In This Place
The 2016 Vox Bendigo Fyffe Award this year celebrates the landscape, history and people of Central Victoria.
We invite submissions of essays, poems or stories on the theme, “In This Place: Central Victoria”.
There is no minimum word length but submissions must be no longer than 3000 words.
The winning entry will receive $1000.
There’s a clever plastic trough with a float
hooked up to a tank: this the chickens ignore.
A wide terracotta dish is more to their taste:
they sip up beakfuls and gargle, half-crowing.
But they are happiest when I pour blunt rivers
from an old can into the dirt, as if water
tasted freshest uncaged.
[16 May 2011]
Everyone has a snake story. Bloke next door loathes them, and is very good at killing them when they come too close to the house. He nearly lost an eye one year when he came across a big brown at the entrance to his garage. His killing method is a long-handled spade, but he must have brought the blade down hard on a stone and the spade recoiled fast, hitting him on his face and fracturing his eye-socket. The snake died, but Pete was in and out of hospital for months to repair his face.
We’ve had one in the fishpond chasing water rats. Continue reading
When you program a literary festival, you try to gather as much information as possible about who is reading what, and which books are receiving accolades.
For reasons I don’t quite understand, Australia has Prime Minister’s Literary Awards, as well as state government awards, Continue reading
The 2016 Vox Bendigo Fyffe Prize will this year celebrate the landscape, history and people of Central Victoria.
When entries open, from February 1, we will invite submissions of essays, poems or stories on the theme, In This Place: Central Victoria.
There is no minimum word length but submissions must be no longer than 3000 words. The winning entry will receive $1000.
Shortlisted entries, including the winner, will be published as a book by Bendigo Publishing, and launched at Bendigo Writers Festival, August 12-14, 2016.
There is no entry fee. Continue reading
by Simon Patton
The kangaroo swerves to the right without indication: it needs all the road to itself as it scouts for a break in the fence. We slow: field-mist mutes dawn sun; shiver-grass glints gold-pink. On the point of jumping, the animal bounds diagonally far left with a twitch of momentum. Another shift right, then abruptly it picks up its point of gravity and pogoes over a gate. For a split-second or two the windscreen tingles with
nervous uplifting energy.
[13 April 2011 + 11 October 2015]