The Stolen Generations

We were playing in the paddock when we heard a gunshot,
The bell rang and many children including me were caught,
They took all our belongings, and threw them into the blazing fire,
To reunite with my family was my only burning desire,
They gave us each, one shirt to wear, emblazoned with a number,
We were flogged for wetting our beds during our slumber,
They told us our parents didn’t want us or were dead,
I cried myself to sleep, and deep inside, I bled,
Our names were useless because they would call us each blackface,
Kinchela Aboriginal Boy’s Training Home was the name of this place,
Our stories in Kinchela and the abuse we faced were spread far and wide,
Our identities would not change, how much ever they tried,
They thought they could change us from black to white, but they were wrong,
We are no longer afraid of them, because together, we are strong,
I am proud to be one of Australia’s First Nations,
I am Aboriginal and I am part of the stolen generations.


23 was established in 1997, and since then we have successfully completed numerous short story and poetry competitions and publications.
We receive an overwhelming positive feedback each year from the teachers, parents and students who have involvement in these competitions and publications, and we will continue to strive to attain this level of excellence with each competition we hold.


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