Woollahra Municipal Council 2026 Mayoral Anzac Day Writing
Two Year 7 boys wrote poems for the Woollahra Municipal Council’s 2026 Mayoral Anzac Day Writing Competition. Their sensitive words made such an impression that Oliver Funge won the overall competition and Mason Helliar was highly commended. Reflect on Anzac Day and the sacrifice made by those who have defended our nation by reading their gently insightful poems.
My Poppy
On Anzac Day
I think about my Poppy,
the youngest of six boys.
Growing up in dusty Queensland,
with lots of brothers, making noise.
His mother died when he was a teen,
and everything got hard and strange.
Most of his brothers joined the forces,
and Poppy also wanted change.
So at seventeen he joined the Navy,
looking for routine, a place to belong.
He swapped wide paddocks for steel walls,
engines humming their heavy song.
He’d never been anywhere else before,
not on a plane, or a single trip.
Then in a blink he was packing bags,
seeing the world from a giant ship.
But war isn’t like the stories say,
it’s loud when sirens blare.
He was stuck deep in the boiler room,
listening to bombs strike through the air.
Months at sea with no way out,
just metal, heat, and fear.
Then came the day his ship was bombed,
the sounds still ring in his ears.
Some friends didn’t make it home,
the ship was torn and so was he.
When you think you’re going to die,
something snaps, and there’s things you can’t unsee.
He was different after the Vietnam War,
at the time the difference had no name.
Now they call it PTSD,
back then it was just “He’s not the same.”
He keeps most things to himself these days,
watching war movies alone in his chair.
Sometimes I sit beside him quietly,
just so that he knows I’m there.
He still wears his old boiler suit,
I think it makes him feel safe, somehow.
He doesn’t march on Anzac Day.
Remembering is just too heavy now.
His scars don’t show on the outside,
but you can still see them in the way he tires.
Still, we’re proud of him and his brothers,
their sacrifice everyone admires.
Alas, even if Poppy remembers privately,
we stand for him on Anzac Day.
Honouring what he gave up as a young man,
and the price he still pays today.
On ANZAC Day we wake up early,
The sky is quiet and kinda pearly.
We stand real still and don’t say much,
Thinking of soldiers brave and tough.
They fought in places far away,
So we could live and laugh today.
With muddy boots and hearts so strong,
They kept on going all day long.
Later on the sirens play,
And NRL kicks off the day .
The crowd is loud but still shows care,
You can feel respect in the air.
The players line up nice and straight,
Before the game they stop and wait.
The Last Post plays, the crowd goes quiet,
Even the toughest blokes stay silent.
Then boom the whistle, game begins,
Big hits, fast runs and cheeky grins.
They tackle hard and never quit,
Like soldiers showing lots of grit.
The crowd yells loud “Go run go fast!”
The ball gets passed and passed real fast.
Someone scores and people cheer ,
But still remember why we’re here.
At the end we clap and smile,
Thinking of soldiers for a while.
Because ANZAC Day’s about being brave,
And remembering those who gave .
Footy, mates and standing tall,
That’s what ANZAC means to us all
