Cold for the Bairn

They say it was awful cold for the bairn, That she had none to sing her to slumber, That she scurried behind rocks, cairn to cairn, And, if she’d tire, she’d slow and lumber. They say she lived in eternal shiver, That December had her crawled underground, That, one dusk, a tawny saw her quiver, That it peered in, and matched her saddest sound. They say it’s black eyes grew glum and sodden, That it led her up from her algid lair, Down a trail on which no foot had trodden, To a thatched croft with a fireside to share. They say she grew little and stayed a waif, And that, by her tawny owl, she sleeps safe.

5 Things I Learnt at the Newcastle Young Writers Festival

Last weekend, I flew over east for the Newcastle Young Writers Festival, a four-day event for writers, editors, and others in writing-related industries under 35. At the festival, I met young creatives, attended panels and readings, got to the third round of a spelling bee, went to a 90s themed ball, bought a bunch of zines, and generally basked in the surprising warmth of Newcastle. Here are the best pieces of wisdom I gleaned from my time there: 1. BE ON TWITTER Almost nobody I know in Perth is on Twitter, but apparently this is not normal and we are living in a little tweet-free, uncultured bubble over here. My friend who moved from Perth to Melbourne to work as a writer tells me that she

We acknowledge the past, present and emerging traditional owners of the land on which we live and work, the Wadjuk people of the Noongar nation and acknowledge that sovereignty was never ceded.

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© 2020 by Curtin Writers Club