Grandchildren

John Muir Trust Writing Competition  – Wild Inside

colleen Grandchildren, Poetry , , , ,

Thomas Keating-Jones wins the Bronze Medal in the John Muir Writing Competition – Wild Inside for his poem in the under 18 year old section

 

 

It speaks as a 9 year old  boy in lockdown. 

I think this tree is smiling 

I think this tree is smiling 

With the light of the sunshine warming up it’s tiny new green leaves 

I also feel like smiling 

as the sun washes away the darkness in our hearts 

I think that tree is smiling 

With happiness and joy, as I look through a window

where the cherry blossoms danced in the wind

Gone now 

Time is passing

I think my tree is smiling 

As he knows his role in the world 

I can feel it’s strong branches 

It can feel my tiny hands 

I am up in its canopy hidden from the lockdown world 

My view is special and just for me 

I think this tree is smiling 

Smiling straight at me

I feel like smiling

I feel free 

Thomas Keating-Jones  

9 years old

 May 30th 2020

John Muir Trust Writing Competition  – Wild Inside

Under-18s Poetry

Winner: Jane

Linda Cracknell said: “This writer has created a great form for their poem,

 including lovely rhythm which makes it excellent to read aloud, 

and it’s clever, showing the human is clearly part of the natural world.”

Silver: Eliza

Bronze: Thomas

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What must our world do to build up its resilience ?

colleen Grandchildren, Poetry , , , , , ,

Below is a video of  Thomas reading  his new poem . Press IMG 9763 to hear him with his purple hair being a wild child not only in ISO and in Lockdown loving home-schooled in England but  at this time being on a summer holiday.

IMG_9763

What must our world do to build up its resilience ?

For me the answer is Listen to our children. Have hope in our children. Believe our world will be in good hands.
This then will make us work harder NOW  to leave the world the best we can
so the children of tomorrow  can say
we see the way for on the shoulders of giants we stand.

 

Thomas inspires me with his thoughts and words and expressions .

His poetry speaks to us all.
His voice speaks to us in hope that our young are on the way to make a difference.

I

What might become of earth

The air is Her great breath of life
The waves and ripples are the folds of Her cloak
The trees are Her garden
flowering in Her loving care
demonstrating her ethereal presence.
The Sun is Her eye to Earth.
Her glorious gateway to our world
We are a small part of her creation.
If we stand for nothing what we we fall for?
If we do not say enough when will it be?
If we are never satisfied when will our planet be stripped bare?
Barren
A void.
On the winds of time now come the winds of change
Who knows what might become of Earth. 

 

Thomas doing what he loves to do, using his words and his voice to make a difference.

A Hope-Daisy by Little Miss E.

colleen Grandchildren, Poetry , , , , ,

   

Eleanor at work

A HOPE-DAISY

The daisy with all her hopes inside                    

It has her love inside it

My daisy is smiling right at us

The daisy is full of hope

to try and stop lockdown

It might just look like a daisy

but it is a hope-daisy for love

and for the children

by Eleanor Therese Keating-Jones

   

 

(Above photo:  A plaster cast of a Daisy made in home schooling)

Our little poet Eleanor at work

 

 

 

 

Shared Footprints by Michael and Colleen Keating

colleen Grandchildren, Poetry, Poetry Collection now available , , , , , , ,

 

Shared Footprints  is a Picaro Poets chap book perfect for your pocket when out on a walk or perched on an outcrop of rock overlooking the ocean.   Order it through Ginninderra Press .

Over the past two years Michael and I have done a seasonal beach walk each season from  Tuggerah Lake,  The Entrance Beach around the headland to Blue Bay,  around the rock platform to Toowoon Bay and along the beach  for a Cafe breakfast  at Toowoon Bay Life Savers Club and then  we walk back .

We walk quietly with notepad and pen and jot down what we observe.  Over the years we have put our thoughts down  side by side in response to the beach,  the seasons and each other.  We put this manuscript to Brenda Eldridge from Ginninderra Press as a possible Picaro Poets Chap book. It was accepte,   formatted and published. It is  for people to enjoy nature hoping to stimulate deeper awareness in us all.

Available now from www.ginninderrapress.com.au  /picaro poets and scroll down to our name.

It is divided into four sections

Spring: New Beginnings
Summer: Under a Melting Sun
Autumn : Tumble of Ocean
Winter: Our Shadows Long

Just a few examples

sea pattern
periwinkle meander
in the interidal zone   MK

 

 

 

we quicken pace
as wind leans in
hand warm together  CK

 

DEDICATION

for our grandchildren, our little castle builders, channel diggers, treasure collectors

may they all be star throwers.

The Star Thrower*

  One dawn, a man was walking along the shore.

   he noticed a young person reaching down to the sand, 

   picking up something 

  and very gently throwing it back into the sea. 

As he got closer, he called out, 

“Good morning! What are you doing?”

 The young person paused, looked up and replied, 

“Throwing starfish into the sea.”

“Why are you throwing starfish into the sea?” he asked.

“The sun is up and the tide is going out. If I don’t throw them in they’ll die.” 

“But, don’t you realise that there are miles of beach here 

 and starfish all along it. How can you possibly make a difference?”

The young person listened politely. 

Then knelt down, picked up another starfish 

and threw it  safely into the sea, past the breaking waves and said…

“Made a difference to this one.”

* Loren Eiseley  (adapted)

Thank you to  Picaro Poets to Brenda Eldridge who gives such inspiration, affirmation and support

Easter Sunday 2020

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Easter 2020

 

There is Alleluia in this morning in our heroes.
Easter is in them as they rise to bring, save, comfort, give life in our world.
From cleaners to the top scientists, from shop assistants to nurses and doctors those on the front line and first responders. May we all give them honour and gratitude .For us in our compassionate retreat we can only be grateful.

“Nature does not hurry yet everything is accomplished” . She has suffered painfully this summer . Now she has a little breather to find herself again.

Here is a dawn photo this morning from the terrace  in our time of self isolating which we are terming our compassionate retreat. The second photo a tree atching the Easter sunrise before we received it. Love the gold the first gift of morn.

Easter Morning 2020

Kookaburras wake us singing.
Dawn.
The sun is rising.
An amazing expanse of pink sky.
Magpies are warbling again in the nearby tree ( all summer in smoke-choked air they didn’t sing )
The moon in her silver shoon
journeys west in quiet stillness.
The birds are singing more than ever.

The sweet scent of the lemon balm Eucalypt
and the newly budgeoning buds of the sasanquas fill the air.
All our families are safe at home, some camping in their backyards, some doing Easter bunny hunts in their own gardens.
No hectic trips to church .
No frantic last minute shopping for celebratory functions.
No one has been in traffic jams.
No one is racing heither and thiether to keep important dates or to take the planned Easter holiday.
And not a plane in the sky.
The air is crisp and fresh.

Easter 2020
when we all stayed home
in compassionate retreat

Practiced physical distancing
Not social distancing for Facetime and Zoom are a miracle of social communication . It is physical distancing we face daily which of course for grandparents who love being with their grandchildren is extremely painful.
I am a poet in residence . Normally you would pay a fortune to have that experince .

Seeing the world through childrens’ eyes

colleen General, Grandchildren, Poetry , , , , , ,

 

 

 

Seeing the world through children’s eyes. 

When the tide recedes beyond the horizon
and the underbelly of the sea is exposed
for little adventurers, Edison and Darcy
the rock platform is a necklace of pools
shimmering like emeralds and full of treasure.

Worry of slipping and falling is not their concern
they hop from rock to rock                                                    
clamber about down on their tummies
their shining eyes
reflected in the mirrored sea.

Everything is magical and extraordinary
Come here, quick Grandma 
the crabs are humongous. 
a scuttle of creatures disappear in our shadow
making us wait quietly
pretending we’re not here
as the rocks curl with camouflaged
crustaceans creeping out
and pincers like boxing gloves
point up at us.                                                    

In their eyes there is wonder
as red anemones sway the waves
as the molluscs trail into patterns
as starfish wash up like gift
as a sting ray glides past their toes
as these curious boys
learn to be respectful of the living world

Seeing the world through children’s eyes
makes me happy to be alive
as we steal out to the edge of the sea
and look for whales
as we dig in the sand on the edge of the beach
as we allow gentle laps of waves
to fill our canals and tunnels
and moats to protect our castles
until Darcy sees more fun in jumping
on them as quick as we can  mould the sand
seeing the world through children’s eyes

Colleen

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Elephants by Tyler Jack Little

colleen Grandchildren, Poetry , , , , ,

Elephants

for Ellie

 

Elephants     by Tyler

 

Elephants are humongous.

They are light, silvery-grey.

They use their trunks

to eat and drink .

In water they like to play.

Their tusks are very strong

And they use them to crunch boulders

 

My elephant is very gentle

when he snuggles on my shoulders

My elephant is soft and small

 I always sleep with him at night

He keeps me warm  and protected

And always makes me feel right

Tyler Jack Little  (8 year old)

Story of the Homeless Man by Edison with help of his Mum

colleen General, Grandchildren , , , ,
Story of the Homeless Man by Edison with help of his Mum

Story of the homeless man

We were going to the shops and we saw a homeless man. He had a stick and we were wondering what he was doing. We thought he could be making a fire to keep him warm but we were wrong. We thought he was carving a pencil but we were wrong.

When my mum asked him what was he making, he told us he was trying to make a frame. He told me how he was going to make the frame but sadly he did not have everything he needed. He explained to me that he would need some wood glue to glue the sticks together.

My mum and I said “good luck” and we went to do our shopping.

 

Later that day, I asked my mum “How much is wood glue?” She didn’t know. I told her I have $74 and if that was enough money to buy wood glue, maybe I could buy it for the homeless man to help him make his frames.

My mum and I went to the shops and bought some wood glue, we found the homeless man and we gave it to him. He said thank you.

As we walked back to our car a big smile filled my face and I felt great. With my big smiling face I told my mum “I’m a bucket filler!!!!”

By Edison Hay (with a little help from my mum)  

 

 

EDISON AND HIS MUM

H

Carried on the Wings of Time by Thomas Keating Jones

colleen Grandchildren , , , ,

Congratulations to my Grandson Thomas, a wonderful young poet who received Highly Commended Award at the recent prestigious  Myall Creek  Memorial Day Poetry Competition.

This is the second year he has been awarded  a prize at at this poetry competition.

2019 ‘Myall Creek Memorial schools art, writing & song competition

The Friends of Myall Creek Committee invite all school children from years K to 12 to participate in its annual ‘THOUGHTS AND DREAMS’ competition. The theme this year?

         ‘Living Lingo … International Year of Indigenous Languages’

CARRIED ON THE WINGS OF TIME.

by Thomas

As Languages fall through the air,

carried on the winds of time,

some fade, disappear,

become echoes of the way it was . . .

an echo we struggle to hear,

as we work on how it should be.

All the languages new and old hold power.

People learn and differ with them.

It is the lyrical key to the vault of volumes of knowledge,

kept in the magic of the voice,

in the retelling,

like a spell to conjure

…to learn.

You have to explore and engage

to find

in language is hope,

preservation

protection

tradition.

We need to speak out,

to be heard.

to keep it alive…

so life is not lost in translation.

Last year Thomas received a book voucher and an Australian book.

We are awaiting this years award.

Here is last years poem by Thomas.

Little Miss G and her first poem

colleen Grandchildren , , , , ,

My Rainbow

My rainbow is colourful

red green yellow blue orange

It has white fluffy clouds

I wish I could stand on the rainbow and dance

Little Miss G  sometimes called Bridgie for short gave  me her first beautiful poem to decorate my wall. She was so excited and of course I am proud of my little 4 year old, especially the way she looks after her baby brother and helps her Mummy every day.