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”
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.
By Sophie Moore
Nestled in a bow of fur,
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
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?
le Szymon Demski
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.
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,
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.
‘THE PRICE FOR WAR’ BY NATHAN NEWMAN
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.