Just over 30 years ago Julie Meddows, at the time a valley resident, compiled and edited a booklet titled ‘Children of the Valley, a collection of poems’. The booklet was published by the Kangaroo Valley P&C Association in 1993, and the present P&C has given me permission to feature the poems in the Voice.
As I was in the valley at the time, and lived next door to the KV School which my three children attended, I knew most of the children featured. Of course, they are now mothers and fathers of their own children, and some no longer live in the valley.
Since there are many poems in the booklet, I thought it appropriate to have published in the Voice, perhaps a couple in each issue, which will take several months of submission. The foreword to the booklet just about sums up the wonderful minds and lives of children aged from 5 to 12 in their own world, so I have reproduced the following from the book.
“When our children pick up a pen to draw, or a brush to paint, we witness art in its purest form. That splatted dandelion is an orchid, the stick person is someone dearly loved, the spiked blob, a brilliant moon. When children write poetry they paint pictures with words, brushing in that same raw honesty. As we grow older these primitive pictures fade and poetry loses its colour, its essential truth, and more often its simplicity.
The poetry of our children’s world is irreplaceable.
In this collection of poems by the children of Kangaroo Valley, the child in you will live again, refreshed by the beauty, tragedy, and humour of a child’s world, painted in words.
It is also a tribute to our teachers at Kangaroo Valley Public School and the parents who encourage and inspire our children to write poetry.
We hope you enjoy the collection of poems.”
Sadly, Julie Meddows passed away a couple of years ago.
Bruce Preston
Friends
By Sommer Rebbeck (12)
When we were young
We did everything together
We went bike riding and running or swimming
Friends forever
She’d come over
And we’d play princesses
Dress up in my dress-ups
And have a great time
When we were older
We’d sit and read
In the great big tree
Or near the pond with the reeds
When we were teenagers
We would go out to the movies
And eat pizzas
With anchovies
We would have sleepovers
And stay up all night
We’d go out with boys
And sometimes have fights
But the day that she died I wasn’t ready
To say goodbye
To my wonderful friend
I remember those days
The best days of my life
I wish they didn’t end
Those wonderful days
Just me and my friend.
Aboriginal Dream
By David Nelson (11)
As she lies there
she dreams about her days with the tribe
of the days when everyone-everything
was in harmony-peaceful
and all men was equal
she dreams about the mother land
what would she think?
She remembers the corroboree and the dreamtime
Of which happened long ago
Now she is walking
She sees all the people
All the buildings and roads
She wonders if it will ever be the same again.
