At Murdoch University, our English and Creative Writing sector open doors to the enchanting realms of literature. We invite students into a world of creativity, imagination, and critical thinking. Picture yourself delving into captivating texts from various historical eras and cultures, igniting your passion for storytelling. Our students are not just readers but creators, crafting their narratives across diverse genres, voices, and styles.

Imagine exploring the uncharted territories of conventional and experimental writing, where creativity knows no bounds. At Murdoch, we encourage students to riff on established norms and play innovatively with form and content. This isn’t just an education; it’s an adventure in self-expression and imagination.


EGL207 – AUSTRALIAN POETRY: STORYTELLING AND THE CREATIVE SPACE

This unit examines the role that poetry and storytelling play in the intervention into, and the construction of, Australian cultures. The unit aims to develop students’ awareness of, and participation in, Australian poetry. Students will gain a broad overview of the history of Australian poetry and develop skills in critical and creative thinking and practice, become familiar with terms and concepts used to describe and analyse poetry, learn how to craft their own poems and develop their own poetic voice.

SOPHIE WEATHERHEAD

ECO-SONNET: WONDERMENT, CURIOSITY, AND FEAR 

Wonderment, curiosity, and fear, 

Spot innocent eyes, discover surprise! 

Marri tree baubles dangle in the clear, 

Flaky bark, bleeding sap, red-gum eyes. 

Waxy green blades append to arteries— 

Of menthol, pine, and citrus aromas, 

Cockatoo crackles dwell in gumnut trees, 

Watch possum eyes smile at Kookaburras! 

Eucalyptus trees love Australians— 

Eco-eyes alert endangered species; 

Drought, fire, ‘n’ flood frightens utopians: 

Koalas, honey-bees, bilby bunnies. 

Snuggle’ n’ cuddle and join hand in hand, 

Nurture cultures in a vast, arid land. 

Ecocentric posture; a revival, 

Celebrate innate eco-consciousness, 

Hearts ‘n’ minds, song ‘n’ dance, survival, 

A new generational awareness! 

Resilient ‘n’ grand like the Marri tree, 

An ecosystem thriving and Happy.


ALICE FLETCHER

PERTH / MARGARET RIVER

Eventually, I will live more years away from home 

Than I ever spent there 

And I must and 

have 

learned 

To love this place.  

Swamp banksias  

Snottygobbles 

And 

One-sided bottlebrush 

Living in the cracks of baking bitumen 

And to leave the karris 

Grasstrees 

And spider orchids 

Where they are

MY MOTHER’S GARDEN

In my mother’s garden are fresh green succulents 

Firm and juicy, 

Plump and bursting with water. 

Shiny emerald, dusty sage and darkly olive 

Thrusting proudly out of black pots. 

In my mother’s garden no bird sits in the plane tree 

Or dines upon the succulents. 

Possums are not welcomed. 

Orb weavers, quendas and owls have gone away. 

All we have are the ants 

creeping in. 


JASPER PRESTAGE

JACK MALLEE’S ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF COUNTRY 

(Thank you. Puts down banjo. The Piezo pickup feeds back) 

Before we continue, 
I would like to acknowledge  
on whose land we are meeting today, 
the land of the Elder Alcoa Executives 
I pay my ta..reverence to their  
CEOs past, present and emerging 

For a quarter of a century  
the Alcoa mob have tended 
the beautiful pools of sulfuric acid 
which lie around their minesites  
and have tended the bushland and wetlands 
ensuring the eradication of pests like the Bilby 
and the Quenda  
ensuring the bush should never grow too thick 
to drive a caterpillar truck through 

I pay respects, also, to their spin doctors 
and advertising men  
they are the original storytellers on this country

WITHOUT TRUCKS, AUSTRALIA STOPS: THE TRUCKIE’S JOURNEY THROUGH CLIMATE CATASTROPHE

I’ve seen the Roadtrains Jackknife  
where the seasons swell and change  
and I’ve thundered where the drover Cracked  
his greenhide whip, and let the cattle range  
I’ve seen where his lonely wife 
huddled with her basket and her stick  
made quick work of by the bushfires 
burnt down to smoking bricks 

I’ve driven Kosciuszko’s side  
like Banjo sang about  
where the brumbies crush the wombat holes 
and churn up Woody Guthrie’s clouds  
from the earth so loose and sandy 
since the squatter felled the trees 
where the salt rides high like Clancy 
on the Snowy River breeze  

It’s true that I’ve seen forests 
which predate most continents 
emptied of their ancient trees 
to fill my consignment  
And I’ve seen the Quenda and the Bilby  
empty from the floor 
where the sunlight burst like lightning  
where the bush fell to the saw 
 
I’ve taken out an overdraft, 
Might make the angels weep 
And I’m following the walking track 
where the Drover ranged his sheep, 
where I’ve got a hundred head of Beebos 
who’ve grown too old to sheer  
they’d be money in the bank now, 
if I wasn’t stuck in second gear! 

I’ve hauled asbestos out from Wittenoom 
and bore all night down to Perth  
where it sheeted from beneath the tarp 
like snow falling back to earth 
that load built three hundred thousand houses 
and at least two million cars  
and I blew all the money made, 
drunk in dockside bars 

I’ll keep driving through the wind and rain, friend 
or where the bitumen burns hot 
a life of dogs and dust and diesel,  
is this lonesome Truckie’s lot 
I’ve a big old load to pull now mate, 
right across those mountain tops 
and remember when we share the road  
without trucks, Australia stops 

Yep Mate, 
without trucks, Australia stops


EGL249 – THE SHORT STORY: APPROACHES TO WRITING AND READING

This unit will develop students’ approaches to writing and reading short fiction, ranging from shorter texts under 1000 words (sometimes called ‘flash fiction’) to longer short stories from an international range of writers. Students will develop key concepts and techniques relevant to writing and reading short fiction. They will develop their understanding of ideas about creativity, content, structure, imagery, characterisation, dialogue, point-of-view, voice, revision and editing.


SHANE KEEFE

FATHER’S DAY LUNCH IN DAD’S DOOMSDAY BUNKER

EARTH – EARLY LUNCHTIME: 

“All set Pops?” 
Henry was hopeful the answer was yes. See, his arms were gettin’ tired and his tummy had been growlin’ for turkey ever since Pops told him ‘roast’. 

“Nearly there, Champ” came a voice from within the oven. 

Henry looked, hard, at the speckled-up, black bug-bits in the long light-cover. He felt a bit sad for ‘em. Don’t get him wrong – Henry was awful thankful to have such a smart Pops – and one that made him roast turkey, even though the world was ending. But still – he thought about all the dead bugs and their dead Pops’; all speckled-up and dead; and he felt sad.  
He couldn’t really help it. 

“Hensy, bud”, from the oven; “That torch dropping again?”. 

“-Sorry.”  

Henry raised the beam, high, to where Pops was screwin’ in the screws.  
He fixed it on a hairy, pink hand. The hand gave him a thumbs-up. 

“Sorry, Pops.” 

… “Bit hard to roast a turkey in the dark Hensy.” 

“I know.” 

They were both quiet for a while. Henry locked his hand in place this time, before letting his eyes wander. They wandered up the bunker stairs, to the round window in the door at the top. He saw the blue, blue sky, and a healthy, woolly cloud. In front flew a flock of swans, and then a Solar-Powered Public Hover Shuttle. Behind those, in space, the Orbiting Minor United Space Colony sparkled past. Henry almost cried. Pops reckons they’d all be “dead, ‘come Christmas”. 

 
The oven spluttered to life.  

“There we bloody go Hensy!” 

Henry yanked his eyes off the round window and quickly told them to dry.  
Pops jumped down from the ladder, covered in soot, and smiling. Henry’s tummy gurgled. The ovens orange glow got brighter and brighter. ‘Made Pops look like an angel.  

“Right, time to pluck that turkey, bud.” 

EARTH – VERY LATE LUNCHTIME: 

Henry looked down, with a frown, at the pea pile on his plate. The turkey was burnt. He listened to Pops scrapin’ up the mashed potatoes with his fork. He heard the long-light ringing slightly and some muffled talking from outside. He heard Pops’s communication radio-setup chattering in the background:  

“D’you hear this Liam? Apparently, today marks the 40th anniversary of the Earth Peace Declaration, formed by the United Earth Democratic Parliamentary Republic.”  

“And what a prosperous 40 years it’s been Stevo! I can’t imagine what it was like for our parents to deal with things like Homelessness, Discrimination and Climate change…” 

“They had those only forty years ago?” 

“Looks like it… I would’ve thought they died off with the dinosaurs!” 

Liam and Stevo’s laughter echoed around the bunkers dining cell. Henry sighed.  

Pops finished licking his plate.  
“They won’t be laughing ‘come Christmas.”  

Henry felt himself gettin’ sad again. He thought of all them poor souls outside. 

He was pretty sure that, this Christmas, Pops would be right.