us feel connected As the fire started to settle We shuffled our chairs closer to the heat Like moths moving towards light As the fire died out Our friendship got stronger
Ismail, GBHS
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Campfire Memories SNAP! CRACK! SMASH! The juxtaposed sound of two contrasting groups preparing for a campfire. A fire was lit, some obsessed, others confused. Spitting hot ash as we were pushed back by our city counterparts. The crackling and dancing fire engulfed each and every log one by one. As the fierce flames receded, the hot red coals made their appearance. The next morning the relics of grey ash was the only evidence of the fire. Poking the ash with a stick made the coals appear once again, producing heat. The fire only lasted a night but the memories created around it, lasted a lifetime.
Grace, DCDC
CAMPFIRE
The Life of the Fire It began as a foundation, a place devoid of life, waiting to be nourished. The birth of the fire was unsteady, uncertain, like a newborn child opening their eyes for the first time. It consumed all that was given to it, growing into an intense blaze, at the prime of its life fuelling everyone’s imaginations as they stood together, mesmerised by the nature of the fire’s spontaneous existence. The next day, the fire had grown old, drained of its energy, yet some heat lingered. It desperately clung to what little life it had left, its age showing with its ashen, weightless body, closing in on the end of its life.
Anindya, APHS
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RAIN 64
RAIN
Droplets breaking free Seeping through the red soil of the earth Colours start to paint the dull canvas Thanh, APHS
RAIN
Happy Now I sit there in the workshop, with my head down along with everyone else. I can only hear people sniffing and coughing, everything is silent. We are all writing haikus. Mine is about how it hasn't rained in Dubbo and Baradine in over two years. I have mentioned to a new friend I made – he goes to Arthur Phillip High School – that since the rain stopped, crops have become harder to grow. I tell him how some days I can see lots and lots of trucks going down the road and how I know they have a lot of food in them. Then I tell him one more thing: I wish it would rain. Much later, everyone is silent in their beds again, and I hear it. Rain. Thumping against the roof of our cabins. I couldn't be happier. I haven’t heard this in forever. The next morning, while everyone else is still asleep, I walk outside and see that it hasn't stopped raining, however it is not as heavy. Every part of the ground is wet, and the trees look more beautiful than ever. I know that the soil will soon be fully revitalised, and that there will be more grass and the animals will reappear. I look up into the sky, which is filled with clouds. Something I haven’t seen in a while. And I think about everyone back home, family and friends, happy now.
Mustafa, APHS
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RAIN
Fallen Rain Lost tears of the sky Bound to once again return Drowning Dust Suffocating beneath the flood Desperate for one last moment of clarity
Brock, DCDC
RAIN
The Rain It rained today, a natural alarm clock, it felt like an inside type of day. Until it stopped, the skies cleared and the puddles dried, no sign that today was destined to be peaceful. The sun’s warmth is burning my neck now as I reimagine the rain. The memories are a flood. Memories of dancing in puddles and beautiful lights of every colour filling the skies. The smell of dust, disturbed by the splashes of rain still lingers in the burning sun and within the persisting smell, is childhood. Playing in the mud, laughing, not caring, smiling again. The wind returns and so does my hope. The hope you feel when opening presents on Christmas morning. A smile glides across my face as I wipe the first drops from my brow. Weather as indecisive as a coin in the air, spinning from one face to another, until finally it lands and shows the face of change. With a tick and with a tock of the clock, the weather changes, never really deciding if rain or sunshine will rule the day. When it rains, it pours. When it pours, it floods, and reminds me of a time I was full of joy.
Hayden, DCDC
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RAIN
Splish-splash The careless humans dash Dancing over the river of puddles Muhammad, APHS
RAIN
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TRIVIA 70
TRIVIA NIGHT
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TRIVIA NIGHT
Trivia night Walk in with confidence Walk out in shame Anindya, APHS
Trivia was fun We all enjoyed it Then it died out like James’s sense of humour Saeid, GBHS
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REFLEC 72
REFLECTION
Hidden History The trees stood tall over the Red Earth, forecasting the overpowering shadows. As many years past distant memories and thoughts are preserved in each and every one. Modern technology implemented, to sustain the image of Camp Cypress. Solar panels littered the roofs harnessing the suns energy. The stables contained vast signs of life. Animal remnants still remain displaying the wide variety of life there. The shearing shed, broad and basic. The shed contains many years of memories hidden behind closed doors. Yet the history is still thrown throughout the site. Camp Cypress still containing many thoughts about the past but yet, not everything has been explored. History hidden but destined to be uncovered.
Zac, DCDC
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History of Cypress History of this place Sustained by modern implements To preserve hidden memories.
Kale, DCDC
(This haiku represents the fact that modern technology is introduced to older places to preserve the memories that are contained within rather than destroy all the work that past generations have worked and fought for. It also creates a sense of originality. It portrays a message which shows that it’s still undisturbed a sense of peacefulness. It’s the way it should be.)
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REFLECTION
Such sweet roommates, At night they come alive I miss sleep. Zoey, DCDC
REFLECTION
Baradine Dirt; red, dusty. Trees; long, thin, tall, dark. Sky; blue-grey, full of clouds. Air; cold, wispy, still. That’s how it is today. How it will be tomorrow. But I’ll never know how it was sixteen years ago. Probably heaps different. Bluer, greener, less people, perhaps more trees. We’ve nearly destroyed this world. We’re trying to fix it, but it’s probably too late. But we’re trying. I reckon in sixteen more years’ time it’ll be even more different; less trees, more people, more roads, greyer skies. But could it be worse?
Emi, DCDC
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REFLECTION
The White Barn The decay of the barn. A place once of chaos but now a place of peace. The rusted door scrapes as we enter. Back in the day it was a place of work, shearing, sweating and swearing. The distressed and now untouched wood lines the floor. Dirt and wool lightly scattered over it, creating a sea of memories back to where the chaos once occurred. Cobwebs cascade from the ceiling, spiders swing from them like Tarzan. It is being consumed. It seems as though no one has come to visit this forgotten place in a long time. It reminds me of a lonely mausoleum. We are finding a peaceful place for ourselves. The invisible lion keeps his eye on us, the visitors to his century-long home, the barn.
Jazmyn, DCDC
REFLECTION
The Beast – a fiction excerpt She sat unmoving, a dark outline on top of the large four poster bed. It was so quiet she could hear the strong and steady thud of her heartbeat. A thin silver slice of moonlight shining on the floor and snaking its way up the wall opposite her was all that illuminated the room. She had been toying with the edges of her dreams, wanting to ignore what was going on around her. Then she heard it, the crunch of footsteps on gravel. Instinctively, she reached out of my hiding place, and caught it by the throat. But within seconds it struggled out of her tight grip and entered back into the shadows‌
Denni, GBHS
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REFLECTION
Guardian of the Night Walking, alone contemplating about what’s good Just myself, the moon and the wailing woods. The dark tall figures, the trees, almost moving And the sounds of the owls hooting. My flashlight just died, but the moon will provide me with the light. Show me the way, Guardian of the Night. I was not afraid of the sounds of the animals nor the dark, But the swift rustling in the green bushes made my instincts spark. Afraid, anxious of what the future holds for me. A small white bunny emerges from the bush. As the moon crawls back into the darkness The sun wakes from its slumber, The younglings wrapped in their soft pillowy shell All arising one by one‌
Abubakar, GBHS
REFLECTION
Adaptation Night, began sitting near the furious orange bush, forgetting all these misfortunes by embracing the warmth that moulds around my body pulsating off the flames. Capturing the flames’ vigorous dance emitting this passionate wanting to appreciate the movement flowing with delicate and ferocious fusion. There the fire weakens into this soft timeless jazz, flickering and swaying with tender passion and explosive life. The realisation of this beautiful creation of fire becomes astounding to understand life can be expressed into expiring masterpiece of human innovation. But people can’t always admire this beauty, so they adapt to darkness.
Andrew, GBHS
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New experiences It was my first time being in a rural area, so I didn’t know what to expect from the car ride. Would there be anything there? Do many people live here? The scenery changed from the usual city landscape I was used to, to the vast lakes and endless open fields. We’d be getting there soon, and I started thinking about the people we’d meet. Would we make friends with them? Would they like us? We all arrived there tired from the long journey and didn’t say much to the other schools. I was beginning to think that we wouldn’t talk to them at all, but soon after we all started talking to each other and making friends. We learned things about them and shared our works with each other. Before we knew it, it was time to say goodbye, and everyone was silent the trip back, still a little sleepy and tired.
Laarnie, APHS
REFLECTION
Dear Diary The days were as a flash, vanishing before my eyes could capture them as memories. The five days symbolised five hours, yet each alongside a meaning, an intent, a message. The dirty golden blanket carries a scent; a scent of love, a scent of nature, a scent of comfort, a sense of belonging. The air was crystal clean, in this place one could call home. Each pulse was strong, whether it was the landscape, the sand caves, the trivia night or the campfire, strong enough to be written in golden letters. Yet that one day was one not to forget, a day which caused a spark in my dark mind, a spark which was just the beginning.
Arth, APHS
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The open roads That never end Like our journeys Saeid, GBHS
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