by Rebecca Grice

Heard of that old shack by the beach? Well, even if you haven’t, then that’s my place. I live there alone with Mum. I spend all my hours over the road, down by the sand dunes, but that’s okay. I love it down there. On hot days the water’s great for a swim. I get the bay all to myself because everyone else seems to hand around the other end.

‘Hey, Charlie. Looks nice for a swim down there! Wanna come?’

‘Yep,’ I say, staring at the calm water out the window.

‘Your togs are on the washing line. I can get them if you like.’

‘Yes please’.

A few minutes later I hear a ringing sound coming from the lounge. It’s Mum’s phone. The back window by the washing line is open so I call out,

‘Mum, your phone’s ringing’.

She swings the back door open again.

‘Catch!’ she says, chucking my swimming shorts at me.

‘Otis is coming around,’ Mum says, barely interested. ‘Oh, and bring your togs,’ Mum shouts into the phone.

Otis and I are best friends. Him plus me equals mischief.

‘Can I take Max down?’

‘Yeah. Guess so,’ Mum replies. Max is our dog.

The hot sand gritted underneath me.

‘Let’s get in the water,’ Otis says.

We run up the wharf, bare footed.

‘Three, two, one!’

We dive into the clear, blue salty sea.

‘Ah!’ I say with fright. The water is freezing!

‘It’ll be okay once you swim around a bit’, said Otis looking a bit shivery himself. Max pounded in, joining in the fun. Well, at least it’s fun for him.

‘Stop it!’ He was splashing cold water ripples all over us.

To Piece the Poems Together | Meg Hardie-Boyes

Writing a poem is not as easy as you think. I know because I write one every day. It's how I keep my life together.

Being alone

Is like being wrapped up as a present

Wrapped up in your own world

Never to be opened

When all you can see is thunderstorms,

the sense that no-one else is there

seeps into your body

and finds a way to let you down

The wrapping paper is gathering dust

When the sun in your heart is

Shining

You sit down

Grab a book

And wait for someone to come

And they always do

The wrapping paper is being torn

Open

And uncovering the present inside

You.

I slam my poem book down on the bed, hard. That was one of my best poems but of course it’s not about me. When I am alone, nobody comes. I am by myself for ages.

My name is Millie River. I live with my three brothers and three sisters all squashed in the one house. My bedroom is a cupboard. I have a little bed in the right corner. Writing poems is how I keep my life together, sitting down on my bed. A bit like waiting to die!

The Hill | Jessica Hanan

A hill, stands tall and proud, rising out of the earth, towering above the rest with rustling, bustling bushes pushing out of its skin. Gradually, over years, it shrinks, getting less mighty, less powerful as the world takes over.

Rainy day | Jessica Hanan

Pools of water shiver in the harsh breezes. Rain drops splatter like gun shots on the corrugated iron roof. Foamy bubbles protrude from the light footsteps of other. Plants droop through holding too much water in their hands. People shiver in their spring clothes while I stay inside, roasting to a crisp in front of the heart warming fire.

Snorkeling | Emma Wilkinson

The reef is alive and bursting with beautiful wild life, shapes and colours. Sea anemones tentacles drift lazily about with clownfish darting among the zapping strings… It’s an amazing underwater forest!

I glide through the blue wondering if I’ll see another rainbow fish. I’m enjoying the freedom of being underwater but not having to come up for air. My brother gets to go to the underwater post office. It’s weird that the post office is underwater. It was probably above water centuries ago but then it was submerged.

The fish are pretty but it’s the coral I love. The beauty of the sea-scape. The coral is pinks, oranges, reds yellow.

The Raft at Island Bay Beach | Ella McGovern

Ice cold water slips over my body as I make my way over to the ‘raft’. Salt splashes into my mouth. I grasp the ladder and pull myself up. Sun warms my back. The waves rock the floating box back and forth. I want to lie there forever swaying and listening to the faint cries of children.

Wind screams, branches shake

Rain pelts down, down, down.

Windows rattle, leaves fall

Temperature drops down, down down.

Pebbles shake, roofs wet

My happiness drops down, down, down.