READ WRITE POEM
'Immigrannit! Pommigrannit!' little children used to cry
When a child who'd come from England happened to be passing by!
Those who'd traveled to Australia from their rainy land of birth
Were treated with extreme derision, mockery and cruel mirth.
Quite unused to brilliant sunshine, they would burn and go bright red.
'You look like a pomegranate!' all the taunting locals said.
And it's true, their rosy colour with it's painful fiery glow
Resembled pomegranates in their glory, putting on a fruitful show.
'Immigrannit! Pommigrannit!' echoed round the old school yard
And, no doubt, the little children found the taunting very hard.
Time went by and 'Pom!' was shouted and that word is used today.
I'm a 'Pom' and I accept that, feeling cherished, in a way.
Greeks, Italians, other peoples ousted 'Poms' as novelties,
Now we're old-hat and the 'strangers' are the folk who're Vietnamese!
Integration happens slowly but it happens by and by.
A word now spoken with affection started as a taunting cry.
A different view here: