1st Place The Eyes Have it

Jeanette McInnes

Surgery in a foreign country is never fun. On the other hand, where better to have an operation than in Hippocrates General Hospital, Thessaloníki? Post-operatively,

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I don’t want to go to The Crossing.

Pete Barker

“I don’t want to go to The Crossing.” Rebekah pouted at her father. It was Friday. What used to be called Spring. Time for crops

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Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Ken Cotterill

Sunday, Bloody Sunday Ekaterinburg, Tuesday, July 16, 1918 We waited in the cellar. That hot, stifling cellar. It was the dead of night. How many

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Pull The Plug on Pokies

Jennifer Marsden

PULL THE PLUG ON POKIES In July 2017 Queenslanders set a new record. In that one month more than $215 million was lost by Queenslanders

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The Table

Cheryl Kelly

“What the hell do you think you’re playing at!  SELL IT! OVER MY DEAD BODY! It belongs to me!  I’m the eldest – Mother said

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The Seven Gadflies of Socrates

Phil Dowsett

A Poem TWG Theme: Protest My Title: The Seven Gadflies of Socrates. ___________________________________________________________________________ Webmasters note. For the full experiance of this poem, please follow the

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Cat’s Tale

Pete Barker

Curiosity didn’t kill Cat Ballinger.  A single round from a .357 calibre Smith & Wesson revolver did that. But Cat’s insatiable curiosity did put her

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I want to break free

Mary Serenc

“Craaaack!” Salty burst through his shell. “Hah I’m first out!” he squealed.  The rascally reptile twitched his tail and shook himself free of the mud

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Dora and the Exploring Pig Sheep

Jan Lahney

“Well, what do you think, Sami?” “I love them!” Sami got down onto her hands and knees. She put her head between the twin black

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All Aboard the India Express

Phil Dowsett

To arrive you first must depart. That seems logical? A simple case of cause and effect. But in India where anything can happen, departing and

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Timestill

Des O'Neill

The arrival when time is still, A setting sun as evening swill. Shadows cast from early day, Stranded there on baking clay. Silence gurgle of

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Dorb

Des O'Neill

We don’t see much of Old Herb and his missus; Myrtle. They wander into town from their home, somewhere out in the sticks, for “essential

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