By Voices of Geelong Writers.
When our members’ night was cancelled because of COVID restrictions for the second month in a row, we decided to take our creativity online. We invited writers to compose a poem or micro-story of about 100 words including the words elephant and castle. Some read their work to camera – you can view a compilation of these pieces on our YouTube channel. Some sent us text pieces, which you can read below.
My Castle – Kerstin Lindros
Ready for the garden party, I stroll around the castle grounds in the sun. A man leads a conga line of bejewelled elephants around a big top. I pick daisies and sit down on a bench …
…I inhale deeply, squint at the low orange sun. I stretch my arms, then rub my aching neck as the cockatoos above make a racket. A falling gum twig brushes my cheek. ‘Elephants?’ I chuckle. Kangaroos graze in the paddock. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but gardening can be so tiring. I take my vegetables and go inside. Who needs a castle?
Elephant and Castle – David Bridge
The room was in the Elephant,
And seated in the gloom
Was a mysterious pachyderm,
Whose presence seemed to loom.
It tapped a glass and flapped an ear,
Said, ‘There should be a meeting here.
I’ve heard there is a wondrous prize,
And surely, given my great size
(So big a castle rides my back)
I should be honoured. Though what I lack –
To avoid all doubt, let me be clear –
Is just your company, and a beer.’
Poem XV – Guenter Sahr
Even as I try and try to
Live the saintly life of
Edgar the
Peaceful, shunning the toil of war with
Half a mind
And eschewing the
Need to apportion precisely
The spoils of victory
& yet keeping sad tally of my liegemen
Cut to the quick –
Alas a valiant princeling
Should leave a bereaved widow
To be comforted and
Lain to bed by me at
Eventide.
* Edgar the Peaceful (943-975) was the first king of England after the coming together of the kingdoms of Mercia, Wessex and Northumberland. His coronation at Bath in 973 forms the basis of the current coronation ceremony.
Once he was a Busker – Ena Roach
Bob was a well-liked young shop-keeper. In 2020, ‘Covid’ came, customers left, debts grew. Bob lost his business and his home. Pride stopped him telling his interstate family.
He slept rough with new mates. He busked where no one knew him. Coins tinkled into his guitar-case: not enough to buy a decent feed.
Then, one day, a passer-by gave him a lottery ticket. A miracle! It won enough for Bob to buy a flat, rather cramped but to Bob: his castle.
And eat! He gorged to make up for weeks of hunger till he grew as fat as an elephant.
By Linda Carr
The tick … tock of the grandfather clock was the only sound in the building.
Having shunned the well-worn tour of European palaces and castles taken by her contemporaries, the naïve Australian waited alone for her hosts. The wood-panelled vestibule was cavernous.
Tick … tock.
Thoughts of a jungle Dracula floated up.
The turmoil of the Tamil civil war meant the Youth Hostel was empty but somehow, she had made it, solo, to Kandy. The owners of the converted mansion had taken an interest in their only guest – so ridiculously young and fresh.
Today was her special visit to the elephant bathing down on the river.
By Sumitra
You prefer to build castles in the air, but I, I am not a princess, and I cannot share these dreams. Sometimes you look longingly at me, wishing I would float out the window with you into the fantasy of love everlasting. But I cannot wilfully turn my eyes away from the elephant in the room – we are living a memory. We loved each other, once, but neither of us are those selves anymore. We have outgrown each other, and must find new skins. I hope you can find a different anchor, so you don’t float entirely away.
By Sarah Crawford
My home is my castle. What was once just a large house, is now much grander while in lockdown. Fortified against attack, I am in isolation. To brighten each day, I assign new roles to all in the family, including myself. Some days I am the Queen, another a gatekeeper, and today, I am a child, playing with an elephant in the garden. Our dog plays this role and makes a wonderful elephant although, he needs to work on his sounds. He’s much better at being a lion.
The Foolish King – Colleen McGrath
The elephants have arrived,
at the castle gate, Your Majesty. ‘Leave me you dimwit,
I have no need of elephants today!’
‘But your Majesty…’
‘No buts you feeble fool, Begone with you!’
‘My humble apologies, your Majesty
but only yesterday, you said
you would like to ride the elephants today and elephants never forget’.
‘That was yesterday, you nincompoop!
I have since been upstaged by a wizard fool who has sealed my fate,
In granite stone.
I am now hamstrung
and forced to bide my time awaiting this evil wizards decline
Alas! His final ride was not meant to be!
Dreaming – Thea Adams
Plodding along the jungle path,
A weight upon his back,
An elephant dreams.
The wooden castle on his back
Is filled with visitors,
An insult to his power.
There is a waterhole ahead,
A place of R and R.
An elephant can dream!
Guenter
What’s not to enjoy and savour about this group of ten creative pieces of writing, each one adhering to the requirements. There is Kerstin’s brush with a dream in her garden, David’s comic reflection on our postponed members’ meetings, Ena’s lucky busker, Linda’s perspicacious compact story of the Australian accidental tourist; there is Sumitra’s now saddened reprise of lives growing apart, Sarah’s world created by a child’s imagination, Vicky’s enchanting & bewildering tour of the London tube, Collen’s haughty majesty served his just dessert, and Thea’s proposition that elephants do dream.
Wonderful contributions all.
Now, I am surprised and bewildered to have already received some complaints about “Poem XV” not adhering to the requirements to include the word “elephant” and the word “castle”. Accusations of favouritism have surfaced, the pungent stench of bias has been catapulted across the castle walls (something to do with my connections to the GW committee). In my defence I say: I did! I have met the requirements! It is an acrostic poem and the words are there for all to read. I learnt to write acrostic poetry at a workshop at Geelong West Neighbourhood House … no, wait, wait, wait, that was cross-stitch! I learnt to write acrostic poems with Mr Delmore in Year 8 who used to make the whole class write these poems using all the letters in our first name (oh how I wished my name was Dan or Bob, or John or Bill!). I had Mr Delmore again in Year 11 when he then piqued my interest in medieval history.
Thea Adams
Thank you Geelong Writers for the competition. I was delighted to be considered good enough to have this mention in such company. Thanks again.
Kerstin Lindros
Love the different angles. Very clever.