TEN INCH CENTIPEDE by Irene Over the deep pointed hills Across the snakey river (twisted) In amongst the shrubby stones Where the ferns stand straight up with their curved designed heads. Under the logs where the fungus sticks like pauas The ten inch centipede slept soundly With legs and claws like pine needles And eyes that are shaped like tacks, And body like a crayfish's back. He creeps through and out of the small dirty rotten logs Where all the small creatures skim away from the horrible ten inch centipede He sticks his catchers right out With his legs lying flat to the ground Waiting for something that just passes his way And two minutes later he struck his prey And took it into his leaf shaped mouth …

EDITORIAL Our school newspaper is called Puhia te Weri which was named by Frances Heremia, who is fifteen years old and has just left school. Puhia te Weri means shoot the centipede. We were going to call it Puhia te Pakeha which means shoot the white man but we didn't because that might start a war and we don't really want a war here. (NELL.) Irene won the centipede poem competition and for the prize she had two tree tomatoes, two pencils, a pencil sharpener and some sweets. David Windust did the front cover which he calls ‘centipede hunting’. Edward Martin designed and printed the name page. (TED H.)

THE WEATHER by Mary Matiu This is a cold day because it is going to be a storm again and it is going to be a flood too. I think it is wonderful to have a swim in the flood. Today it is heavy rain and it rains every other day. One of our ducks died because it was rambling down in the flood. The next morning we saw the duck's flipper marks on the banks and his head and body was in the ditch. I wept and wept that my duck was dead. When the flood was over I saw sticks, stones, rags and old clothes. I was glad when the storm was over, but I never noticed that the drake died too. I was just that glad and happy that I never noticed. I laughed and laughed and laughed.

BABY BIRDS by David Heremia (12) Baby birds open their beaks Like open buckets The bucket waiting for water And the baby birds for worms …

THOUGHTS ABOUT LIGHT by Irene English Light As Mum fills our seven year old light It mumbles as the kerosene rises up. Light Sprinkling through the coloured curtains Light flits through and out of the window blinds And through it, makes a coloured film. Moonlight; Passing through the tangled bushes Streams; trees wading in the water Lifting their umbrellas up to shade Cars: Rushing through tar sealed streets are cars, trucks passing like lightning. Waves thrashing upon the beaches, Foam bubbling below it Birds hiding in their nests Seaweeds waving like cotton threads ….