© 2019 Reconciliation SA. Roach´s family were moved from the countryside to live on a mission. She turned, and walked away.‘As I stood by her bedside, those last few moments, I lived my childhood again…’ A song lingered in the midst of a busy atmosphere. Colours of her world melted as her mind filled with images of giant snakes forming mountains, figures dancing and spirits watching over the land; a world that was otherwise completely imaginary to her white, five year old mind. A friend, images of a fictional world, the sound of spinning rubber and wailing in the distance; these experiences began to fill my now educated mind. We receive an overwhelming positive feedback each year from the teachers, parents and students who have involvement in these competitions and publications, and we will continue to strive to attain this level of excellence with each competition we hold. 'Stolen generation search for a home', The Australian 3/10/1994  'New service aims to link families', Koori Mail 452 p.33  'Tell your story', Koori Mail 400 p.21 So we plucked them from their mothers' arms and farmed them off to christian homes, and fearsome christian institutions. This poem has not been translated into any other language yet. Many people from the Stolen Generations have written accounts in a variety of literary forms of their experiences of survival and the impact such policies had and still have on Aboriginal people. The sun ventured over the terrain and drifted slowly towards the edge of the earth. It's made me who I am. Stolen Generation: I am the child of a stolen child. Send to Friend. The things we learn! Grazed knees in her naivety, stood, emotionless among the wailing. Power corrupts, in some cases destroys, the ethical mindset. Write4Fun.net was established in 1997, and since then we have successfully completed numerous short story and poetry competitions and publications. Share via Email Report Story Hello! Later, white blonde hair whipped across her pink cheeks as small feet carried grazed knees across warm sand. Negating sixty thousand years of nurturing with the stroke of a pen, our benevolence … Canada has its own version of the Stolen Generations. We are talking of the present, of the ways in which the legacy of the past lives on for … © Poems are the property of their respective owners. Red dust lingered as bare feet thumped across the parched earth after a leather footy. This BlackWords trail presents autobiographies, biographies, novels, children's stories, anthologies, poems and songs, oral histories, … Stolen Generation Jamie-Lee Hannigan, Grade 12, Booleroo Centre District School Short Story 2009 ‘As I stood by her bedside, those last few moments, I lived my childhood again…’ A song crackled through the dry air, echoing down a vacant hallway. ... A song, a poster, a poem, a rap, a drawing, a cartoon.....something else that displays your feelings about what you have learned today about the stolen generations. ‘As I stood by her bedside, those last few moments, I lived my childhood again…’ A song crackled through the dry air, echoing down a vacant hallway. "The Stolen Generation" by David Keig Literal language Language features included in this poem: Metaphors - lines 9, 13, 21, 22, 23 and 24 Slang (language choice) - 5 and 27 Rhyme - lines 2, 4, 6 and 8 Rhetorical questions - line 25 Consonance - lines 18 and 20 Literal Language - By decree we stole their birthright.Little heathens in our christian eyes.We had to make them white, from the inside.So we plucked them from their mothers' armsand farmed them off to christian homes, and fearsome christian institutions.Negating sixty thousand years of nurturingwith the stroke of a pen, our benevolenceprofoundly misplaced, we dressed the girlslike mammy dolls, the boys in sailor suits.We taught them of a Jesus Christ, andwondered why they couldn't understand.Forgive us our trespassesand our christian pride. Writing has been a means of healing the scars of removal (Heiss 2015). Oh My God, now this is all new to me! Alone, she sat under a rusted verandah baring grazed knees, dirty fingernails and … Regards, Theo. Little heathens in our christian eyes. We-were-wrong! Marvellous, absolutly marvellous.......keep it up :), I had always hoped that I would live long enough to see the end of racism and divisions of class...but not to be...maybe even if I lived forever...there's something about some of the human species that can't tolerate difference especially when the intolerant may perhaps be the lesser....Coach, I know this one by part and yet it still touches the way it did the first time I read it. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people are warned that this website may contain images and voices of deceased persons. Autoplay next video. ‘Psssst!’The voices dissolved. Before long she found herself wondering aimlessly behind a pack of voices, kicking the red dust beneath her feet. A door slammed violently. School walls were no barrier to her imagination, as vibrant reflections of her thoughts formed on the surface of the page. Grazed knees observed a struggle. Thank you for this Jerry! In the centre of this swarming universe, stood pale wrinkled skin, manicured fingernails and neat white hair, waiting intently. What are the 'Stolen Generations'?