Bridget Archer (Bass, Liberal Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

Though only in year 9, Riverside High School student Erin Coull has been perfecting the craft of poetry for a number of years. 'After first attempting to write a novel, I lowered my sites but not my ambitions and I'm currently developing my craft. I enjoy experimenting with new styles, themes and genres,' Erin says. 'Poetry is a way for me to express and develop my opinions, emotions and ideas in a clear yet challenging way. I enjoy writing about current events, history, mythology, nature and duality, yet I'm still figuring out how to write about myself.'

After joining Write Here Launceston, Erin was fortunate to meet and be mentored by established and renowned poets Yvonne Gluyas and Joy Elizabeth, and Erin has been offered a place at the 2022 Tasmanian Poetry Festival. The following poem, 'The Year the Sirens Sang', is an original poem and is a reflection on the year 2020. It was short-listed for the Liffey Youth Poetry Prize as part of the Ten Days on the Island festival in 2020, and it's my honour to read it here today.

When the keeper rises to meet the new year

The dawn is yet to break

But the waves—they never stopped

They lurk around the island,

Around the hulls of boats,

Hide swathes of snares—

Spears of stone, ridges of reef

And then, as icy wind picks up,

Those waves rise to meet the blooming clouds,

Hurtling through the driving sleet

And so the Keeper rises

His duty is to seaborne souls, caught in this storm

His duty is to guide us, day in and day out

To sound horn in fog and

Shine light by night

He shepherds us toward the shore,

Steers us to the truth in this tumult of terror

Those red stripes on white,

That sweeping beam of light

That is what we turn to

As the storm begins to rage

But as thunder begins to roar,

There come yawns from scarlet lips,

A flex of glinting talons

Then a preening of feathers and voice

And a woman's shriek from feathered breast

This is the year they woke and took to the skies

This is the year they drew breath as one

This is the year of lie after lie,

Laced with melodic malice

This is the year the sirens sang

At the sound of the choir, the sailors turn, bemused,

For suddenly the thunder sounds like a foghorn

And the lightning looks like lantern shine

In the year the sirens sang

Whilst some shut out the silky screams

Some abandon the wheel, blind with panic

Some fear the truth or ignore it all

And then there are those who revel in the dark

Black wings bloom from their backs and they take to the skies,

Up above the wrecks of both rowboats and cruise ships

And the storm, in approval, thunders and pours

In the year the sirens sang