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.