The prestigious Dorothea Mackellar Poetry Competition has been running for forty years, and this year, the organisers received over seven thousand entries from across Australia, with twenty-four entries coming from 成人伦理 Regional College. The theme for 2024 was 鈥楲isten, I have an idea!鈥�听

So, how do you craft a successful poem? There is no set formula when it comes to writing poetry. The word poetry comes from the Latin poeta, loosely meaning 鈥減attern鈥�. However, the patterns in poetry are highly flexible. Though there are many forms, strong traditions and high expectations, there are no universal 鈥渞ules鈥�. In poetry, the poet鈥檚 personal insight, words, images, themes and connotations are just as important as the patterns generated.听

Year 9 student Sanuli Karunaratne was awarded 1st place in the Junior Secondary Section of the 2024 Dorothea Mackellar Poetry competition. Her poem, cleverly titled 鈥業 have an idea鈥� had a 鈥渦nique viewpoint with descriptive language and clever use of the suggested theme in the last line鈥� according to the competition鈥檚 secondary judge, Karen Comer.听

William Blake鈥檚 words, 鈥淣o bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings鈥� perfectly encapsulates Sanuli鈥檚 unique and powerful writing style. Her poetry is evocative, emotional and transcendent.听

For her outstanding efforts, Sanuli received a beautiful trophy, an Anne Knight limited print, $500 prize money and a $100 Dymocks gift voucher. Congratulations Sanuli. This is an incredible achievement!听

Mrs Nicki Rogers听

English Teacher, Extended Learning Key Teacher听

鈥業 have an idea鈥� by Sanuli Karunaratne听

i shiver in between the margins of my page, split听

into red rule and blue lines. they have grown stale,听

yellowed, the edges curling into itself from the forceful听

hold of time, but it is shelter enough for me for these听

few moments, for the first few seconds of my birth.听

eventually, when She beckons me forward, and听

i leave my stationery shell of comfort, tendrils听

of warmth releasing their grasp on my skin, i feel听

unbearably real. i can feel the imperfect pounding of听

my heart in the bone of my head, can almost taste the听

iron of the ink trickling inside my veins. my flesh听

feels scrubbed open, pink and red with vigour. the听

price of life is death, after all.听

yet She looks at me with trained disdain, the menacing听

hold of Her pen angled at me accusingly. What have听

you got to show for yourself? What makes you different,听

unique- what about you changes something in me?听

and i look up at her, tremblingly bare, the frost of听

judgment icing over my skin. She is my creator,听

my being, my life. She is my god, for she has my听

life dripping out of the piercing point of her pen.听

She clicks her tongue, my eyes, my body, every听

disfigured inch catalogued with the omnipotence of听

her mind. You are not good enough, She says.听

You taste of the sweetness of dewdrops. But you are听

not enough to make my tongue throb, to be the听

sinful drops of ambrosia that I desire. There is听

not enough in you for me to call home.听

You do not have enough of me in you to be perfect.听

and that is rejection, packaged into a polite parcel,听

exchanged coolly like business details. but for me,听

with Her, this is akin to the disowning of a child by听

its mother. to me, this makes the pounding of my heart听

come to an insignificant halt and makes the ink of my听

blood freeze into cloudy red crystals inside me. my skin听

turns pearly white, the suffocating colour of death,听

my paper cradle is crumpled in the infinite fist of Her听

hand, and i leave, becoming past tense.听

鈥︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌�…听

my only revenge is that with me, i take a thin slice of听

her, a tiny shard of the mirror of her soul.听

鈥︹�︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌︹赌�…听

She sighs, in my aftermath. a graveyard of crumpled听

paper lies around her, a field of my slaughtered siblings听

leaking ink onto her floor.听

Again, She says, taking Her pen, brandishing it听

dangerously over another blank sheet of paper, but then听

She hesitates. for a moment, there is nothing but the听

echo of silence, and the musk of inspiration.听

Oh, She says. I have another idea.听

听

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