ANZAC Day
Poetry Contest
This year, the School held a contest for writing for students to write a poem about ANZAC Day. Students from Prep to Year 12 got involved to write their best poems, with Cameron Semmens assisting in the judging. The winning poems were presented at the ANZAC Day Service. Here we have featured the winning poems from the competition.
What ANZAC Means to Me
By Mia B (with help from family) - Junior School Winner
Anzac Day means to me
They fought for us to keep us free,
Poppy flowers remind us that they died,
But other countries take over us they tried.
My Great Grandpa fought in the war,
His Spitfire plane took photos
of the enemy he saw,
His plane was shot down early one day
He knew he had only one chance to get away.
His parachute deployed OK,
But on the ground it was hard to say,
He tried to ride away by horse,
But soon was taken away by force.
For many years he was forced to stay,
Until the war ended one day
His family couldn’t wait to greet him
As it had been many years since they’d seen him.
Red Grew The Poppies
By Mary B - Middle School Winner
Red grew the poppies,
seeped with bravest blood,
Great were the men, greater was their love,
Trodden in the trenches, a new foreign land,
Fighting for a nation, sought by sea and sand,
100 years of union, of passion, of strife.
The dawn of lingering memory,
of countless lives,
Red grew the poppies,
spirit brighter than a flame,
A nation born in adoration from
death upon the plains.
100 years of tears wept,
of death on distant shores.
Of hearts unfolded, bloodshed,
Love attained through war,
Love so freely given, to future hearts unknown,
A seed of everlasting love,
amidst that war was sewn,
A simple donkey carried the fallen,
not a lion nor a horse,
A humble donkey, no proud creature yet a symbol of remorse.
Their spirits pray never flee our memories
As the new sun greets the sky,
To the gentle whisper of the moon,
beckoning on high
As a nation joins in silent prayer,
somewhere faraway,
On the shores of Gallipoli, the red poppies sway.
100 Years Since Gallipoli
By Joseph B - Senior School Winner
The ground left littered with craters,
Empty bullet shells filling up a family’s grave,
Tears turning to rain,
The parched ground nourished
by our brothers’ blood,
A hundred years have passed,
We still mourn, yet we will not forget,
The ground is still red, yet not with blood,
But with something of beauty-
A memory in the form of a flower,
A sign of new life, and new beginnings.