Competition

Highly Commended

The Watcher
by Tim Collins
Gumdale, Qld

Southbank, Brisbane
A poignant chaos was welling within me.
Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

Sweat shimmered and slipped
on his brow. This man with
woman-shaped thoughts eyed

the young girl. There was a
wheedling trickle of a note of
despair in her laughing voice

as she noticed him peering.
A breeze struck and swooped
at her fusty hair. He watched

with open clam shell eyes.
Other people with dull looks
like half-asleep dogs never

noticed him leaning at the post.
The afternoon air was fuggy and
the gimcrackery of his smile as

the shadows argued and bustled
in this place of ardent shades.
His avid hands bunched in his

pockets, and those eyes transmitting
eager thoughts of how her flesh was
damp and spongy like a peeled banana.

Highly Commended

The Matchbox Dragon
by Bevan Baker
Yamanto, Qld

Grandpa had an awful habit, he was a smoker, without shame,
Grandpa's was an unhealthy habit, but he loved it all the same.
We loved it too, the special way he lit each cigarette,
As from his pocket he would produce, a secret well-trained pet.
He didn't need a lighter and he wasn't one for braggin'
But Grandpa owned a teeny, tiny, fire-breathing dragon.
It lived inside a matchbox, which he kept inside his pocket,
And seldom did he hug someone, for fear that he would squash it.

When Grandpa pulled a cigarette, we quickly gathered 'round,
Placing it between his lips, we dared not make a sound.
Upon the table he put the box and silence seemed to linger,
Then finally he tapped the lid, with a gentle, yellow finger.
He pushed the tray and up it popped, a small reptilian head,
Followed by a neck and body, scaly, bright and red.
Its arms and legs were thin, just like its tail when uncurled,
But the wings, they were spectacular as slowly they unfurled.

Grandpa clicked his fingers and the little lizard flew,
It circled around his balding head, knowing exactly what to do.
With flapping wings, it hovered, just above his wrinkled lip,
A perfect aim of fiery breath, the cigarette was lit.
Grandpa inhaled, ashes glowed, the little dragon lurched,
It fluttered for a second longer, upon his specs it perched.
It waited, like us all, for Grandpa's rings of smoke,
Then twisting, turning, through each one, its graceful body poked.
The rings they disappeared, while the cigarette still burned,
And to the matchbox the crimson dragon, happily returned.

We all grinned and Grandpa smiled before the questions came,
"Where did you get him? How old is he?" and "Has he got a name?"
Grandpa nodded and fed his pet, a slice of red-hot chilli,
"I found her in the war, I've no idea, I've always called her Milli.”
So now we knew, we'd been mistaken, she was a girl instead,
When suddenly a coughing fit turned Grandpa's face bright red.
Milli's little head craned upwards; she'd seen this scene before,
But now it seemed that it was happening for longer and much more.

When Grandpa closed that matchbox, it was a day he'd not forget,
For Milli ceased to do such tricks or light another cigarette.
She knew that they were causing fits, she knew that they were bad,
So she did not breathe her fiery breath, and she knew that he was mad.
He grumbled and he cursed and groaned, he swore without regret,
But deep inside he knew she cared; his faithful wartime pet.
Unhappy, we were too, for we loved her fire breathing,
But now she stayed within her box, she had no need for leaving.

There came a time, at last, when things turned truly for the good,
It took a while, but I finally think that Grandpa understood.
He gave up the smokes and always claimed he had a lack of wealth,
Though I'm sure he knew, but would not admit, it was purely due to health.
Then we saw magic Milli on every occasion she could make,
Because Grandpa proudly let her out, lighting candles on our cake.
Barbecues were another event, they would attend with glee,
Where he let her help, while he remained contented and smoke free.

My Grandpa lived a long, long life and so often he was braggin',
That he owed it all to his long time friend, that magical matchbox dragon.
The matchbox held another secret and I found its special treasure,
I kept it safe and warm for years, it was more than just a pleasure.
For now I am a Grandpa too, complete with curious batch,
So I can hardly wait for this tiny, dragon's egg to hatch.