1973 School Magazine

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Editen' Clare KellY. Art Editor,' JennY Andrews' f,iterary Sub-editor : "fanet Dyne'

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TTIH PIAGAUINro OF TITH BRISBANH GTRLSU GRAMMAR SOHOOI, EDITORIAL Many things hove been written, not least in school magazine editorials, about the five years spent in secondary education. It is aclcnowledged that education is not solely a meens to a material end, but rather an intellecnnl striving towmds a broadening of sympsthiesanda maturity of outlook. Nevertheless, many critics claim tlwt contemporary education is inadequate, that the central aim of education should be to train the individual mind rather than to stress tntegtation with a group, and that education is too often believed to be a closed-end process which stops as soon as adult ffi begins. In reality, education and personal development need not mme to a hnlt with the end of formal classes: we can always learn. The individual mind must work for itself, must strive to gain an understanding that extends bryond hours and grades and marlcs. For many this knowledge culminates in a need to believe in something, to have a sense of dtrection and purpose. We must formulate a clear idea of what constitutes a satislying and signifi.cant ffi, and, as far as possible, devebp a morol philosophy consistent with its inspbation. However, man's confrontation with his world is constantly changing: we need not believe that today\ answers will serve for a lifetime. The quest is unending, but the answers we discover at a poticillar time must suffice for tlwt time. The solutions reached while still at school must enlwnce our existencethere; as Samuel fohnson wid of books - they me useless unless they help us "better to mjoy W; or better to mdure it." The whole process is necessarily an indtvidual one, and is therefore modified by the various factors affecting the individwl contact with educotion, forrnally received from institutions, or inforrrully gained from the effect of the environment, and contact with the idealism and enthusiasm of youth me all signiftcant in shaping our potentialities. Through education we receive a traditioral view of ethics and modes of thought - justifimtion for this devolves from the ancient Greek belief tlwt a properly ftained mind will turn towmds virtue. Through contact with youth we bemme aware of a growing diswtisfoction with accepted opinion,and one stimulated to thought beyond tradition and our parents' tnorality. Old conclusions camot be reapplied in a new world, but must be re-emmined and replaced by new conclusions. The society in which we will existin the future will be of our own making; the forces of change at work in the world today wanant a reappraisal of formulaefor living. C.K.

Helen Peel 4D.

Wednesday 3lst-The 1973 school year began for girls at B.G.G.S.

February: Wednesday 2lst-The Valley pool resounded to cheers and the excitement of the Inter-House Swim- ming Carnival, from which England House emerged victorious. ftflarch: Friday 9-Sunday 11-A Geography Conference, held at Maleny, was attended by Margaret Culpan, Kathy Pollard, Irigh Wishart and Heather Tomey, and proved to be an intellectually and physically strenuous weekend. Saturday 17-The Interschool Swimming Carnival was held at the Valley Pool. Our team performed magnificently, but Somerville House won the honours for the day and the 1973 Swimming season. Monday 26-Thursday 29-A 2nd Form camp was held at Kamp Stacey, Cunningham's Gap, and was generally enjoyed by all. 31st March-lst April-12 VIC &VID girls went to O'Reilly's, accompanied by Miss Horton, Miss Paterson and Mr. Rowell-memories remain of a 15 mile hike and of delicious dinners. April: Tuesday l7-The 6th Formers held a Square Dance (after a course in square dancing during our P.E. lessons) and invited B.G.S. and Churchie. A "swinging" evening was had by all.

Friday 2O--Wednesday 25-T\e Easter holidays were a pleasant break at the end of a busy term.

May: Friday 4-Tuesday 22-Despite the break for Easter, the holidays were welcomed by all-both girls and staff. Saturday S-Monday 7-Angela Paine, Kay Wtrite and Carolynne Burton went to Peel Is. for a "get- together-camp" with other students from Clayfield College, B.G.S. and Churdrie. Sunday l3-Saturday lg-Six Grammar grls (Jo Pearson, Helen Bingemann, Madeleine Williamson, Clare Kelly, Janet Cook and Heather Torney) attended the H.W. Baker Memorial History Conference at Bowral N.S.W., where they spent a knowledgable and pleasurable week, and learnt to cope with the cold. June: Friday 8-Sunday lO-The Apex Debating Finals were held at Gympie and our team (Carolynne Burton, Avryl Faragher and Sandra Patton) debated very well, becoming Runners Up for 1973. \ d

Saturday 28-Riverside was chosen as the venue for the 6th Form "Formal" this year, which once again proved to be a great success. We must thank a small group of organizers and decorators, who devoted so much time to this occasion. Friday 27-Sunday 29-Avryl Faragher, and the other members of the Queensland Debating Team debated brilliantly at the National T'imes Debating Championships held in Brisbane with the result that Queensland retained the Shield. .A,ugust: Monday 6-Informal Day was again a great success; thisyear payment for the privilege of wearing "civies" was in the form of cans of food. These were given to the Spastic Centre, and so our day, while being pleasant for us, helped others as well.

Saturday l6-Once again a B.G.G.S' girl, Heather Torney, won the Study Girl International Quest. Sunday 24-several of our girls tried for selection in the Queensland Debating Team, and Avryl Faragher was selected as one of the team's four members. Friday 29-The Grammar Singers gave a concert in the B.G.S. Great Hall presenting "Jesu Priceless Treasure" by Bach and "The Revenge" by Stanford. July: Monday 2-Thursday 5-The Fourth Form Camp was held at Camp Warawee, where everyone had a wet adventurous and enjoyable-few days spent in raft building, camping overnight, hiking and having dis- cussions. Have those staff members recovered yet? Saturday 7-Despite cyclonic conditions and an oval which resembled a slushy swimming pool, the B.G.G.S. Football team showed their true form again and asserted their female superiority over the so called B,G.S. "Masters" of the game.

The Cross Country Race proved to be more difficult this year, and showed that the most hardy of our school community are the Boarders! Wednesday 8-The Inter House Athletics carnival was a competitive and pleasant afternoon and despite the heat, the Boarders showed their team strength and spirit once again. Careers Evening held by the P. & F. was greatly appreciated by members of 4th,5th and 6th forms, and helped to clear worries from the minds of many girls; We wouldlike to thank the P. & F.for organizing functions such as this, as they are always most beneficial for us all. Friday l0-After an extremely full and busy 2nd term, everybody gladly broke up for 3 weeks holiday. Many 4th, 5th and 6th formers together with brave staff members, headed towards Tasmania, the Centre, The Snowy and New Zealand. By all accounts these trips were most eventful and great fun.

Saturday 14-The Grand Final of the State Quota Youth of the Year was held and Heather Torney emerged victorious. Saturday 2l-The Grand Finals of the Term II sports were held at B.S.H.S. and Milton Tennis courts, from which we emerged premiers in Grade VIII Netball, Grade A Volleyball and Grades A and C Tennis.

September: Friday l4-The Art Show run by the Old Girls' Association was opened.

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Saturday l5-A great deal more thought and organizatron went into School Day this year with the result that the day was more successful than ever before. I-ots of imagination and hard work went into the numerous stalls and displays making the day both interesting and a financial success. To mark the Commencement of our Centenary Buildings, an Official Opening Ceremony was held at which Manfred Cross MHR unveiled a plaque. Our project is finally on the move! Wednesday 19-The 2nd fprmers attended the 3rd of their ABC Concerts at the City Hall. Australian Poet Bruce Dawe entertained 5th and 6th formers with a reading of his work and made a deep impression on his audience.

Monday 15-The Inter-School Athletics and Ball- games were held at LangPark. Once again State High took the honours in both Athletics and Ball-games, with Grammar running third in both. Monday 22-B.G.G.S. was granted a holiday as a result of a visit to the school by the Governor Sir Colin Hannah and Lady Hannah last year. Susanne London awarded a Rotary Scholarship to the Philippines. Friday 26-The Grammar Singers performed Elgar's "The Music Makers." in the Great Hall at B.G.S. November: As this diary goes to print, the proposed programme for the remainder of the school year is briefly outlined. During November a number of varied activities has been arranged for the VIth Form, including seminars, discussions, films and excursions. Monday 19-The Annual VIth Form Dinner is to be held at 29 Murray Street, and once again invitations are extended to both parents. This occasion should be a fitting farewell to the staff and our friends. Saturday 24-A Supper Dance at Lupi's of Ken- more, is being organized by some of our Senior girls and will be attended by students from other Brisbane Schools. Tuesday Z7-Ffiday 30-Thisyear's 5th FormCamp is to be held again at Kamp Stacey and should serve as preparation for their final year. Friday 30-The girls of the VIth form end their school life. December: Monday 3-Once again the Grammar Singers will present "The Nine Lessons and Carols" at a combined Grammar Schools sewice, to be held at St. John's Cathedral. Thursday 6-The 1973 school year culminates in Speech Night, to be held this year in the B.G.S. Hall. Finally, we would like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, and hope that next year will be as rewarding as tlis one has been. Heather Torney and Sue London. tt

I met a poet today And in his voice was a sincerity That could have been mistaken in his words alone. The earthy face, weathered by experience, Not the type you'd expect for a poet Or was he? But the audience was captivated That expression With piercing eyes. With his'down-to-earth-ness' He inspired us all;

Saturday 22-Beth White won First Prize for her project on "Multilayers and Light" in the Science Teachers' Association contest. Wednesday 26-Miss Paterson, Sue Little and Heather Torney attended an evening held by the Australian Commonwealth Society on "Anglo-Aus- talian Relations" at which the speakers were the Vice Chancellor, Professor Zelman Cowan, and ihe British Higlr Commissioner, Sir Morris Jones. Thursday 27-The girls in Forms 2 to 5 and staff members attended lecfures on the Drug Problem. Saturday 29-Ow Ball-games and Athletics teams bused up to Toowoomoa for a Sports Meet with Glennie and Fairholme. Besides performing well, the girls made and renewed many friendships, while acquiring an early tan. October: Thursday, Friday, Saturday ll, 72, l3-"The Crucible" by futhur Miller was presented by a combined cast from B.G.S. and B.G.G.S. After many months of rehearsals the outstanding success of this play was gratiffing.

z.z.z. I have a parrot called Underwear who shrieks and chats with the neighbours (silly people) and is linked to his perch via a 2O foot aluminium thread which, though light, is strong enough to restrain his high and wild callings to nature. I have another pet - Parent. Parent is a galah. Parent's a dead galah. He's easier to look after - less noisy. My neighbours are really perverse. Parent and Underwear are rivals for my affections. Their antics on the perch are fascinating. Although Underwear can weave baskets (he talks to himself, too) with his thread. Parent's uncanny ability to stand on his perch with head closer to the ground than his feet for hours on end never ceases to amaze me, But I am not a nasty person basically. I realise my little buddies need fresh air and exercise so every so often I walk down to the shop with them - on their threads of course. Underwear looks forward to tiris treat and circles high above us (his slender throat has been elongated through an inaccurate calculation of 20 feet many times). Parent doesn't like exercise. He just lets me drag him along behind. We three have become quite a common sight around the district. Though I must admit a slightly stronger affection toward Parent. Underwear has it all over him in one respect. You see, and discretion is called for here, Parent's got body odour - though I wouldn't dream of telling the little fellow. He never has much fun in the bird bath. He just sort of lies there - taking in the sun I suppose. Underwear is far the superior in the sports and activities line. But that faraway unfaltering look in Parent's eyes always suggest that he is deep in thought - "is there an afterlife?" My happiest moment, and proudest is having my litfle pals perched up on my shoulder @arent is a bit droopy at times - sleeping sickness I think). But what would happen to Parent and me and Under- wear if one of us decided to leave? Ashleigh Merritt.

WHY STR.AIGHT L{NES,AR.E ffi'IPOR'T',AhTT (with apologies to Pythagoras and the R.'S.F.C.A.) Mitrlions of years ago before geometry had ever been thought of, there lived in a cave near a swamp a caveman called William. Now William was like any other ordinary caveman. F{e lived a typical caveman's existence with his beautiful, six foot three cave woman wife and his twenty-five cave children. He spent most of his time killing mammoths and dinosaurs helped by his fifteen sons. They didn't use the conventional spear method to kill the animals because spears hadn't been invented then, but instead they rolled boulders on the poor things. Now one day William and hls fifteen sons were out hunting mammoths. They were all rolling boulders off a cliff on top of a mammoth they had found when William, who was a little short sighted rolled a boulder slightly off course and squashed four of his sons flat.

"This is a spear," William said, "Go and see if you can kill a dinosaur with it." Obediently his son went out and threw the spear at a passing dinosaur. Unfortunately the curvature of the spear made it turn and shoot right through the poor boy. "Aha," said William, "I see the problem." He went back to the swamp and found a straight stick. He sharpened its end and then threw it at the nearest target which happened to be his wife. It killed her instantly. "Eureka," he cried, "I have found it, the first law of mathematics, the fastest way to get anything, anywhere is to send it in a straight line." And that is the reason why straight lines are important. It is also the reason why you shouldn't be any relation to an inventive caveman. Annette Tyson

Jenny Andrews.

"This won't do," said William, "I'll have to think ofa better way to hunt or all my sons will be squashed." So that night while his wife was doing the dishes William sat by the fire, which he had just invented, and thought. He thought all night and all the next day and just as his wife, who was very concerned about the state her larder was in, was about to hit him on the head with her club he had an idea. He rushed off into the swamp and eventually found what he was searching for, a long stick curved into an almost perfect circle, Grunting with delight he ran back to his cave. He sharpened one end of it and showed it to his youngest most expendable son.

I wish I were a little grub, llith whiskers round my tummy I'd climb into a honey pot, And make my tummy gummy.

suds foaming - bubbles ns@ - smog falling - fog lifting - people dying - wars - poisoning slowly - -Pollution*

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Pam Woodman 5A

Susan Anderson IVA

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STORM The weird black cloud was tinged red - by the dying sun The sea was dull and metallic - gleamtng dully with the colours of sunset The ftrst few brief gushes of wind slapped against the sides of the hut then came the main forces of the storm with an eerie flash of lightntng splitting the slq the waves like white horses were being driven forward by the VallEries The lightning flashes in strange contorted woys The thunder belching forth disgruntingly The wind pulling and tearing At all standing with intent to destroy The rain's beating the ground unmercifully As to push the very stones to the bowels of the eartk. fuddenly one of the'huts was struck - turning the sheet iron into a mangled and grotesque shape. The storm was abating The fallen trees in tangled masses lay. The stms were appearing slowly. Deirdre Gehrmann IVD it looked like a hand reaching to claw the land and terrify.

so[-DmR. He looks, a tortured agony burntng in his eyes' His face is contorted into a thousarcd pains. A cry leaves -his tips but it is never heard. His mind is filled with swirling eddies of colour; then is blank. He grasps the past. His home. His famtly. Never again; never again would he see them. IIe could feel the soft, reassuring lwnd on his brow. The one hand in the world not scarred by battle; but scuned by nails - the rwils driven in on that foteful Fnday on C-alvary. He was drifting slowly, but there was a wind picking up in his sails. A wind blowW awaY the sounds of war. He dies, that soldier. He dies because of men. Men who wanted power. Men who saw nothing vwong in wcrtficing the lives of others in order to gain for themselves. But he wasn't alone, that soldier. He represented thousands of others. Others who died so that their country might live. Leigh Hillman 28 S timul ant o f inwgina tio n with shape so free, wandering with the wind ttrough that unreachnble blueness that is yours: Ione white cloud, while the day fades you grow mare beautiful, catching the glow ofthe sinking aura to convsy it in a glory of gold and dusky Pastels to a tiring earth. THE PLATEAUX OF THE SUN For I have seen the lowest plateaux of the sun, Andround thetr wide circamferences (ve run; And doing this, have tasted of the fire That I am told consumes the plateaux hisher. In crossing wnd blnwn red by Satan's flame The lonely desert pys no heed to name Or rank, until the goal is won, And I huve walked a plateau of the sun. But when in bluegrem waters I have swayed, The lights reflected in me do not fade, And though I lcnow the surfacing cames soon, For now I'll tread the highhnds of the moon. And in the pearly grey of morning light I'Illie and edit phnntoms of the nffit, And till the bumW gold of day and noon I'll touch upon the hishlands of the moon. Yet, though I know the hndscape of the moon, I hope that in its mountains someday soon ITI find o craft, or way to make all one, That I may reach the summits of the sun. Janet Dyne VIA TO A CLOUD

Aore Bremmer 5C

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W,rhabfr fs lrife foroce I came into this world as all men do - a baby, that miracle of life presenting to its parents a perfect restatement of mankind. I was a small creature with the river of life running in my body, yet I was unconsciously using its power to move and talk and live outwardly. From the first awakening in the light of this world, my clear, brilliant eyes darted from face to doll, to tree, to building. Everything was new to this new man. How fascinating it all was when I could not conceive how they existed but that they did. The external world grew in reality day by day as I experienced more of it, while inside myself came the beatings of another. An awareness grew in myself of my thoughts and the strange results of many of my thoughts such as laughter or tears. What was the purpose of my life and presence here? I was a being that was as wonderful a mystery to my new found self as to all men long past. Yet I was not left to the exploration and realization of myself. The world around had decided, all children should be regimented to school and there learn the same facts.to make them fuller persons in the know- ledge 6f/iacts found by others. In all this schooling some;.learnt better than others or faster than others. Outside the classroom the world of human relations provided another school with its own methods of regimentation. It was necessary to learn to associate with other people, to understand their complexities while mine remained instinctive. But these other people fulfilled a need for friendstrip and comradeship that pleased the heart within me and made me feel securer in the turmoil and struggle that swarmed around. High school loomed and arrived. Wider aspects were studied in the subjects begun in primary school and people talked of 'life opening out before you.' Maybe, I thought, there was some greater purpose, in all the years of struggling I was spending, than just accumulating skills and facts in various fields. Other people seemed to sense the possibility of a reality and purpose in what we did, that was beyond the sight of our eyes but was connected to the power we felt in our mind and'spirit.' There must be something, called spirit, inside myself for this person, which I was, did not feel and work as merely limbs and trunk. I pondered on the roots of this tree that man was. The more I have thought and now think about what is beyond the visual person, the more confused and complexare the answers. Around me people hurry and bustle to get done the job assigned to them. Cities and countries produce and feed and develop and build great artificial monu- ments to their glory. Man has built aweb of life that ensnares each new person. A wheel develops of pro- duce and consume.

Yet man is not merely to provide the power for the wheel to turn. Why was man here in the first place? Why does he feel a greater depth to his existence than as a machine? Around me children are born, replicas of generations come and gone and holding within them the seed of generations of man to come. Each has within itself the root of its existence, a spirit that makes it more than just an animal. People, around me, wither in body but still retain the power of man inside. The wonder of their existence is upon them, yet they do not fully comprehend it. No one does, for man remains a mystery unto his very self. Life is a search for the reason for that life. All mankind lives in three dimensions but two of them, and merely feels the third. If man had the third dimension in his hand he would have wisdom, know- ledge and the sight of God before him. Margaret Culpan 6A Marion glanced up from her chemistry problems and noticed that Tim was still chewing the end of his pencil and glaring at his notebook. She had been a bit surprised when she had put his two little sisters to bed that Tim, who was only in fourth grade, had decided to stay up and do his homework- Her own little brothers and sisters next door, would, she guessed, be sprawled all over the floor with a game of monopoly - they certainly would not have touched school books on a Friday night! Marion closed her book. "What's the trouble, Tim?" "Nothing." "Is it sums or writing?" "Sums," "Let's have a look." She moved over and saw the first offive subtractions with only two lines of working beneath it. "Mm. Yes, that's good. You've got the first step right. Have you done sums like this at school?" t'Yes." "Well, what's the next step? You can't take one third from five sixths, can you?" Silence. "They have to have the same name, don't they, so you'll need to find the L.CM." Tim's face brightened. "Oh, yea. I remember. Miss Mills told us about that." Laboriously, he set to work. It was a slow, painful task, and even with Marion's continued help, the five sums were not completed until almost an hour later. But Tim whistled happily as he went off to bed - he understood something. As she settled down to her work again, Marion found she was chewing her pencil, too. Really, the poor boy needed help with his maths - he hardly even understood the basic concepts. Perhaps it was

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the new maths they were doing, or perhaps the classes were too large. She doubted if his parents would have much idea about the seemingly round- about new method, which she had gathered from her young brothers and sisters. One hour a week would be enough, just to straighten out the week's work - but the Finleys would not be able to afford a coach for Tim. Now that the netball season was over, Marion had free Saturday momings - perhaps she could offer...no, she was trying to study for Senior, arryway. Looking at her watch, she realized that the Finleys would be home in an hour and she had scarcely even begun her work. After breakfast on Saturday, Marion resolutely turned away from the neat piles of textbooks on her desk, and changed into her togs. As it was a long weekend, she felt justified in accepting Beth's invit- ation to try out their new pool. Doubtless all the other kids in the neighbourhood would feel the same way about the Eastman's generous hospitality, but a crowded pool was better than a crowded desk, especially on such a beautiful morning. After the first thrilling dive and subsequent outlet of high spirits in a brief underwater tackle with her hostess, Marion dodged flailing arms and legs and circumnavigated children performing shoulder dives until she reached the rail. Hauling herself up onto the edge, she dangled her feet in the water and, letting the sun soak into her body, threw back her head just in time to catch a gentle breeze full in the face. She could easily understand why the two birds far up in the blue dazzfe werc soaring and wheeling in such strong,joyous, exultant curves. Even the sturdy yellow wild flower, whose leaves were prickling the palm of

.her,hand, seemed to be reaching up and up into the glorious day! Marion, too, was impelled to stretch up for one more dive. She shot through the water, deep down this time, right beneath the mass of writhing, inter- locked bodies. Suddenly, as she turned onto her back to surface, a cold fear swept through her. Above her was an endless ceiling of movement, but there were no breaks, Frantically, she paddled further along - still no breaks. Her mind seemed empty, so empty that the flashing memories of her whole life did not even begin to fill it - the pleasant ramble of pre-school days, the childish bustle of primary school, first day at high school - and there was no future - no more hours of study, no more babysitting, Mum would never get the vase she was making for her birthday. She was not afraid of death, only...life had been so short...she had achieved so little... The terrific pain in her lungs made her powerless to preventherself frombeing carried up, from crashing into someone's"back - and breaking through into the air. With one arm flung over the pool edgtng, and the other hand clutching the rail, Marion found herself staring at a little yellow wild flower, bobbing on its stout stem. She raised her head, and the two birds were still gliding as gracefully as they had been - only five minutes ago? "Hey, what happened? Are you all right?" called Beth. "Nothing; I'm O.K." she answered, her incredulous gaze still fixed on the birds. But something had happened - and Tim was going to get his maths coaching every saturday' Helen Gehrmann. vIA

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EVERYONE NEEDS HIM All the children play happtly in the street

ADDRESS TO A NATION "Laok now girls - something must be done!" There pursued a shuffle and a restless sigh' "You\e had your games and had your fun. Now I feel we should - somehow unify." "C.an't you sense the disappointment As you destroy their faith, their very standards?" Someone yawned; they didnl hear the plea of her Iament. "Wy can't we get out of the sun - those bastards." Then memory opened with thoughts of that to come And I sighed on the theme of her hurtmeant dictum. Give these rebels iust a few years more - ,4,nd they'll lrnow her meaning to its very core! M.I. For a moment my anger consumed me As I grappled with feelings beyond me.

On the footpath a lanely unwanted child dawdles There's no reason to hwry - there's no where to go. There's no one to love him, to hold him gently He is lost, lost in the rat+ace of a world ll/here no-one cares, all me too busy to notice him. How can anyone live in this world unloved I can't understand but then perlnps he isn't Unloved I mean: Perhaps there is someone. Perhaps he lives just to please that someone Perhaps everyone shoud have Him - who can't be lost Everyone needs someone to talk to - to understand. Fred VB

LADY FEEDING BIRDS Anzac SEmre Edy moming huntless workers Streaming From the subway Peace Drunks resting I|orkless waiting Occupying B.C.C. pmk benches Lady Old and straight Pink hues Faded IIat and shoes Ptnk Rather old Cardigan, skbt Stockings Seamed and darned Birds Pigeons fat Pigeons sleek Friendly Trusting and greedy Bread New and stale Carefully sliced Divided Among the birds Joyful That someone ccres An old lady Touched I walked on. Penny Beall 68

A woman gasps, screams in Pain - recovers summons courage and tries again. *te loves this tenor, yet is afraid, frightened of the present and the future. Another pain tears through her; Sharper, more piercing than the last. Sweat pours from her pulsating body. A ttny head appears. A cry. Hqpiness floods through her, her tired body relaxes A child is bom. Robyn Torney 5A

Fiona Reath 5D.

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Janet Dyne VIA

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I sit there, h's my world. Don't stare, I don't know You. I'm normal

Sally Gilligan i

advice I dived as the gigantic monster exploded around my ears. Sand filled my ears, my eyes as I was tossed and thrown in the turbulent tunnel of the wave' Sand cried out in agony as I was threshed and tumbled in the floor of the wave. Would I never meet the sky again? Sand filled my mind, my mouth as I mingled with the salty waves. Gasping for air I surged towards the sky only to be thrown back alain as the wave continued to haul me mercilessly as it resumed its course. Sand appeared before my face. I grabbed great handfuls of sand as I struggled to leave the nightmare behind me. Sand was now all I possessed, all I thought of, all I loathed in this mad world. Then, sand cried out in relief as I was once more tfuown and left, stranded, high on the sand from which I had first come. Wearily I lifted my head, and tears of sand and salt poured out of my eyes as I retched the last reminder of this ordeal from within me. Sand was under my nails, blocking my thoughts and here was I, spread on the sand, thankful for sand. Thankful that now I was calm and had command, once more, of every limb. The sun beat mercilessly down upon me, ignorant of how I had despaired of ever acknow- ledging its warm rays again. Slowly I rose and trudged, away from sand and sun' Julie Mott IVC

AWAY FROM SAND AND SUN A hot day, and the sea held promises of cool relief. Far out a faint lightening of the brilliant azute water told of a sandbank. There I would be alone with my thoughts, to ponder on my life and dreams, to imagine a future bright and secure' I entered the water, tingling as the frosted waves played about me. I fought my way through the oncoming waves that jostled and tumbled until I passed into the area of calm rolls instead of foaming dumpers' I rose and fell, as one with the sea around me. Pustring off, I prepared to swim to the sandbank. Far below me myriads of tiny fish could be seen darting in and out among the seaweed and algae. The sandbank was no longer discernible among the rising waves. I hadn't realised how far out the sandbank was but still, I kept on, undaunted, picturing for myself the peace I would find. Fifteen minutes of swimming and still no sight of sand to stand on. Behind me, away in the distance I observed the high cliffs of the coast. Reluctantly I turned back, I could swim forever and still not find the sandbank. Swimming this way was easier, the tide was with me. Turning round to view the sea as I swam on my back, I noticed a hugh wave headed towards me,like a dragon already foaming at the mouth. Fool that I am I had forgotten the incoming tide would cover the bank and now here was a huge wave about to break upon me because of that hidden bank. What should I do? Swim or dive? Heeding my father's oft repeated

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DRAMATICMONOLOGUE AMPIIETAMINE ADDICT

WHEN TIME SEEMS TO STAND STILL. The minutes swept around the clock face, Wtere time flew, yott cannot trace. Was it only yesterday? It seemed like an eternity. Wten time itself seerned to stand still, Asyou waited and watched him ill. If he could only make it through the night, Till the break of day and morning light. There was a chance you thought, If you tried and fought. For you to be there, when he colled, There he lry so frail and white And yourself, you had to fight

I'm sitting on a chipped halfpainted chair My feet are icy and my elbows are nearly stuck to the gfotty table by my nervous sweat. Grey fills the room. Grey fills me. No colour in my mind; no thought but the ritual before me. all is bleak. the task, the rut, the futile In the vacuum of the sense-less morning. TWelve little white pills sitting in a row- followed by nine pink ones Go baby go. The twelve that judge my rhythm - my pounding and the flow of my blood await. I catch a whtff - and stomach convulsesas though Sripped in a metol vice that settles on my sickened throat. Hate, Iate. ilfy master in so many ways It poisons me - the stench of the oblong demons nwst be forced down my neck to reek in my childhood fitmmy and veins. Diseasing me. ll[y water awaits me in a greasy glass e Oh-we can take over a gram without water * but it helps to cleanse the stagnant taste of amphetomine addict. The first is down - my fingers are coated with the repugntnt odour. The second and third - the sixth is stuck-andlgasp. I shake - and it shakes mg And so on slowly to the end of my twelve white judges. drudgery. Even the pounding of last night's headache is numbing Now you lotow why they call it a ritual. The remaining nine are calm-me4owns To stop the over-step, over-shock, over-nerves overdose- Soneryl - pretty little soldiers. I line them up and vmtch them fly. Always two I take from uch end and one from the middle: Hey4iddle4iddle, what a fiddle the ueep only gave me foutteen for my money's (worth)? And tonight there'll only be five to get me to the land of sleep I never visit But now is the time. now.- now. Ihere's no fhsh as I haven't got a needle And the grelt still washes through my mind. Tlacy Alexander VA

Instead of away lest he fall. What a battle did take place, It showed in your face.

That while he fought for h^ W, You fought to be calm in the strifu. So you couldhelp himinrelief, And that you knew, was your belief.

Iilendy Spranklin IVB

Jenny Andrews.

Pages of words of a lonely world Of the day in the park when noone talked A at funchwhere he sat olone Or the hours he spent in his old grey room Or the hall-way where noone walked AII is written in an untidy scrawl. fu he relates his W of solitude And writes on the old grey pper His world within two faded covers htt to the readers not muning a thing.

- pain is like heartache - ruptured blips.

Robyn Abbey.

-loneliness is the chair in which you sit and think, and you can only sit

A.W.

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Mary Williams, SB.

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SLAB HUT Nature smiles knowingly As pass dawns, days, dusks. Strangers black come, Strangers white come - Others go. And inwardly frowning CJtnically she smiles. Silence, Dead-pan-nothing. Yet no! Nature Through brushing bark And song birds sweet Wispers; Through sun-glissed leaves Sees; Through silent trunks Hears. Forgotten, Peeling, Roof-holed Door-lost,

DESERTED HOUSES The wind groaned. The roof creaked. Rusted sheets of iron hung lifelessly. The stillness and the loneliness, the utter desertion and the air of emptiness gave an atmosphere of bleak isolation. Even the scrub sur- rounding the house in the clearing was devoid of life. Perhaps the branches quivered a little in the breeze, but they were really as dead as the termite-eaten fence posts that stood, stark and grey in a small circle about the crumbling ruin. Most of the wooden slats that had once made up a verandah were missing and the door had long been gone. Maybe the inside of the house would be better to look at. But who would want to enter a room now inches thick in dust, with the chimney fallen in, dim and dull and silent, where once had been a warm fue, the sound of happy laughter, the shine of fine silver, a comfortable sofa, a bright rug and the soft light of oil lamps. Likewise, who would wish to see a room with earthern floor, rusted hooks and cracked tubs, where once had been a roaring fire and shining pans, scrubbed floor and fresh curtains. Yes, perhaps such houses are better left alone, to continue their silent vigil in peace. "Dounia Aminah" Form II

Branch beaten, Sheep-sheltered, Lost - The old slab hut. And k-nowingly Nature smiles.

Heather Torney 68

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WOMEN'S N,TEERAT{ON _ WHO WANT'S TT? Wake up, wake up! I open my eyes - the room is dark still, a few wanton rays sneak througli the closed venetians and stripe the finger-printed blue wall' Just another five minutes - I couldn't face the day without these few moments of quiet reflection. I lie, putting off the moment when I must face the reality ofday, but I am haunted by thoughts of my existence. trn my mind, I go over the motions of my daily routine. I raise myself and with an automatic action, reach for my dressing-gown, then the slippers, a quick glance in the mirror and I comb over my ruffled locks. Off to the kitchen - there's tne breakfast to prepare and the children to get off to school, then theie's the shopping to do, and a Parents' and Cit2ens' Meeting at one b'clock. What a busy day - I won't have time to think about how bored I am, how free I was just a few years ago. Of course, I was young then, living in a flat with other girls, going out every night. I'd arrive home from work, eat a hurried meal, shower and dress. I used to love that. I spent most of my salary on make-up and clothes. Then one boy- friend or other would call, we'd go out somewhere- good times. I didn't have much time to think then either - funny, now that I remember it. My dates, so- considerate, treated me as fragile, lavished on me all the things a true woman desires. So different now' Then I was looking for a husband, Every time I had a date, I'd imagine myself as his wife, test out his name with mine, imagine myself living with him. All that dating was to try to gain what I have now' Ha. I shouldn't have wasted my time and money. Think back further, further. Was there a time when I never thought of marriage as my fate? I can't remember it. LittlJ David from across the street proposed when we were both in pre-school, and since then I have never thought of myself as having another future. My mother's overheard conversations: "Jane Rob- inson, why she's twenty-three and not a beau's in sight. In a couple ofyears it'll be toa late. She'll be an old maid soon." Too late, too late, old maid, old maid, alone, alone, alone, Of course, I was always popular - there was never any doubt that I would catch a husband. Mother had great hopes for me. She thought I'd make a good match. She was right, of course. I married a doctor, very respectable, comfortably off with a promising career in front of him. I won't ever have to work - Bill says that he can provide for both of us, and there's no reason to get a job. People might think he couldn't afford to keep me! and then there's the house to look after and Bill needs a hostess for dinner parties, and then there's the children...He needs me so much, he couldn't do without me. Lots of women are envious of me - the doctor's wife, you know she's got it made: a beautiful home, two cars, holidays at Surfers' Paradise. Why, why is it then that I am so, so bored? Why do I hate myselfl Why do I hate life? I am a hater now, once I was a lover...wasn't I? I was free once.,.

L'futxTe.r

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wasn't I? Didn't I do whatever I wanted to do, go wherever I wanted and with rvhomever I wanted to go with? Didn't? Didn't I? $1ho wants Women's Liberation? This woman does - she's lucky, she is coming close to knowing what she wants. But what about the millions of women ivho are bored, listless, sick of life, but don't or won't know what is wrong with them? The women who are being used and call it being needed, the women who can'timagine a life different from the one they live even though they are restless and dissatisfied. Millions of women have been conditioned into thinking that they iue second-rate, a few of them have admitted this and tried to do something about it. They know they want liberation, the others want liberation but don't know it. Instead they drift along, wondering what is the matter with them, and acting out the role which is strangling them. Who wants Women's Liberation? Very few men! They have 'got it good' with their unpaid jacks-of-all- trades. Wry would tley want to change thi situation? So they make bawdy jokes about bra-burning, and their women laugh as loud as they do. Ha ha.

Mary Williams.

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relief to all. Very quickly the computers were now set to work inventing^a pruiti"ul method of making the people of earth deaf. iftt nttul result was a metal capsule con- taining molecules which were to stop the nervous systeri of the ear ever responding. In one ^second, a ,rnt. to advanced and so natural to man of previous generations would be destroyed by the consumption of iust one of these capsules' Noise was a torture so tempting and so hated that earth's race took the capiule without the sliglrtest caution or .wariness. -Now the people of Earth lived in silence - a silence so cherished when noise was the weapon to murder earth's people. But the noise still existed on the outside;only the people were on the inside unable to hear a sound. The extremity of the endless noise and vast silence had a strange effect on the people of earth. Silence became even more torturous than the noise had previously. A terrible fear enclosed the deaf human 6eings. They strained to hear the horrible noise of their former life. Silence was driving them to insanity. . ' . Cassie Balchin 4A * * *

E,AR.T[T 2173 Noise! Tedious, interminable noise!

Eafih 2173 was a hazy globe slowly dissolving into the atmosphere. It was a planet dominated by eternal noise; lormented by the endless thrashing, bangng, skidding, scraping, roaring thunderous sounds intermingled with the screams of those who were being driven to insanity by it. Would it ever cease? Woula there be just one fraction of a second lived by the inhabitants of earth without the eternal din? Earth no longer knew nature and every form of life including, the human beings', was artificial. From the moment of birth, a child had a stark looking mark attached to its face, connected to a small in' built tank which held a constant supply of the necessary gases essential to physical life. The older people on earth used a highly developed communi cation system in substitute for speaking. It was named the "commucate." Messages were transmitted from the person's brain to his small "commucate" and relayed to his partner's "commucate" dnd back to his brain. It involved minute antenna syst"ems and very deep concentration in order for the antenna to respond to the thought. Trees, flowers and trickling striams no longer existed. In their place were the monotonous rows and rows of metallic domes in which the population lived. Yes, nature was an ancient and foreign word in2l73 to the people of earth. More and more people were dying because of the unbearable noise. Long periods of agonising fits of insanity led up to a slow death as the human brain faced a piercing deterioration. Death haunted every- body's thoughts - a painfui death which would be inevitable if a solution was not devised quickly. The numbers of the world population dropped so swiftly that the torturous noise actually threatened the very survival ofthe people ofearth. lVhat was the answer the sane people were so desperately trying to readr? Every computer was used in the perplexing task but this problem did not require the useless facts, figures and formulas of a mas of mechanized machines. It needed the logic of a human brain. The noise could not possibly stop- This was certain. Too many machines alone were needed for processing the substitute food essential for the people to stay alive a day. Also there were the mechanical 'monsters' used for producing and placing the metallic domes further info the earttr's crust and further towards the sun's rays until expansion was impossible. Transpor- tation could not be stopped or else confusion would take over entirely. Countless other causes of the increased noise operated and countless could not be halted or else the world would have had even more problems. If the noise could not be stopped they must stop the people from hearing it. The oniy slight chance for survival was to make the people go deaf! Once this suggestion was formulate8 the inhabitants of the planet did not go into detail of negative and affirm' ative views. Silence was a word that would bring t{ f[]

THOUGHT A flitting world Of flowing fantasy That sinks into

Nice legs that one, Good ftgre - though a little skinnY., Nothingness

A dreamy fountain Of drooling mystery That swirls away from Funny day. Started cloudy and now the suns n glarey - Reality A shorply deftned Spilcy substance That pulls the Iwonder why Ifie tive in houses when caves tre so very practical. Thoughts

From their mazy dePths To the terrible coldness Of the world.

IVD

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PARENTS no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, norno,no,no,no, NO,NO,NO NO!

Annette TYson 4A

"When did we see Thee hungry, and fed Thee not? l,l/hen did we see Thee thirsty, and gave Thee naught to drink? When wert Thou a stdnger, sick, or in pison,

,,. . . AND THY NEIGHBOUR' .," Two hnppy toddlers, ramping in the sun, .-- ^ iitrnc iiri" by sstne cuq bY tutns; one wears-a fresh cotton playsuit, the other, a pair of grubbY Pants - no ftwtter, Life ts worth shming! A silent schoolgirl, unrmd book open on her knees, catches the glance of a laughtng favourite, secure in the centre of her grouP' "I am a stranger: welcome me!" Gay eyes drop, turn nonchalantly away - Don't care' The young undergradttate, pondering the merits of a Ditsun-orrr o Cortfuta, notices a poster at the end of a conidor, "I am naked: clothe me!" Ilatted steps continue, passing the collection box - Won't care. A well-to-do business mnn, about to leave for a board meeting, glancing through the mnil, notices an old mmrade's wife, "He is sick: visit him! in prison: comfort me!" Aock strikes seven, letters brushed aside - C-an't care' side for lunch, drinking milk ftom the

and we did not minister unto Thee? ,And the King shall answer them: Tluly, truly,I wY to You, as you did it not to one of these, you did it not to me."

Ilelen Gehrmsnn 64

MOODS I am restless Like the leuves uqon a tree When the wind begins to shnke them loose from boughs I am angry Like the sea, with white-capped woves Wten it pounds against the rocks upon the shore. I am alone Like a camel in the desert Iflhen it wanders from its caravan in the desert. And I am hateful Like a storm destroYtng nature When it seeks revenge, Oeating havoc, destroying all creafion. [.yn Utting WC

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F'SR.ST' THOUGHTS ABOUT EASTER Just an ordinary man Who mme up in the world And was out of his time Wtth healing. Only a normal guy

T'HE {,,AST OF' L[F'E, F'OR. WF{[CF{ T'f{E WAS M,ADE She opens her eyes. TVte room k glowing with gentle morning sun. She smiles and breathes in deeply, and the air is clean and fresh and sweet, for it is early yet and there are few cqrs on the rood, She feels the sheets cool against her uital, but faded body, and sinks further into the pillow to savour the quiet beginning of her day. Age is the soft greyness of ha hair and the contentment in her eyes. The young girl is bounding through the trees, laughing out abud with sheer ioy and then throws herself on to the grass, breathtng quickly to recover her breath. Now the wild burst of ecstasy subsides, and becomes a quiet sensation of intense and over- whelming happiness. Everything for this one pedect hour is wonderful. The sun is warm und brilliant blue and green. The exuberance of nnture and youth bubbles os one. She steps carefully ocross the grass, to her seat beneath the trees. The quiet wtthin her steals sll around her, and sitting there she quietly and deeply loves life. Yesterday it rained, but today is beautiful. Ihese are days for memories - gently, unobstrusive memories she wouldn't dream of completely surrendering this present to the past. The pleasure of both worlds is hers. The young woman lies silently in the dark. Her hand rests softly on the sleeping shoulder of the young man by her side. Their gently rhythmic breathing fills the silence, and satisfaction floats in the air. The young man stirs and is awake - their eyes, bright in the moonlight, meet, and he gently draws her to him. She watches, through the wtndow, the brightness of .middny calmly fade. The longness of afternoon closes in, and the bustling for evening begins. There is pleasure in darkness for her, but still she shivers shChtly as she senses the tiredness and dustiness of the day, longing for the night. The pale woftnn in black looks unseeingly ahead. Her dreams and love must be with her through death, but half of her is numb. Sadness whispers loneliness, and quietly she succumbs. Then through the twilight, before darlmess, comes understanding. One lift ts complete and now hers must be fulfilled. Delight in Itft returns, and her eyes come alive again. Niqht - the last of day - and luffiment and satisfaction sweep over her. She closes her eyes. Helen Hambling 6C coo - love is when you heor on the radio that your suburb is o slum, but you always thought it was home.

Wo got hold of A nutty god idm And convinced himself it was true.. A somebody who got killed instead of going to the madhouse - And told twelve idiots to follow him

because he could save. Just an ordirwry man Wto can get us to heaven And fuffi a fairy+ale Because - Some ordirnry people Needed reassurunce.

s.w.

THE BURIAL Down Down Further, deeper Dmker Darker Light is wantng Aoser Aoser To the bottom

Wile in a box of polished wood Death is being suspended by ropes.

Anna Zantiotis 5D

THE THOUGHTS OF AN OUTCAST A groin of sand

on an ever-extending shore, is significont within itself; yet in relevance to the beach all identity is lost and it bemmes nothing. . . A man is like a grain of sand: to himself he is nothing. . . A millian people, self contained, treading the track of lift in urwwareness; lmitted in a web of love with a chosen few; and never-exceeding the boundary to reach out to outcasts like me. he moybe consequential ; yet amid a cruel world

Ar" Anonymous Rock

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