take a number
from your life
a few very noisy people
sharing waves on
sharing waves on
Test us with a skewer,
It sat watching mist billow around in
distant shadow, blood paint upon its
face as it moans and howls upon
cold rocky cliffs, it’s fur damp from
rain. Wind howls around as dusk
unfolds its gloom.
As the water floats upon my
I could feel the poison
The creatures that are in it
It makes me feel hatred in my heart
It’s true that it’s called a ghost town
But that’s no reason to judge this place.
It once contained gold
which was done by the time they were
No one lives in this place
because they are jus too scarred.
It makes me feel too sad
All the joy they could be having
just taken away for one reason.
Middle of Australia, maroon dust flies at will
through the hot dry roads.
Sun lights the way for cautious
animals that travel from town to town, immune
to molten maroon sand that could swallow
you if a wrong foot is thumped.
Brown dirt flows along, sand
is moving. This was a dust
storm going straight to
town, with groups of kids
playing, “hurry to the room” says
Will, dust storm passes town.
Dust storm flows through towns,
showing its victims its
birds fly, birds fly high but you and I
can’t why can’t you and I fly? Birds fly, fly high
and I’ll watch on
a grassful ground so fly birds, but soon I’ll fly
with you in the amazing sky.
In Africa a body of trickling liquid flows. Moist air is
around us and amazing birds fill a sky of astounding
dawn colours. Aqua animals bring joy as I look.
dumbstruck,at this sight. My world is showing lots
of amazing things, I did not know until now. It is
a magical land far from hardships and pain.
I love it!
Long colourful limbs, living in a wing
of wild. Pink glows from a bright light
not far away, as it sings a song
through it’s lips of wisdom. It calls out
to a crow and asks for it to land on
its long brown branch. The crow says no,
and will fly away. It might jump off
to a woodland not far off and bring its
birds with him. you cannot fly away, says
its gut. But it will bring joy to a land,
it says, as it jumps away.
A location unknown, far from Man,
Why? No on knows,
You will not find it.
It is not living,
It is not moving,
But always strays.
To find it is not hard.
Think of anything.
Anything at all.
Think of it with wings, with a tail,
pink, black, maroon.
You found it!
To think, to touch, to always run, to sprint, to jump,
to be the song, to throw, to swing, to win the bling,
to win, to lose, you cannot pick
for you will know when I’m the champion
My granddad’s land is a part of history
with gold in it’s soil. Many trains shot past and wind flew
across his land, with a slow calm rhythm. Soon his
land had no gold and a the gold company vanished without
Giant plains that hold together history that so
many can’t grasp. History that sails worlds in
confusion. But not all is what it is. So
many rush and fail. Look back at the
Giant Plains, it’s holding out future.
I kick up dust
colour of blood and rust
and watch as it floats back down
It’s my land of dust
my own grains of sand
I watch and allow it to roll out of my hand
Into the sun’s tortuous warmth
I call my land Australia