Dianne Woods

Man Of The Forest

You are like me

You are my cousin

97 per cent genetically, like me.

You have emotions.

You feel.

Why is my race so unkind to you?

Humans think they are intelligent;

This is debatable.

I know I should not tar

all humans as ignorant

when many know of your plight.

Orang-utans are on the

endangered list.

Sumatran orang-utans are

trés few - only 7000 remaining.

I see photographs of orang-utans;

I so long to hug them

and say, everything will be OK.

Everything is not OK.

Humans are orang-utans’ greatest enemy.

We are condoning the torture

and annihilation of a species

through our apathy, ignorance and greed.

Shame on the human race for

not caring about a cousin!

© Dianne Woods

Sumatran Orang-utan Society

www.orangutans-sos.org

Borneo or orang-utan survival

BOS Australia

www.orangutans.com.au

Humane Society International

1800 333 737 www.hsi.org.au

Stop The Clock

Stop The Clock!

Another month gone by,

Another year a-closin’

Life is racing onward.

Why can’t time be frozen,

Just for a shortish spell,

So everyone can settle down

And listen to Earth’s story

While Earth is still around?

© Vi Woodhouse

Stop The Clock

Stop The Clock!

Another month gone by,

Another year a-closin’

Life is racing onward.

Why can’t time be frozen,

Just for a shortish spell,

So everyone can settle down

And listen to Earth’s story

While Earth is still around?

© Vi Woodhouse

Judy Brumby-Lake

Christmas Cheer

Sprawled on a threadbare carpet in front of a TV set,

a small fragile child is mesmerised by the scene before

her: Her mother, dressed in silk, is descending an endless staircase towards a Christmas tree partially

camouflaged by numerous cloaks of coloured tinsels

and blinking lights that illuminate the heap of parcels

under it. Not far away, a small plump child

is dragging a large doll along the floor.

Through the window outside

can be seen a naked tree as snow gently falls.

At the sound of her mother’s voice,

the fragile child turns her head away

from the flickering of the TV set

and back to her own reality where on Christmas Day

she hears the sounds of buzzing aerobatic flies

over silver cans that have splashed amber fluid onto the

floor and where the aromas of cigarette butts

compete with the fragrance

of eucalyptus trees outside the window.

The fragile child’s mother, dressed in housewife

uniform and a sloppy No-Name tracksuit complemented

by fake fur slippers, walks melancholically towards the

child and mumbles,

“Here’s a parcel from me to you from the Salvos.”

With eyes un-engaging, the fragile child quivers,

“Thanks”, and then turns her head back to the TV set;

back to the world of fantasy,

back to the world that

she hopes will become her reality -

a Christmas Day of glitter and cheers.

© Judy Brumby-Lake

Vera Tregaskis

The Christmas Star

May the star that shone

o’er Bethlehem

so many years ago,

Continue to bring light and hope

To those who want to know,

Of God’s unfailing love to us

In sending down his Son,

To live and work and die for us

That we may be as one.

So let us all this Christmas

Reflect upon these things,

That symbolise the Christmas Star

And all the peace it brings.

©Vera Tregaskis