Poet’s Corner


le Amy Hughes


Is fada liom uaim an gnáthshaol,

Oícheanta maui gg left cairde,

Turais siopadóireachta le haghaidh rudaí nach dteastáionn iain,

Agus scannáin le go leor milseán roinnte.


Is fada liom uaim an chuid eile de mo theaghlach a fheiceáil,

Oicheanta cluiche, agus cainteanna,

Faoi, cad atá a dhéanamh againn le haghaidh at leathanta breithe.


Anois, déanaimid téacsáil agus glaoimid,

Bá ag súil,

Beimid ar ais,

Go gnáthshaol, go luath.


‘A Man’s World’

 Saoirse Hoey

I am a girl ,

Hair full of curls

I clean the house.

But I would rather be outside

Trimming the hedges.

But mother says

“That’s a man’s job”.

And father says

“If I try it will flop”.

I want to be outdoors but,

Instead I’m in doing chores.


Jack my brother has all the fun,

When I peel spuds one by one.

Hopefully one day they will see.

That I can cut down a tree.

Hopefully one day they will know.

I can mow the lawn as well as sow.

Hopefully one day I can do all the

Of the “men’s jobs’’.

Without being told

“Leave that to your brother”.

I am a girl.





The Flower

By Abigail Ellis


The Flower stood so tall,

amongst the flowers and plants small.

Rain, hail or shine,

It stood completely fine.

The flower symbolised hope and faith,

while it’s impending doom had no set date.


And as the unburdened summer skies grew opaque and brittle,

the time they had left was very little.

A youthful infant observed the flower,

and ceased it with such mighty power.

It was then and there the flower began to comprehend,

all good things must come to an end.

The Year 2020

By Amy Edwards


The year 2020,

A year of lockdowns and protests,

A deadly virus, online tests,

Home-schooling and deaths,

We couldn’t wait for this year to pass,

We longed for the day the virus would go,

Along with all our sorrows and woe,

Maybe, just maybe, deep down, we all knew,

our luck wouldn’t just change with the year,

But still, we hoped,

In fact, we hoped a lot that year,

We hoped the virus would go,

We hoped that Donald Trump would go,

We hoped that black people would be treated just the same as us,

We hoped our families would be safe.

Our Lives Learn to Mend

By Robyn Meehan

Spring gone by, a disease ran rife,
A summer passes by the youth.
An autumn return to everyday life,
But a winter’s realisation of truth.

An Easter broke hearts, the eggs as frail,
A solstice fails to bring the light.
Halloween left a forgotten tale,
A Christmas with loved ones out of sight.

But the future is never set in stone,
Despite the darkness, days will differ.
For now more than ever, we are not alone,
Together we’ll build brighter days, if we’re

Resilient, patient, by each others side,
The future will dry all the tears that we cried.
It may seem hopeless, we’ve hit a dead end,
But little by little, our lives learn to mend.

The pain and the death, can not be ignored,
But those who remain are worth fighting for.
For every struggle, there’s something to learn,
And when death takes, life gives in return.

Although we don’t know just how long it will be,
We’re in this together, them, you and me.
Although this mountain’s a difficult climb,
Soon we will all smile back at this time.

For it may seem hopeless, we’ve hit a dead end,
But little by little, our lives learn to mend.


by Oliver Keenaghan                                       


One day, a man decided to have bat soup for tea

(Which honestly doesn’t sound very pleasant to me)

But to our surprise, there was a sickness in disguise

And the whole world was soon in for an unamusing surprise


Within weeks, we were locked in our homes

Nothing to do, but sit and groan

Many thought “It’s a scheme, it’s a lie!”

But those people probably were just sick of inside


Soon, there was a new standard

As to avoid the sickness

A two feet gap was the answer

While most were sensible folk and obliged

The others were left quite surprised


These few folk were quite riled up

“These rules are a hoax, it’s all made up!”

With all these rules, how could they give their nan a hug?

Or go to a spa and get a foot rub?


So, these people began to protest

“The 5G is the source, it controls the rest!”

“If we don’t do something, we’ll all be oppressed!”

So, of course these people did what they thought was best


Which was obviously burn down the 5G towers and put them to rest!

They ran amok, wreaking havoc like pests

The problem being that they do not know 2G from 5

And soon, necessary infrastructure was down countrywide


“Look what I found in my child’s mask!” Someone proclaims

On to the web, and the government are to blame

Because this woman had found circuitry

In her poor poor child’s PPE!


Obviously, this was debunked quite fast

But that did not quell the anger at last

People went on and on, with “look at this!” and “look at that!”

“The vaccine will inject a machine”

“Controlling us like puppets while remaining unseen!”


Obviously, all of this is a load of hogwash

But at least it does make an entertaining watch

For those of us sensible enough

To stay indoors, sit tight and stay tough


All in all, this COVID bonanza

Has given me quite a few stanzas

But, to all you hypocrites still convinced

That the government control it, behind the mist


Please oh please just go back inside

Put on a mask and stay sanitised

Maybe videocall the family for an hour

Oh wait, you burned down the internet towers!



Le Anna Creedon


Is iad an dath inár saol

Róis agus lus an chromchinn

Ag tógáil ár súile

i ngach áit


Fiú, nuair atá sé ag cur sneachta

Nó ag cur báisití

Tá siad ann

Sa lae agus san oíche


Sa féar nó ar tom

Sa chúinne nó ag dreapadóireacht

Ar an gclaí

Tá siad ann an t-am ar fad


I gcruthanna agus méid difriúala

Mór nó beag

Bláthanna nua atá plandaí

Gach lá


Bia dona hainmhithe

grian ag teastáil

Agus uisce gach lá

Níl sé i bhfad


Níl siad d’aimsir fuar nó té

Fluich nó tirim

Is iad an cothromaíocht

Fannsláinteach ach láidir


Tá siad nádúrtha

Ach tá siad gléineacha


Nach é?


Is iad an bun-dath

Do gach dath inár saol

Do dhath ar ár bpinn

Agus ar ár n-éide


De bharr, a mboladh álainn

Thug siad suimhneas dom

Thug siad nóiméad gan imní dom

Agus nóiméad análaigh a dhéanamh


Glacaimid leis go mbeidh

Bláthanna ann go deo

Ach, stad, féach agus análaigh

An feiceann tú?


Tá siad ar mire


Táimid chomh- ádhúil

Go bhfuil bláthanna inár saol


Samhlaigh a bheith

I do bheatha ar Mars

Níl aon bláthanna álainn ann

Beagáinín  buíochas?


Is breá liom bláthanna

Buí nó gorm

Bándearg nó glas

Fannsláinteach ach láidir

Is iad an dáth inár saol


His fears…not mine’

By Mia Muldowney


Spider, Clowns, Heights …. there’s more,

these are not things to adore.

Social places and new faces,

and for some reason even small spaces!

Nowadays more fears are being made,

the little Black boy who is afraid,

that he will wake up and get the news,

of one of his family that won’t just have a bruise.

Their life taken as fast as can be,

like a ship sailing off into the Dark Sea.

He didn’t even get to say goodbye,

I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to cry.

And now every time he sees a member of the police

that pain will increase.

And so will the Hatred, Anger and Fear,

of every police man that is near….

Spiders and Snakes won’t hurt us at all


But remember actions like this could cause the world to fall….

The Wonders of Reading

by Szymon Demski


Oh, how wonderful it is,

To slip into the abyss,

And let all your problems go away.


The wonders of reading,

at first I didn’t care,

but now I stare,

at the pages of the book,

all day.



By Tyler James


When you smile at me,

you have your memory.

When you forget my name,

I love you the same.

When you remember to hug,

that’s what I love.


Just like a flower,

you lost your bloom.

your petals fell off,

far too soon.

Fading away as time went by,

until the day we said goodbye.


I won’t forget your name,

or your hugs just the same.

Remembering your smile for me

In my mind that’s what I’ll see.

Never forgetting our fun times,

I have room for both yours and mine.


Remembering you always, is what I’ll d,o

you see you’re my Nan and I’m your number one fan.

“Peace cannot be kept by force it can only be achieved by understanding”

-Albert Einstein


Fields of Hope


By Aimie Kerrigan


He lays in a field filled with blooming wildflowers.

The gentle wind moves their flourishing petals.

The fear of the unknown,

The inevitability of death,

its unpredictability lingers on our planet like mother nature.

He takes a slow deep breath,

his diaphragm slowly expands,

filling his lungs with the saccharine, delicate, light aroma of the field.

It stays sweet in his mind like the aftermath of a compliment.

He lays on the overcrowded blades of grass,

letting the floral scents and vibrant colours bring him tranquillity.

A shuffling noise awakens his peace,

soft pitter pattering of small feet.

It’s a lamb.

He envies its innocent, pure mind

Unaware of the evil lurking nearby,

its wool is as white as snow covered mountains.

His eyes are deep, black, wide with curiosity,

his pink nose twitches with uncertainty.

His wool is smooth.


Flowing like a sea over velvety cream sand.


Night falls as the sun cowers to the horizon, he glances at its final moments of beauty.

He glares at the night sky draped with a curtain of darkness,

illuminated with bright gleaming, glittering stars.

The lamb disappears into the twilight

He shivers with the cold as the hairs stand up on his arms.


The colour slowly fades from his rosy cheeks

replaced by a ghostly shadow of his previous self.

However he is not fearful of the darkness.

It devours the land, like roots of a tree

dispersed like a labyrinth.

His thoughts are laborious.

In a world of constraints,

freedom is felt.


Fields of hope – synopsis


In this poem I wanted to keep the theme quite broad to let the reader expand their imagination. The main message of my poem in that even in great loss and trauma peace can be found. I empathized the feelings of guilt, loss and grief and tried to display to the reader that these feelings can be conquered by hope and peace. In this poem the simplicity of nature centres his mind.

I brought a young lamb into the picture to symbolise peace, innocence and new life, reminding the man that not everything encompasses evil.

I looked at good and evil in the contrasting images of light and dark worlds. I gave the beginning (light world) a comfortable, ataractic atmosphere which was then dominated by a captivating, mysterious, perilous atmosphere (dark world). Threat is persistent; but he does not cower, instead he embraces the land of darkness and obscurity.

“A man is but the product of his thoughts what he thinks, he becomes” -Mahatma Gandhi

In this statement Gandhi explains the power that our minds have over our actions. I related this to my poem as the man chooses to accept the darkness even when the world can be jubilant. There will always be a flip side, a world brimming with evil; he faces this world with courage as he controls his mind to no longer fear the unknown but to embrace this situation because the sun will rise again.



The Moth

By Sophie Moore


Blank, round

Observing eyes.

Nestled in a bow of fur,

Arms outstretched,

Thorax shaking.

As their wings furiously beat,

Drawn to the blaze of the fire.

Like Icarus it will perish.

The temptation for redemption, freedom

The lust for light

To fill the dark void within.

As its wings singe,

Eyes blinded by the thrashing flame,

The burning tendrils grasp onto the wings

Consumed by light

Searing and charring its little body.

Spitting out an ashen form

Small, content,

Delicate, dead

Another lost to the inferno.


Magic in a Mundane World

By Megan Murrin


When was the last time you looked up and saw stars?

Think about it for me, think long and hard.

Have you got it? Do you remember?

Why wasn’t that magic?

Why were the twinkling dots of light,

you found painted on the canvas of night, not magic?


When was it last you yearned for a friend?

A wanting so deep, you could barely comprehend

How much it was you wanted to talk to them until,

A message? From that friend- “Hi!”

How was the randomness of such,

a sudden coincidence, not magic?


And how about reading a book?

Being swept away and up by words,

Letters, shapes of your understanding.

To be plucked from our world and tossed to any and every other

For an experience…a feeling…a view so few will ever appreciate as much as you do.

How is the illusion of living

another human’s crafted fantasy, not magic?


When was it that you hadn’t overlooked these things?

How is it you’ve ignored the whims of day to day,

The underlying mystery of is basic reality just playing a game of

Deception and trickery?

Burning balls of fire in the sky,

A connection of emotion in a welded bond

A transportation of existence while lying in your bed.

How are these flashes of erratic,

Not magic in a mundane world?


Na Scamaill

le Szymon Demski


Na scamaill.

Eitlíonn siad trasna na spéire,

Ard, ard suas.

Bíonn siad os cionn Éire,

Bíonn siad sa Spáinn,

Bíonn siad i ngach áit.

I rith na hoíche,

I rith an lae.



le Faye Dunne


Tá sé ag cur sneachta

Ionraíonn bán a tsneachta chomh geal

Tá gach duine taobh amuigh

Ag déanamh fear sneachta níos airde ná car

Tá na troideanna liathróid sneachta ar súil

Tá na sráideanna ag Iasadh suas

I wanted a puppy

By Rebecca Keogh


I wanted a puppy

I wished for a puppy

I need a puppy

I’d love a puppy


My birthday came

My ma gave in

Me Da freaked out

I got my puppy

Her name is Belle

We all love Belle

Even me da.

War Horse

by Aisling Casey


I turned around and I saw

Something stiff and grey,

I looked at him and was sad

So then I turned away.

I couldn’t stand the sight

Of the bombing and explosions

So I covered my best friend

And I hurried to some Trojans.

There was nothing they could do

So I knelt and said a prayer,

For the horse that I loved

Just to keep him there.

I decided to get on with life

The cleaning up of things,

To leave behind the stress and strife

And to think of him.


I think it’s really terrible

That people can’t agree.

And to see the hatred in the world

to the whole degree.


It’s nice to see the people help.

It’s what we all should do.

And one of those to make amends is absolutely true!

They called it Prioritizing

by Shauna Curtis


They called it prioritizing,

I never understood,

That when you do such a thing

It can make you feel so good.


It’s about ordering yourself,

Making sure the important comes first,

I never used to do this

Meaning at 11pm I wanted to burst


You see online school requires this,

But after number one I now know,

That to prioritize everything

Is the only way to go!


So, I thank myself and my teachers,

For helping me learn this skill,

As If I had never learned it

I’d still be seeking the thrill!


This poem is inspired by” Introduction To Poetry” by Billy Collins




by Emma Coyne (3 Mask)

I don’t think people realise how hard it is being a girl….

If you don’t wear makeup, you’re not trying enough,

no one will like you,

but if you do wear makeup, you’re fake?


If you don’t look like the supermodel on the cover of a Victoria’s Secret magazine, you’re not good looking,

but if you are confident in your body,

you’re an attention seeker, a show off.

If you don’t go out to drink and smoke, you’re boring,

But if you do, that’s disgusting.


If you aren’t with a new boy every other week, you’re dull and tiresome,

But if you are,

You’re a show off. Always trying to one up someone.


If you post pictures of yourself on social media, you’re an attention seeker,

But if you don’t, No one will notice you.


If you’re “too thin”, you have to gain weight,

But if you go over by a single pound,

you’re “Fat”.

Don’t be too confident,

that makes you self-absorbed,

but don’t be shy either,

that’s so unattractive.


These are all the things girls face everyday to “fit in”. When society changes their standards, maybe the world will be a better place.




‘Golden Sugar’ – Zahara White

A single tear falls off your cheek,

With the golden sugar pebbles that stuck to the clothes you wore,


The soft breeze blows against your hair,

Carrying the sparkling sugar through,


A painting, hung in the lighthouse keepers’ home,

A wave of calm across his face,


It’s a picture-perfect scene,

The place where he spent his Autumn days with you,


If the reflection of the sky,

Washes away each unique shell you touched,


Never to be seen again,

Then do it while you can, bid them farewell,


He remembers the touch of the grains between your fingers,

But like the shells, they too, have left,


For Winter has taken over your Autumn,

As Spring will arise over Winter, to drift the trinkets away


Alas, not yet, the white has come to this land,

Freezing over what stole those shells,


His memories frozen,

Never lost nor disappeared, just frozen,


A golden sugar land glows underneath the sun,

As winter steals it away slowly,


But you know Autumn will be back one day,

Just hold it before it fades away, away, away.



There once was a nearly poor Man,

With a wife and two kids like many,

So desperate for good pay he ran,

Almost without a penny.


One day a file was handed to him,

The award was high on money,

When he saw this chance to cut his despair slim,

He hopped for joy like a bunny.


But this job would be a fearsome fight,

As it is for a war,

Due to tough training on  bloody nights,

The man knew this would be a chore.


While he started pretty rough,

And his hopes were almost blocked,

He pushed himself to be more tough,

And his potential was unlocked.


Many months after his first day,

The man was ready for war,

He wants this done and away,

No what matter the gore.


The two sides go head to head,

Both with courageous men,

The man fears thoughts of being dead,

Wondering what would happen then.


The mans comrades clock ticked,

Until the end of their misery,

But the opposing team couldn’t predict,

The come back of history.


The mans soldiers picked up the pace,

While wondering “was this fate”?

The pieces have landed, the pawns are in place,

And it was time for checkmate.


But the general shot once more,

His gun to survive

However the person he aimed for

Somehow, is alive.


This was not due to aim,

Not luck like a dice,

Not by guilt or shame,

But the man’s sacrifice.


The general may have been killed,

And paid for his crime,

But the man’s goal couldn’t be fulfilled,

As he ran out of time.


The man approaches his death,

Thinks of  his life as ‘what a chase,

As he draws his final breath,

With a smile on his face.


‘A Man’s World’  by Saoirse Hoey


I am a girl ,

Hair full of curls

I clean the house.

But I would rather be outside

Trimming the hedges.

But mother says

“That’s a man’s job”.

And father says

“If I try it will flop”.

I want to be outdoors but,

Instead I’m in doing chores.


Jack my brother has all the fun,

When I peel spuds one by one.

Hopefully one day they will see.

That I can cut down a tree.

Hopefully one day they will know.

I can mow the lawn as well as sow.

Hopefully one day I can do all the

Of the “men’s jobs’’.

Without being told

“Leave that to your brother”.

I am a girl.