Education Queensland Award
Music for the Soul
by Giselle Pickering
Eatons Hill State School, Eatons Hill, Qld
‘They’ tell us what to wear,
How to walk and talk
What’s ‘in’ and what’s ‘out’,
What to listen to.
Radio stations play ‘in’ music,
The pop songs of now
Miley Cyrus, Rihanna,
Lady Ga Ga and Alicia Keys.
MGMT and Empire of the Sun,
Copies of each other,
Jay Z and Will-I-Am,
Rap has taken over.
Taylor Swift and love songs,
Techno songs and rude songs,
Common songs, boring songs.
‘They’ only care about words,
Voices and special effects.
How pretty the singer is,
Or how absurd the video clip looks.
People are oblivious to tune,
The pitch and effort,
How hard the backstage crew work,
How long it took to compose the lyrics of their favourite song.
But I do.
I hear children in Africa,
Drumming and calling for the rain they need to survive.
I hear the blend of the man’s depressed voice and the melancholy sound of a saxophone,
Mingling together in a jazzy, blues tune.
I hear the sound of a high-school band, jamming together,
Drifting through my open window from an abandoned building.
I hear the children in the Cluster Music Camp,
Nervous at the thought of performing three days excruciatingly hard work to their parents.
I hear a harmonic symphony,
Unknown to anyone except the devoted listeners of the ABC classical music channel.
I hear the tuneful tooting of a trumpet,
Signifying new beginnings and birth.
There are many types of music,
It’s just about how you hear it.
Whether it is from your heart or head, whether the words are true or false,
It is about how and what you hear!
By the way, do you know?
I HEAR MUSIC!
by Jessica Riga
Kelvin Grove State College, Kelvin Grove, Qld
The rushing of taxis fills the grey streets with colour.
People walk in all directions, gossiping on cell phones.
Even though the streets are a clutter I feel
A slight emptiness
Constant flashes of light tell me I’m not alone.
The Broadway Billboards pull the strings on my curiosity.
I sit on the cold steps of the underground subway.
The sun starts to set…paints the sky orange and pink, whispers its goodbyes
to this city that never sleeps.
Busy, Busy City
by Chloe Patch
Clickity, clack Click clack, clickity clack goes the train as it slowly rolls out off the station.
Whoosh! The train bursts from the tunnel.
The gentle swaying to and fro makes me sleepy.
Blue uniform police men demanding tickets please tickets please.
The drizzling rain pit pats on the carriage windows making a soothing sound.
The big, long train purrs along like a big orange cat.
We rushed over sad looking rivers and gloomy waters.
The gentle breeze ripples the still waters.
The silver streak of lightning comes flying into the station and gives of steam, slowing to a halt.
The tall dull and gloomy stairs tower over me.
They make me feel small and exhausted.
We climb up, up, up, the stairs.
Relief washes over me when we walk into the elevator.
Down, down, down we go in the elevator.
Escalator - big, powerful waterfall falling, falling, falling
Until it reaches the ground, carrying people down, down, down.
The underground tunnels and underground stations confuse me.
Busy, buses and cars toot each other in their hurry to get going.
All the ladies high heels go click, click, click along the path making me irritated.
Busy, bustling, people walk swiftly and silently along the pavement.
I dislike loud, noisy, busy, busy cities.