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A collection of Short Stories and Poetry contributions from the Caboolture Writers’ Link Members.
http://hn James Donovan was born in Pittsworth on October 13 1883 and died on 17th of August 1960 In 1916, John James Donovan, also known as Jack Donovan, felt he should leave the stability of his life and fight for his country. Jack was a grazier and a...read more
Bottle ‘o Rum “Fairfield” was every boy’s dream. “Fairfield” was my grandparents’ dairy farm at Bald Hills, Queensland, Australia. Although only 20 km by railway from Brisbane, in the late 1940s early 1950s, Bald Hills was an isolated...read more
The Toy Soldier By Russell Perry It’s difficult to say exactly when I started to remember my other family. However, I do recall that I was four years old when I told my mother about them for the first time. As adults, we remember snippets of our life as...read more
A Morning Talk Poor George. He loved sitting out here like this, soaking up the warmth. It was always great – old George and me, side by side. A couple of old fogies together, just sitting here. And enjoying. At times, he’d turn and look at me - as if to...read more
Free Verse Poetry
Life’s Twilight – by Russell Perry How quickly it comes … life’s twilight. Youth has waned, it seems in just a blink. Whilst youth is yours you think not of twilight. Life is endless. “Old” is far away. Not your concern. Now questions stalk...read more
SUMMER Summer will soon be here Summer can be harsh,rough,burning and sticky With steamy days and nights Summer storms lash the coast with the sharp crack of lightning Bush fires destroy homes and blacken the earth But summer can bring contentment The...read more
Introducing Me a little wordplay by emma Hello. I’m me. I call myself em - to let you see me, see who is em – me - from not only one point of view. It is not for me to tell you who I am, who is em or me, but simply speak and be and let you see me, or...read more
A Tourist Snapshot Twin peaks. But one lay flat in Reflection Lake - a gleaming image of Rainier, inverted at our feet; a snow cone wrapped in a deep blue skirt, with fir trees crowding black around; a scene to breathe in, to draw up from the water; to...read more
The Writer by Russell Perry When a story ends, a new one must begin; for writing is as drawing breath. A blank page brings promise of adventure, eagerly awaiting my words, my imagination, and so it begins. The adventure has been imagined, the...read more