Explore Writing is an activity where members participate in developing our writing skills, self expression and creativity in a safe and supportive environment. We all bring our own abilities and life experiences to the class which we use to explore different writing genres such as short stories, non-fiction, poetry and memoir.
Here is a selection of our writing which we would like to share.
Term Three 2025
Time Out – by Caroline
The Wood Sawyer – by Des
New Words – by Ann
Melbourne riverine city
unfurls before me
jagged skyscrapers
jostle for space
cars stream homeward
across the Westgate
ferris heel peeps
abandoned
from shrubbery
In the heart of the bush
where the tall trees stand
A sawyer works with a steady hand
With a sharpened saw and a strong arm
Clearing timber on the new family farm
The cross-cut saw sings through the wood so old
Gathering firewood to bear the winter’s cold
A lonely life, but a story told
In a place where old bush tales are told
There are thousands of words in the English language – mainly because of our propensity to borrow from other languages and make up new ones (thanks to Shakespeare for a lot of them). But with our modern lifestyle, I thought we needed some more words and/or phrases. Here are some I have created:
When your phone starts ringing as soon as you’re on the loo or in the shower.
SPRINKLE TINKLE
A tube of super glue
SINGLE WOMAN’S TOOL BOX
Unnneighbourly – by Phyl
Northern Lights – by Christine
My father furiously stormed through the back door. His red tartan dressing gown flapping, and blue striped pyjamas dripping with moisture. He had run back from the telephone box at the corner of our street after ringing the newsagent about his undelivered morning ‘Sun’ newspaper. The newsagent assured Dad that the paperboy was his usual one and was always reliable. The dis- appearance of the newspaper continued for several days.
Shades of pink, blue, green, grey
Dancing across the sky,
Gracefully twirling,
Weaving patterns,
The northern lights,
Displaying awe inspiring
magical moments.
Hoping one day to see the Northern Lights, Jim and I joined a cruise up the Norway coast one November. It had much promise but no guarantees. So many obstacles could prevent them being viewed but our optimism was high.
Term Two 2025
Ada: The mother of computers – by Ann
I was struggling with my dissertation about women in the computer industry and had hit a road block, so I decided to take myself away from everyday life and really knuckle down. I rented a small house in Hucknall, a market town in Nottinghamshire, where I would not be disturbed or made to socialise, shop, entertain, dine-out or any other distraction of modern-day life in London. It was just me and my laptop.
Blue Hues – by Phyl
Aqua, cobalt, the ultramarines, teal and indigo too
may not really provide much satisfaction for you,
but for me the vast assortment of
blue shades
have incited my inspiration for many decades.
Rodney the disgraced angel – by Des
Rodney was an angel in heaven who lived an existence ‘on the edge’. Over many millennia, he had incurred the wrath of God by his many risk taking adventures and snide remarks. Rodney was quite a selfish and unkind angel, ever looking out for himself and never sharing anything with the other angels. On one occasion he went a little too far.
Telegram to a pylon – by Annette
You stand in odd places. Here you are on the corner, wedged between old and new freeways, along empty back blocks, towering, ghostlike, watching, waiting. You are of this world, but not of this world.
Charles Edward Stuart- by Peter
Allow me to introduce myself. I am the original King Charles III – Charles Edward Stuart, the “Young Chevalier”, if you please, and certainly not the “Young Pretender”.
The Stuarts were Catholics. Great Uncle Charles II took the holy sacraments on his death bed, and having no legitimate heirs, his younger Catholic brother, my grandfather, James VII & II became King.
A beautiful intricate mould – by Chris
There is plenty of mould to see. It is everywhere after the flooding and the dampness that just won’t go away. The mould spreads sending tentacles in all directions. Reaching out for any corner r area that may stil be damp. Another disaster. As fast as the cleaning is happening, the mould reappears.
Term One – 2025
Do trees have a soul – by Peter
Dear tree, it has been in my mind for some time to ask you quite a profound question: Do you have feelings, or perhaps even a ‘soul’?
There are, and have been, many cultures who think this is true – Hindus, Mayans, Amazonians, some Catholics and philosoophers such as Aristotle.
The Otter- by Annette
A slivered sleekness
against his dark fur
a little rough
uncombed
nose to the wind
sensing
prey
he stares
straight ahead
with an alertness
like a caged rat
Urban Landscape – by Caroline
Newport summer morning / I wake up / a magpie’s chilled warble / hear / a rustle / see / flying leaf detritus / a bird excavates the garden bed / a dog whines incessantly / a whipper snipper whirrs / a wattle bird / spews up its screech / bees hum / hover over the salvia
The rabbits that ate New Zealand – by Ann
I was in a bus tavelling from Queenstown in the south island of New Zealand a few years ago. As we headed south along Lake Whakitipu to Glenorchy the bus driver kept us informed of areas of historical significance. I can’t remember of any of these little titbits, except one that caught my attention. Waving his arm vaguely over the surrounding countryside he said: “This is where rabbits were first introduced into New Zealand.”
Opting out of the rat race – by Des
When I was young our family lived in Morwell a country town in the Latrobe Valley. A couple of times a year my father would pack our family into his FJ Holden motor car and head to the so called ‘big smoke’ meaning Melbourne. Along the way he would often say that if you were living in the city you were part of the so called ‘rat race’. What he meant by that statement I was always unsure, until many years later towards the end of my working life.
Abandoned
– by Phyl
As an encroaching storm was moving fast, the sky above already overcast
I quickened my pace wishing I was home, warm and safe at last.
Suddenly I became aware of an unusual dark shape.
An unsightly blob, a blot on the suburban landscape.
A huge, faded brown leather reclining chair,
which seemed to convey a defiant, indignant glare,
sad dead centre in the middle circle of my court.
Landscape by Christine
Expedition vessel bobbing
in the clear blue ocean
littered with icebergs of various sizes
buffeted by bitter winds
the chill minus 20.
Walking on the deck
struggling to stay upright
a pod of whales appears
working together in a circle
mouths wide open diving for krill.