Always an avid reader, I have collected ideas for stories all my life. In 2015 I published my first collection of poetry ‘Life Will Find You Again’ with Ginninderra Press in which I share insightful and inspirational observations about love, life and dogs. My second book of poetry ‘We Live, We Die’ was published in March 2018. It explores themes of guilt and forgiveness, love and letting go, and the many stages of change.


In 2017 I did a three-month internship with Limelight Magazine, Australia’s foremost classical music and arts publication. I was involved in a diverse range of projects, from news stories to features and interviews, and enjoyed liaising with artists, organisations and PRs.


At the end of 2018 I wrote and acted in my first short film Flawed. We have had more success than we ever dreamed of. It was shortlisted at Tropfest 2019, a finalist in the Blue Heeler Film Festival 2019 and runner-up in the Perfect Light Film Festival 2019.

You can view it here.

flawed crew

In 2019 I had the privilege of attending Fiona McIntosh’s Commercial Fiction Masterclass, a five-day boot camp that put our cohort of emerging novelists through our paces. It was an inspiration to learn from this accomplished Australian author and I have made firm friendships amongst the writing community.


Fiona being Fiona, she organized the Inaugural Masterclass National Conference in Clare, a splendid event attended by 130 delegates, representatives of the five major publishing houses in AUS/NZ and other industry experts. Michael Robotham was our guest speaker and delighted us with his stories and his generosity. The icing on the cake was the opportunity to socialize with publishers and pitch our own work.

At the beginning of 2021 I co-wrote and co-produced another short film, Small Change. The story about a woman in a corner shop who brightens the day of isolated customers won first prize at the Perfect Light Film Festival 2021. It’s a thrill, to put it mildly. Incidentally, we were the first locals to win the Perfect Light Film Festival which receives entries from all over Australia.


View an ABC article about the film here.


You can view it here.

I could use a lot of superlatives, but what the Fiona McIntosh Masterclass National Conference 2023 boiled down to is simply happiness. Marrow-deep, cellular happiness. Pitching to all the publishers, catching up with old friends, putting real-life faces to Facebook names, and making new friends in the process. Learning from the various panels and industry representatives. And having an absolute ball!

I invite you to follow my writing journey on Facebook & Instagram .


Life will find you again
Life Will Find You Again – Ginninderra Press 2015

In 2013 I started a BA in English and Creative Writing as a mature-age student. After a lecture on poetry, I found myself, much to my surprise, inspired to write poems of my own. Suddenly, out of the recesses of my mind, surfaced memories of myself as a teenager filling notebook after notebook with experiences of thoughts and emotions put into poetry. I realised then that I had always enjoyed painting pictures with words and the inspiration had simply lain dormant for all these years. Now I am catching the colours of my creativity again. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.


Hardcopies from Ginninderra Press as well as Fishpond.
E-versions sold at Amazon and Kobo.

Life will find you again
We Live, We Die – Ginninderra Press 2018

I read once that on its way to the moon Apollo 11 was only on course for about 3 per cent of its journey. But land on the moon it did, as we all know. Live is not linear. It requires constant adjusting. Each one of us experiences hills and valleys, straights and narrows, corners and roundabouts. We all take chances and miss opportunities. What counts at the end of the day is our willingness to reassess our coordinates and make a choice to stay our course. I hope that my poetry empowers you and, in a small way, contributes to navigating the roadmap of your own life.


Hardcopies from Ginninderra Press as well as Fishpond.
E-versions sold at Amazon and Kobo.

First Refugee Poem Book
First Refuge – Ginninderra Press 2016

First Refuge is a social justice anthology to celebrate Ginninderra Press’ 20th anniversary.


“I went to bed with your book last night. Some of the poems reach right into my core and make me think, even reconsider some of my beliefs such as with ‘Collective’. And then there are the comforting, simple, day-to-day murmurings such as ‘Feeling Slow’. Poems of honesty, love, confession, sorrow, appreciation – what a gift. Thank you.”

Sue Grocke


“Annette, you make poetry an emotional and personal experience – your readings of some of your poems were a perfect example of why poetry can express the deepest feelings in our souls.”

Bill Biscoe, President Friends of the Library, Barossa Valley


Book Launch ‘We Live, We Die’ 2018

Book Launch ‘Life Will Find You Again’ 2015

Author Event Barossa Public Library 2018


Interview about ‘We Live, We Die’ on Words Out Loud at PBA Fm 89.7 24/05/2018 (173mb)




‘Flowers – A Poet’s Response to Paris’ read out on Peter Goers’ Evening Show on 89.1 ABC Radio 23/11/15 (11mb)




Annette Herd on 89.1 ABC Adelaide with Peter Goers Tues 13-10-2015 (8mb)



Poetry Portfolio

Flowers - A Poet’s Response to Paris

More powerful than any gun

Are all these flowers here, my son

Laid in respect for those who died

Defying terrorists who tried

To frighten us and make us hate

I’ll promise you they’ll meet their fate.


As you are sitting on my knee

I beg you, listen carefully

I hope the seeds my words have sown

Will blossom once you’re fully grown

And you will be a man one day

Who has no hateful word to say.


Let every race and creed unite

Together we will win this fight

If we agree to walk as one

There will not be a single gun

To threaten or destroy the powers

We have invested in these flowers.


Annette Herd November 2015

Inspired by the interview of a father who helps his little son understand what happened in the

terrorist attacks in Paris in November 2015.

Their Land We Walk

Their land we walk

Ochre red dirt

Under white feet

Ploughing through country

We take we don’t talk


Without treaties or contracts

We took what was theirs

Without sorry or thought

We pass it on to our heirs


Their land we use

Breaking Earth’s skin

And digging deep

Wounds that won’t heal

In the end we all lose


With little attempt

To make right what was wrong

We debate we discuss

Make them wait far too long


Their land we farm

Creating great wealth

But unwilling to share

What nature provides

In the depth of its palm


Without remorse or regret

We can’t reconcile

What our ancestors did

In colonial style


On their land we’ve built

Cities and towns

Into blue sky

We close eyes and ears

As we fear our guilt


If we don’t honour Country

And stay deaf to its Song

If we don’t respect Spirit

We will never belong


It’s their land we walk

Ochre red dirt

Under white feet

Let’s acknowledge the hurt

Then sit down and talk


Annette Herd August 2014

The Gift of Silence

I give you the gift of Silence

Of words that don’t have to be said

Of conversations that don’t have to be had


I give you the gift of Silence

The gift of the absence of sound

Of noise that doesn’t have to be drowned


I give you the gift of Silence

Of comments that don’t have to be made

Of music that doesn’t have to be played


I give you the gift of Silence

Of communication that need not be heard

Of understanding without a word


I give you the gift of Silence

Of sound that doesn’t need to be killed

Of space that doesn’t need to be filled


I give you the gift of


Annette Herd January 2014

The Gift of Menopause

Blood flows dark and sluggish

From a waning womb

The realisation

That reproductive responsibilities

Can be put to rest

Dawns on you

As the world opens its window wide

To creativity of a another kind

The land of Self is beckoning

With a smile and the promise of pure delights

Winter becomes your season

And airflow a necessity

You dread days over 25

But nothing quenches the joy in children

Who like you are

Finding their own way.


Annette Herd October 2013


I am strong.


Not now.

Not at the moment.

Not today.


But I was in the past

And I will be again.




When a decision needs to be made.


Annette Herd March 2014

Life Will Find You Again

There are times

When something hits you in the guts

And you get the wind knocked out of you

Good and proper.

The sense of certainty

That all your hard work

Will pay off

Drops out of your hand

And shatters on the hard ground

Right next to your body.


Your achievements

And your goals

Suddenly feel tainted.

You lose faith

In your capabilities.

You feel foolish

You ever had dreams.


You seek solitude,

Because you are wounded and raw.

The image of you

Walking into the sea

And sinking to the bottom

Is strangely soothing.

But the world and its demands

Haul you back to the surface.


You switch from living to functioning.


When you hear something positive and uplifting

You feel too numb

To let it close,

Let alone touch you.


But a seed gets sown

And somewhere in the back of your brain

A little voice whispers:


It’s only a phase.

Life will find you again.


Annette Herd March 2014

Bush Flies

The flies are very friendly here.

They share your tea, they share your beer,

And with much jollity and cheer

They settle in your eye and ear.


They buzz around you all day long

Singing their low-pitched buzzing song

Immune to ointment, spray or pong.

Science’s got this one very wrong.


So in the end you ditch your pride

And don a net to save your hide,

But even if it’s tightly tied

There’s always one that gets inside.


Annette Herd October 2014


It was not me
Who created concentration camps
In the country of my birth.


It was not me
Who hunted homosexuals
And experimented on the disabled.


It was not me
Who refused
To shake Jesse Owens’ hand.


My guilt is not personal. I say sorry all the same.


It was not me
Who invaded
My adopted country.


It was not me
Who massacred and stole
Its first occupants.


It was not me
Who trampled on Dreamings
And created nightmares.


My guilt is not personal. I say sorry all the same.

Love Is A Coin Flipped Twice

What else is love, but hatred in disguise,
For love demands as much attention as does hate.
What’s love to me is hatred in your eyes.
They are co-joinéd halves that share each other’s fate.
Love, hate, hate, love, each is a coin flipped twice.
That what is hate to me you may adore and love,
I may judge something wrong and call it vice,
Whereas for you it has a place in heav’n above.
I’ve often wondered about love and hate,
The games we play, the ever-present need for fight.
Could there be room for all in a debate?
Does sun make judgements about moon, does day judge night?
If we, with ease and grace, allowed all else to be,
There would be neither love nor hate, and we were free.