2025 Writing Competition Winners
THE MULLET POEM By Jacqui
He wore a mullet It was curly All his mates were big and burly If he saw beer He would skull it On his head He wore a mullet Tight and tiny He likes sports AFL, league and soccer In his dreams he is a Docker He wears Ugg boots and trackpants To pubs and night clubs Then tries to dance What a scene What a commotion The weekend’s here And he wears shorts
A slave to fashion It’s called devotion When he’s at work He’s really slack Looking busy Is his plan of attack He comes in late Then clocks of early When he’s at work He’s always surly
In his leisure he loves TV On the couch
Is the place to be A beer in one hand And he will skull it On his head He wears a mullet
FAVOURITES By James
Caramello: Here we go, they're opening us up! Marvellous Creations: Ooh, pick me! I have everything in me! Moro: Obviously I'm going to be first, I'm objectively the most delicious. Dream: Come on, please choose me! Picnic: In your dreams, Dream. You're lucky they let you in here, this is supposed to be for chocolates. Dream: I'll have you know that white chocolate is still chocolate, thank you very much. Turkish Delight: Aww, what's the point? I'll just go hide down the bottom. Marvellous: They're choosing! Aww, it's always Crunchie first. Crunchie: Hmph. Naturally. Moro: Wow, everyone always hogs Crunchie. I'm the best bar, they just don't know me yet. Marvellous: Yay! The little kids always love me! Old Gold: Back in my day we didn’t fuss around putting extra things in. Chocolate was chocolate. Picnic: The Dairy Milks are gone? Really? How basic can you get? Guess it pays to be the safe choice, huh? Boost: Chill out, Picnic, you're driving us nuts. Dream: Hey, where's Flake? Moro: Didn't even show up. Flaky as usual. Still woulda been eaten before them. Caramello: Hey, quit picking on Turkish Delight again! Turkish: Uuuurgh, I'm aaaaalways the laaaast... Caramello: Hey, there, there, Turkish Delight. Don't listen to them. Just blank out those nasty words. There are still some people that like your flavour. Turkish: (sniff) Thanks, Caramello. You're really sweet deep down, you know? Boost: Yeah, even if we're last outta here, we're gonna get picked eventually.
Turkish: Thanks for the boost, Boost Dream: Only seven chocolates left... Old Gold: Six chocolates and you, Dream. Dream: Hey, I'm still chocolate! Moro: Couldn't make it out of this box with a stepladder...
Boost: Says the discount Mars bar! Moro: Says the discount Twix bar!
Turkish: Please don't fight- Both: Shut up, Turkish Delight! Picnic: Why am I still here? I have nuts, I'm the healthy choice. Even the Cherry Ripes went before me! Old Gold: Actually, kiddo, the real healthy option is rich dark chocolate. Picnic: No-one asked you, grandpa! Old Gold: Who're you calling... Oh, the granddad picked me again. Boost: Hahaha. Oooh, here we go! Moro: Finally, someone with taste. Caramello: Me next! Picnic: Phew! Dream: Chin up, Turkish Delight, you're next! Turkish: Finally, it's my turn. Boy: Mum, any left? Mum: Just the Turkish Delight. Boy: Aww, never mind. Mum: Throw that in the bin for me please? Turkish: WAAAAAAAAGH! WHY IS-S-S IT ALWAYS ME-E-E-E?!
THE LIGHT By Kayleigh
The man stood on his porch in the dark. It was always dark here, but he liked standing on the porch looking out into that inky blackness. Not for any particular reason, he mused, deflecting himself from the true reason for his regular vigils. He lived alone, as, he assumed, did everyone else. It was pretty impossible to go out and meet people, no one could see anything out there. But he did know that there were people out there, he spoke to them on the Network, he connected to them and they all shared their own similar experiences of this place, they all danced around the word he dared not say. The word that would describe his aloneness. He dare not say it, lest he shine an impossible light on it, giving it no quarter to hide. So he stood out here. It wasn’t cold, or hot, it was pretty comfortable despite the stark lack of illumination. He would stand there, sometimes with a drink, just staring out in the nothing, eyes darting back and forth not looking at anything, but always looking for something. He was standing on his porch when it happened, it was subtle, he barely noticed it at first. But it soon became blindingly obvious, as a massive ball of fire arose to his left, it made a slow lazy arc across the sky, it was so bright it illuminated everything! He could now see out beyond his porch, he could see other houses! He could see other people! They were just now coming out of their houses and looking towards the sky. He rushed over to the nearest one, exclaiming excitedly as he got there, “I can see you!” His neighbour turned, her smile almost as bright as the fire ball. “I can see you too!” “May I, uh,” he ventured, “Give you a hug?”
“Oh! Please!” she said smiling, coming down from her porch towards him. He reached out and embraced her, his first human contact in… He didn’t know how long he’d been here, well it was a long time. He and his neighbour went to the next house and more smiles and more hugs ensued. Then the next with more and so on, until soon there was a huge crowd of people standing around excitedly talking and touching and hugging. Sharing in a sense of community that they’d all been craving but that the Network, as good as it is, was unable to provide. He wasn’t sure who noticed it first, but it became apparent that the light was waning, the fire ball had nearly reached the far horizon. Soon, as quickly as it came, it would be gone and they’d all be in darkness once more. They all shared their tears, fears, and goodbyes, and parted, most reluctantly, to return to their houses, none of them sure they’d ever see each other again. He arrived at his house just as the fireball dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant yellows, oranges, and pinks. It was stunning. Soon darkness would fall, and he didn’t know if he’d ever see the light again. It came into his life in a brilliant flash of light and was gone again the same. It provided him with a greater sense of connection than he’d ever had, and may never have again. Despite how short a time it was in his life, he was just happy it came at all. Later he stood on his porch once more, but this time he shouted out into that black and waited…
FIVE MINUTES IN MY SHOES By Maggie
I Remember It Well As I lay awake In My bed Fond memories go round in my head I recall moments left far behind Really clear and well defined I Remember it well The days of childhood so long past We are aware they cannot last The village where I was born Long ago one cold winter morn One season replaced the one before Each with their own beauty I do recall I Remember it well Winter snow was white and pure Was it fun? Not quite sure I loved grey skies and branches bare Birds migrate to who knows where Spring follows bright and clear Fills the hearts with joy and cheer Then Summer with skies pristine blue Floods the land in a different hue Autumn a special time for me Rustic colours a delight to see I really do remember it well. However, when close family were no more We decided to move to a distant shore As time progressed we came to discover We loved this place as much as the other
Still sometimes on the past we tend to dwell so can truly say I remember it oh so well.
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF AN AUTISM MUM By Karen
I made the mistake of not getting up as soon as I heard the boys awaken at 5am. Sleep was my only reprieve. In what seemed like seconds later, there were a series of little smashes on the kitchen floor, accompanied by giggling. I sighed, heaving my hefty body out of bed. Please not the eggs again.
It was the eggs again. Guess we wouldn’t be having scrambled eggs on toast for tea tonight. I was pretty sure who the culprit was, but Nathaniel made it easy for me, dobbing himself in. “Nathaniel, no!” “Nathaniel, that’s very naughty!” I scolded. He was slip-sliding around in the mess. Envisioning a fall and broken bones, I grabbed his arm with one hand and the mop and bucket with the other. After cleaning up the slimy guck, I gave Mikhail and Nathaniel their breakfasts. Nathaniel enjoyed a large bowl of Nutrigrain, but for years Mikhail had disliked breakfast, and ate only a fruit bar.
Finally, time for my coffee and smoke, which I relished outside. After dressing the boys, I put on a Winnie-the-Pooh video for Nathaniel, smiling as he danced from foot to foot to the theme song, while Sasha put on his KISS CD.
To the resultant cacophony, I prepared two rounds of Vegemite sandwiches for Mikhail’s lunch, placing them and an apple in his lunchbox, then his lunchbox and a drink into his school bag. Next, I sprayed their hair with leave-in conditioner and combed it. They both had glorious hair. Mikhail had brown curls and Nathaniel strawberry-blond waves. They were handsome lads. Mikhail was tall and slim with brown eyes and Nathaniel was stocky and blue-eyed. They did not look like brothers, and had scant regard for each other.
I needed a shower, so I woke the boys’ father, my then-husband. We’ll call him Will. “Can you look after the boys so I can get ready?” He grunted, but got up. After my shower, I dressed in daggy old tracksuit pants, a shapeless T-shirt and a seen-better-days cardigan. No makeup. Like it would suit this sorry get-up anyway. Yup. I was your stereotypical overweight, depressed, harried Mum. I rejoined the boys. “He’s a daycare boy!” I sang to Nathaniel. He immediately began to sob. “No! Daycare broken!” At three, Nathaniel hated daycare. That, of course, made me feel guilty for needing a break. After what seemed an age, owing to our early start, which was unfortunately habitual, it was time to walk the boys to school and daycare. I grasped their precious little hands. Thankfully, it wasn’t raining. Nathaniel was the first to be dropped off. My perpetually knotted stomach tightened further at his screams. Staff assured me he settled quickly, but that was cold comfort as I witnessed his distress. Mikhail and I walked the remainder of the kilometre to school. There I encountered clean-freak Mum, fashion-plate Mum and my-boy-is-so-advanced-at-reading Mum. All three deepened my inferiority. I cut myself no slack for having two autistic children. My friend, Kelly, was not there. I greeted Mikhail’s wonderful teacher, Mrs O’Brien, settled Mikhail into the classroom and left. When I got home I approached Will. He was in the garage, lifting weights. He used my full-length mirror to watch himself working out. Not that I used my mirror anymore, anyway. Long gone were the days where I peered at myself with consternation at my faults yet with overall satisfaction. “Will you dye my hair for me today?” Will had infinitely more finesse colouring hair than I did. After he agreed I grabbed my tattered old handbag, I walked the short way to the shops. At the shops I grabbed cheese and bacon rolls for Mikhail- he loved those-, a jam and cream doughnut and the dye.
Back home, I enjoyed the brunch doughnut as I read my latest thriller. Luckily, Will wasn’t there to witness. After my next smoke, I called him inside. I sat down, cloaked in a towel, while Will mixed the bottles and squeezed the product over my hair. His fingers bit roughly into my scalp. I decided to disregard the instructions on the pack. Surely, the longer I left the dye on, the blonder I would become? Sure enough, my hair was getting lighter, and lighter, until it took on a marmalade hue and I hastily washed it. I was mortified when I got out of the shower. My hair was bright orange! Meekly, I showed Will, who was now watching T.V. He swore. “There’s no way you’re leaving the house looking like that! Now I’m going to have to pick up the boys myself and take Mikhail to school tomorrow.” A silver lining. “When will you be able to fix my hair?” “Tomorrow.” “There’s one more thing, Will.” “What now?” “Nathaniel broke the eggs this morning, so I’ll need you to pick up Maccas for their tea.” Will swore again, then resumed watching T.V. sitting on the floor, hunched over. I crept back to bed, not caring if my wet fiery hair stained the pillowslip. Normally, I never slept during the day, but the next thing I knew, the boys were home. I rose to greet them. “Mummy’s got orange hair!” Nathaniel shouted. Mikhail merely looked horrified. “How about we glue some pictures in your scrapbooks?” I said brightly. Having no glue, I mixed up a paste with flour and water. Nathaniel seized on the activity, his chubby little hands making an unholy mess. Mikhail lackadaisically swiped the paste on the wrong side of the picture of a dog. He wasn’t into art and crafts. I was worried about him. Although he’d never been a big talker, he had lost speech since being medicated. Also, his imaginary friends, which he’d had since the age of two, had disappeared. Bug, Bear, Otch, Gobby and Rock and Roll Joe.
Mikhail reluctantly read to me from his school reader. Or rather, I read to him and he parroted the words back. And this was my little boy who knew all of his
letters, shapes, colours and numbers by the age of two! Nathaniel meanwhile, finished with his pasting, thrust several Mr. Men books in my hand. I read them to him, enjoying his enthusiasm.
Then Will had to relinquish the T.V. as the boys resumed their morning activities, watching Winnie-the-Pooh and listening to KISS. I brought them their afternoon tea of biscuits and cordial, helping myself to a couple of biscuits whilst reading my novel. I was used to blocking out the unharmonious din, as long as the boys weren’t distressed. So far, it had been a relatively good day in that regard. A while later, Will set off to McDonalds. He just had to cross over vacant land for a little way. Soon, he returned. The boys were thrilled with their burgers and chips. I sat with them whilst they ate at the table, vaguely hoping that Nathaniel didn’t think this was a reward for breaking the eggs. Bath time followed. I sang to them as I bathed them. Then there was the toothpaste song so they would let me brush their teeth. Finally, bedtime. I looked at their clean, flushed little faces and felt a rush of love as I kissed them. “Good night, sleep tight and don’t let the bed bugs bite. And Mummy loves you.” I was fortunate that, unlike many autistic children, mine slept through the night. I gorged on my Maccas meal, followed by some well-hidden chocolate, whilst devouring my book. And thus, more than sated, I brushed my teeth and eased myself into sleep.
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