Patio Contemplation

By Brian John Pollock, 77. Brighton VIC “Out on the patio, we’d sit”Is an iconic Australian song line,A lyric conjuring powerful imageryFor Australians, so sublime. A simple pleasure for manyTo sit alone contemplating life,Out on the patio, glass in handTemporary respite from trouble and strife. For me serious contemplationIs best done outdoors, Perhaps it’s because it… Continue reading Patio Contemplation

Merry Christmas, Summer Christmas

By Lindsey-Jane, 70. Adelaide, SA Christmas for most people in Adelaide begins with our famous Christmas pageant, which is one of the best of its kind in the world and the biggest in the Southern Hemisphere. It's been a huge hit for the Adelaide population since 1933, so they've had lots of practice at making… Continue reading Merry Christmas, Summer Christmas

Ode to Bondi Beach

By Brian John Pollock, 77. Brighton VIC I’m a twenty-something male, hale and heartyAnd like most people my age enjoy a party.I live in the greater Sydney LGAAnd go to Bondi beach nearly every day. I go to work and pay my taxesI’m not one of your anti-vaxers.I’m waiting ‘til the jab queues start to… Continue reading Ode to Bondi Beach

The Christmas Pudding

By Peter, 70. South Fremantle, WA For my mother, and Norman Lindsay, who first alerted me to the magic, and mischief, of puddings. There’s just a month to go. So Mum’s preparing shopping lists: flour, suet, sugar, raisins, ginger, lemons, cherries, mixed fruits, treacle or golden syrup. Watching out for bargains at the co-op. Sticking… Continue reading The Christmas Pudding

Shekels Enough

By Sally Ryhanen, 73. Caloundra, QLD I am a refugee from the corporate world with a disability — a 70-year-old Protestant work ethic — that has been sharpened, honed and weaponised for self-harm. I spawned a child with the same fierce ethic and christened him Obligation. A very nasty child, with an ugliness surpassed only… Continue reading Shekels Enough

Geranium Decor

By Leonie, 78. Port Fairy, VIC A small geranium pokes its pink face through a hole in the fenceSiblings spread out in a riot of colours behind.Bright leggy blooms in patches so denseNeglected, half spent in the westerly windCrowding the path to a once fine weatherboard houseWith splayed grey boards like hag’s teeth creaking in… Continue reading Geranium Decor

Adrian’s Adventures to Australia

By Adrian Crawford, 67. Mt Barker, SA Click the arrow above to hear Adrian read his "Adventures to Australia". My name is Adrian Crawford and I live in Adelaide, South Australia. I’ve been a storyteller since I was six years old, though it took me to my twenties to truly discover that. I am a… Continue reading Adrian’s Adventures to Australia

I Was Only 16

By Margo Knox, 73. Gold Coast, QLD It wasn’t an innocent gestureThe piercing whistle came from oneWhile the others nodded  The scaffolding blocked the footpathA thankful roundabout walk of younger yearsA safety switch from the predation of young menWho did not see privilege in their actionBut a right to covert the bodies of othersFor their… Continue reading I Was Only 16

Citizen of the World

By Mo Ors, 76. Gold Coast, QLD Contrary to the common belief that migrants in Australia mostly come from poor, uneducated economic and cultural backgrounds, I’m one of the many examples to dispel that notion. I arrived in Australia in the 1960s as a teenager with my parents who were both professional people, affluent, and… Continue reading Citizen of the World

My Body, My Ancestresses

By Gabrielle Everall, 54. Fitzroy, VIC TRIGGER WARNING: Sexual violence. I occupy and write on stolen land. My body was stolen on the stolen land that my ancestors stole. I inherit violence. I inherit intra-familial sexual abuse. I fell heir to sexual violence. Intra-familial sexual abuse was passed down to me. My foremothers had intra-familial… Continue reading My Body, My Ancestresses

They Write

By Leonie, 78. Port Fairy, VIC The next generation ... or two, they writeway out and weird they writein paranormal spheres they writeof cobras and pythons, media savvy snakesarranging dates ... hello! have you ever ...let’s meet; they writeof aliens in vinyl skinsin a state of dislocation; they writewith lines of text all over the… Continue reading They Write

All Day in Retirement

By Ross, 73. Perth, WA I’m prone on the loungeroom couchwhen sunlight beam strikesthe mantelpieceslicking a China dog’s faceteasingmy one opened eye our book club book, one of my fewwindows to the outsideattempted afreshbetween short bouts of drowsingsame five-word sentence, over and over… daydreaminguntil the dogs bring on lunchtimeby licking the fingersat the end, of… Continue reading All Day in Retirement

When I Rule the World

By Sue, 69. Aberfoyle Park, SA Don't you often think to yourself  'when I rule the world...' as some aspect of today's living drives you to despair? Welcome to my despot fantasy, where it's not a matter of 'if' but THINGS WILL CHANGE. Remember, in my fantasy, I am dictator now — an omnipotent presence. Rules… Continue reading When I Rule the World

Remembering the Fifties: Needles and Pins

By Lindsey-Jane, 70. Adelaide, SA Back in the fifties, many people were home sewers. Department stores and drapers' shops were chock full of rolls of beautiful fabrics in a vast array of colours and designs. One of the best sewers was my Nanna. Ever since I was old enough to remember, she'd made dresses for me… Continue reading Remembering the Fifties: Needles and Pins

Seventies Semaphore: A Memoir

By Andrew Piper, 75. Woodcroft, SA My story recounts memories of Semaphore and environs of the mid-seventies and a character I knew well who lived on the Semaphore Esplanade. Let's just call her Ester for the purposes of our story. I have flighty memories of people and places of that time, and my impressions of… Continue reading Seventies Semaphore: A Memoir

Of Dipping and Grey Aliens

By Peter, 70. South Fremantle, WA Whatever colour things were,whatever Dad put in the waterturned us then everything elsescummy; transformed sheepinto grey aliens — sleek-headed,snake-eyed, daring to bare teeth. I don’t recall it ever rainingduring Dipping Week when,over-excited, I ran alongsidethat murky baptismal trough,sometimes into Dad’s armholding me back from slipping,when I’d check his hazel… Continue reading Of Dipping and Grey Aliens

Charcoal Sketches

By Steve, 65. Aldinga, SA black charcoal sketches on my flat screen tv skeleton trees,broken buildings,rubble everywhereon another channel,pageant queenswant world peaceback to reality,to the contrast of barren streetshumbled citizens in any warmclothing they can findnow,it's all about how to survivesolemnly they leavethe place they've called homeoppression,has been drawn on my tvI turn it off, andgo to… Continue reading Charcoal Sketches