December 1943 School Magazine

:Brisbane Girls' Grammar School Magazine

December, 1943

December, 1943

Brisbane Girls' Grammar School ·Magazine

JUMBLED THOUGHTS. "Gosh! I must write something for the magazine. But what? a poetic gem?-Now, you know your mind doesn't run to rhymes or metres, Shirley!-a sketch or design? that's definite- ly out of the question. Well, that leaves only a story or a piece of prose-original, of course. "Hmmm. "In this atmosphere one can hardly breathe, let alone think. I think there's going to be a-that's it! a storm! " 'The lightning flashed! the thunder roared!' No, I think I've heard that somewhere before. Now, I'm going to get this written before the storm breaks. I hope the rain won't spoil my tennis to-morrow. "Really, Shirley, you must concentrate! That's all right but on what? I can't write on a storm! Beside, there will most like- ly be lots of entries about storms after this one. "Now, what's been happening lately? Well, no great event, certainly, but jacarandas have been making the city beautiful. As you walk into the schol you can see a lovely sight. - "The big jacarandas near the gate carpet the white gravel with their blossoms and, further down, sheltered by the school on one side and trees on the other, is a lovely, cool, green -garden and, further down again, is another big, green tree, seeming to guard against heat entering the col, shadowy place . Surely I could wax poetic over such things and change my prosaic words into something resembling poetry. "But I think that's easier said than done. I sharpened ihree new pencils to start my work of art and now two points are broken and the ends chewed beyond recognition. The result of all this is a head full of jumbled thoughts and a piece of paper with a few scratched out words and numbers of scrawls and heads and wriggles on it." "The only thing I can do is to transpose these thoughts on to paper and this is the results." Shirley Jackson, IV.C. THE ROAD TO MY HOME. As the crimson sun sank in the western sky, he gently caressed with tapering fingers the hoary beard of the old squat- ier, filling it with gold and contorting the strong outlines of his sunburnt face. Ned sat contentedly smoking his old clay pipe and meditating on the beauty of the Australian sunset. Soon his thoughts switched back to the days of his youth. He and

MISTER FRACKELTON. The Girls Grammar School has a lovely new pet, The dearest little Sydney Silky ever you have met. The day when we first met him, he was shy as shy can be, But he quickly los t his shyness, as everyone can see.

He leads the gayest little lile. Free from worry, free from strife, He loves the schoolgirls one and all, But dearer still he loves his ball. One day we thought we'd lost him, Oh, what a hapless day , We travers8d all the countryside, Fearing he had gone astray. That evening, just before our tea, In comes Mister, from his spree! How bedraggled he did seem, And he alone, knew where he'd been. But still we Jove our little pup, And to him, a toast we'll sup, May his little life be long, Amid the Gramn:tar's happy throng.

H. WELCH, lll.A.

MR. FRACKELTON. 40

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