Following the success of our inaugural World Poetry Day competition in 2024, our residents once again sharpened their pens, and minds, to blow us away with their submissions for 2025.
Our two categories this year were ‘Childhood Memories’ and ‘Prized Possession’, subjects that gave us insight into the memories and possessions our residents hold dear.
With close to 50 submissions, choosing the winners was an incredibly difficult task for our Chief Executive Officer, Christine Gilroy. “I am once again blown away by the talent and creativity of our residents. We would like to thank everyone who submitted entries this year – you all made it an incredibly challenging task to pick a winner!”
To celebrate World Poetry Day, and our competition winners, residents headed to their village centre for a morning tea.
Read on for the winning entries…
Category One: Childhood Memories
First place:
‘Returning Soldier – 1945’ by Juanita, Oak Tree Retirement Village Toowoomba, Baker Street
They never introduced us – I didn’t know your name
I knew not where you came from; no one bothered to explain.
You must be so important – they all made such a fuss!
You were someone very special and you had returned to us.
They didn’t tell me what to say – or where you fitted in.
You’d come back home to be with us – you must be kith & kin.
I’m sure they thought that I would know – en’ though I was so small.
If only someone had explained – I could have given you my all.
But I turned aside, and pushed apart, and let you walk away
We both began to grow apart – alone each passing day
I felt you cared, and so did I, but neither did we show
So shy and too embarrassed to let each other know.
And now I bitterly regret the times we never had –
I never said “I love you” – I never called you “Dad”
Second place:
‘Typhoon Tragedy’ by Rusty, Oak Tree Retirement Village Yeppoon, Barmaryee Road
Early in November, ‘Typhoon Haiyan’ ventured forth.
It careered towards The Philippines — rampaging from the north.
Warnings echoed nationwide; few gave a second glance.
Nature’s fiercest storm swept in; no-one stood a chance.
Sweeping in, sweeping in;
wreaking havoc in its path.
The giant storm came sweeping in—with its tragic aftermath.
That which wasn’t torn apart by fierce destructive wind,
succumbed to unrelenting waves as ocean powered in.
Frail, elderly trapped at home; babes torn from mothers’ arms;
unsuspecting workers dragged from once productive farms.
Dragged away, dragged away,
pulled way out to sea—
bodies tossed and mutilated in mountains of debris.
Grotesque trees stripped naked; like skeletons cradling dead.
Relatives deemed ‘lucky’ as closure tears are shed.
Thousands more are not yet found— claimed by the sea forever.
Families keep on searching—scant rewards for their endeavour.
Searching here, searching there,
a daunting situation;
the depth of this disaster dawns right across our nation.
Mesmerised by TV news; confronting death before my eyes;
Such devastation’s so complete; despair has no disguise.
Blank stares caught on camera, a bewildered population—
hesitant and traumatised — no survivor jubilation.
Pleading now, pleading now
with simmering agitation —
tentative enquiries; they plead for information.
“Where’s my child… my mother… Gran? Have you seen my friends?”
Gaunt faces masked, expressionless, stare back into the lens,
as the lack of food and water and other deprivations
fill our screens, and generate mounting cash donations.
“Help them! Help them! Help them please!
Show them that we care.
We must do all that’s needed to banish their despair.”
In the shopping mall this morning The Red Cross makes collection.
We, the public, fill their tins; and seek a human connection.
One shopper, face averted, avoids the worker’s gaze.
Her trolley’s laden high with food to last her many days.
She ignores the tins, ignores the tins.
It could be us one day!
Our town’s perched at the ocean’s edge.
It could be us one day!
Close by me in the shopping mall I spy the shopper’s boy
studying computer games, trying out the latest toy.
He’s wearing those three-quarter pants, deep pockets on the side.
He peers at anguished faces of children who have died.
Delving deep, delving deep,
delving deep; he sighs.
He pulls out all his money;
puts it in the tin and… cries.
Category Two: Prized Possession
First place:
‘The Oak Tree’ by Jane, Oak Tree Retirement Village Broadmeadow
Oh noble oak, revered in myth and rhyme,
Your timber furnished mighty ships of yore,
Gave rise to many songs and names to pubs,
And refuge to a king pursued in war.
Your leaves and fruit are found on coats of arms,
And oak gall, formed by eggs of nesting wasps,
Supplied the ink for Magna Carta’s draft,
Recorded too, the words of Shakespeare’s craft.
For those espoused a wondrous eighty years –
Displaying strength, deep roots, longevity-
Nor gold, nor precious stone the rightful gift,
But something made of oak, most royal tree.
And we, residing in this tree of fame,
Are surely “acorns,” worthy of the name!
Second place:
‘All Mine’ by Cari, Oak Tree Retirement Village Goodna
My `Prized Possession’ is my mind,
It tells me to be very kind,
Right from wrong, it lets me know
When to drive fast or when to slow.
It stores my memories from the past,
A `filing cabinet’ so thick and vast.
Knowledge of long ago,
Filed away – one day to show.
Some things nice and some things bad,
Some experiences I wish I never had.
To think ahead and not look back.
My `Prized Possession’ scammers will never hack.
My mind is mine and will always be.
My `Prized Possession’ mine for me to be free.
