Donna Young - Author / Poet / Illustrator
Donna was born in the Australian country town of Cootamundra in 1975. She grew up in the New South Wales towns of Grafton, Sydney and Newcastle, and currently resides in Sydney with her family.
She survived final-stage cancer in her teenage years and has since run several companies while bringing up her family.
Donna values nothing more than family bonds and strong friendships and has dedicated her life to her children. Her first published book Frazer Glazia, Donna wrote for her children in 2012.
Watch out for her incredible story of guts, determination and strength – What was That? Due out In 2014 more »
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Donna Young Poems
The Thunder Bolt
As I go slowly up the hill Bumping and rocking from side to side Looking with a pale face Down we go
Get out of my room, go back through the door. Your words of so called wisdom, I will ignore. My time has not come, and I’m running my own race. I will not have someone say my last grace.
I’ve got this!
To find the power to climb a cliff To shoot a goal when I’m determined not to miss To rise my way to the highest branch To win the race which I know I can
Hugs and Kisses
Shit goes with the flow
Ups and downs
When the lightning strikes and the storm has settled, you pick up the pieces and count your medals. When you wipe your tears and start to dance in the rain The sun comes out ready to start a bright new day. The doctors have told me. I am at the end.
When we were younger we never agreed. As we grow older we rarely meet Life is so busy now When did this happen?
A poem for you
You fart in my bed ever night, snore in my ear and hog my side. You are in my mind every minute of the day. And the butterflies you give me just won’t go away. I will stand by your side and fight your battles.
Comments about Donna Young
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
The Thunder Bolt
As I go slowly up the hill
Bumping and rocking from side to side
Looking with a pale face
Down we go
Over the loop, fast as can be
That is the end of poor old me