The Annual Mary Poppins Literary Competition for young writers and poets was established to commemorate the writer P L Travers (the creator of Mary Poppins) who was born in Maryborough, Qld.
Over the years enthusiastic young writers from across the region have showcased their creative talents via this competition.
Congratulations to the Years 3-6 winners of the Poetry category!
Poetry Winners Years 3-4
1st Place, Evie Brown
MY NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOUR’S MAGIC DOG
I have a secret.
Dogs are supposed to bark,
But I know one that wriggles his butt when he walks,
But also talks!
‘What’s your name?’
‘Will you be my friend?’
I heard him say in my mind.
‘I’ve been looking for one, but I’ve never had any before’.
He looked me in the eye and gave me his paw.
This is crazy!
My mind is going to blow up!
This dog is messing me up.
I just don’t know what to say.
Before I knew it, I said ‘okay.’
I have human friends,
But my dog friend is very special.
It makes me glad.
No one else knows about it,
I don’t want them to think I’m mad.
I think I’ll just keep it a secret for now.
2nd Place, Joel Bounsall
A BROOM STICK FOR A HOME
A broom stick is their home,
And in the bristles is where they play,
Their rooms are carved out of the handle,
And it’s always been this way.
It’s the little elves that live in there,
They are very small,
They could all fit through a keyhole,
But their chief is rather tall.
They can get up to mischief,
From the pantry they steal and eat,
But one thing is for sure,
They keep their broom stick neat.
3rd Place, Indiana Bounsall
THE LAND OF LULLABIES
Every night when I lay in the woods,
And the stars are the only light,
I sing myself this lullaby,
Before I shut my eyes.
Where the clouds are made of pink fairy floss,
And the sea of bubble gum,
Where the bunnies are made of frost snow white,
Is the place I’ll dream of tonight.
Where the lions’ manes are strands of gold,
And the giraffes have candy cane necks,
I’ll ride upon chocolate butterflies,
In the land of lullabies.
Highly Commended, Archer Lorenz-Stockdale
COMMUNITY FAMILY – MARYBOROUGH
In Maryborough, a town so fair,
A culture rich with history and care,
Where the past and present intertwine,
And beauty and charm always combine.
From the wharf where ships once docked,
To the streets where pioneers walked,
A sense of heritage fills the air,
And a love for the town we all share.
The Customs House, a grand old dame,
Stands proud, a reminder of Maryborough’s fame,
And in Queens Park, the rotunda gleams,
A symbol of our community’s dreams.
The Mary River flows with grace,
A natural wonder in this place,
And the stunning Queens Park Botanic Gardens,
Is where nature’s beauty never ends.
The pubs and cafes, bustling with life,
Are where locals gather to socialise,
And the heritage homes, so grand and fine,
Are where history and beauty entwine.
In Maryborough, we work and play,
And our culture shines bright every day,
For in this town, we are one big family,
A community that’s proud and happy.
Highly Commended, Annie Skipp
Spring time, we can dance in the sun
Warm rains, we can have a lot of fun
With the fragrant flowers I make a bouquet
On the green juicy grass we play croquet
Fat fluffy guinea pigs scampering around
Little birds tweeting, what a beautiful sound
Grandma’s house, we light a blazing bonfire
Zipping through the bush on flying fox wire
I’m young and I’m free
I’m running through the trees
I look up! A jewel blue sky above
Spring time, it’s filled with all the love.
Poetry Winners Years 5-6
1st Place, Isla Brown
A LIGHT IN THE NIGHT
The glow was barely visible in the gloomy, dark room.
The house, now my shelter, was cold.
I was terrified.
My parents were dead, killed in the war.
My body was aching, my muscles were sore.
I was by myself – frightened, lonely, hungry and without hope.
Not knowing how and if I would cope.
It was as if the firefly knew,
Like mine, its home was destroyed.
It too was lonely, without hope.
Its brightness shone closer, it carefully flew towards me and brightened the darkness.
We settled together, a girl and a bug.
Without warmth or comfort, we began to feel snug.
We each understood our plight, in that dark and dreadful night,
Hoping tomorrow would be better.
2nd Place, Isaac Chambers
BACK IN THE OLDEN DAYS
Back in the Olden Days
Grass swaying in the windy bays
Then we will go back to the olden days
To see the grass swaying in the bay back in the olden days
I hopped into the machine, oh I say
Hold on my friend today
I end up at my stay
Then I see the grass swaying in the bays
It was in the bay back in the olden days
I walk out in the bay to see the day
I hear someone say stay
I listen and say hey
Then I see a way
To the machine where I stay
I don’t want to leave the olden days
Sometimes I will say
Should I go back to the olden days?
Encouragement Award, Ruben Hoffman
My story is about the land and sea of freshie land.
It’s a mythical place that the water is orange
and the grass and trees are a baby purple
and have baby blue succulents everywhere
and green cows, purple pigs follow along sprouting.
It seems like everything being held by an orange rubber band
Nobody is rude, bad or brass.
The place is very fun and very ambivalent.
And nobody likes to here you have a bomb.
When it’s sun down the trees leaves turn into marshmallows and orange flies covers the meadows
I want to finish this quick but I got to go win so I will let my heart win.
This is a poem.