Every day at lunch,
You eat your chicken roll,
While we stare down your air hole,
You shout abuse as I hunch over the table.
You spread rumours online,
About the way I act,
You say things behind my back,
It sends a shiver down my spine.
You demise anyone different,
And you don’t see anything wrong,
But I am strong.
Who knows what real pain is
Pain comes in many different forms,
The pain of losing a loved one
Or the pain of just not fitting in,
The pain of being bullied,
Or the greater pain of realising that nobody came to help you
The pain of working so hard to get that a,
But to only get a b,
The pain of trying so hard to build that tree house
But for you dad to cut it down
The pain of watching you dog dying
Knowing that the only thing you can do to help it is put it down.
The pain of agreeing to what people say
Even though you know it’s morally wrong
The pain of watching a tragedy in the news,
Knowing that tomorrow it will be old news
The pain of watching someone get bullied,
Being afraid to help because next it could be you,
But if there’s anything that I know it is this,
Pain is temporary, quitting lasts forever.
Dreams of Change
Emotions, Ideas, Images and Sensations
Are what make up dreams,
They make you beam with happiness
Make you scream with fear.
We don’t know the purpose of them,
We sleep and think with dreams,
They motivate us, giving us an understanding of things,
We can dream of anything.
People can dream of change,
But yet they manage to avoid the people who don’t,
We can change for the better
But some choose to not.
Change can be for the best,
All what’s needed is a chance.
All we can do now is dream, of what we want.
Sticks and stones may break bones but wounds like that heal,
Harsh words can stick and hurt and the pain feels real,
Some things are just too hard to conceal.
They say the grass is always greener on the other side but I’d rather work on this than start again new,
Grass only gets greener when you water it can’t you see that this is true,
No time to argue I decided we’ll never be younger than we are now and I can’t spend any more time away from you.
They said we’d never amount to anything but we packed our bags left town, head held high and didn’t look back,
We were alright though, became the new leaders and tried to hide from another attack,
But here we are once again and I’m feeling like I’m gonna crack.
They’re telling me that everything’s gonna be good like it has been,
And I don’t wanna be mean so I try and act like a queen,
We all have anger,
Some more than most,
It’s not for people to boast,
We hide it inside,
But people tend crack,
And we try to stay behind,
Skins as tough as rhinoceros hide
But when people crack they explode inside,
Their pilot light turns to roaring flame,
They don’t care who is in their sights,
Even while we think anger bites,
Because they don’t know how to cope
Afterwards they retreat inside,
This is where we all try to hide,
We look for someone else to blame,
When others anger is directed on you,
We are full of forlorn hope,
Like we can’t even use a skipping rope
When people get angry, frustrated, mad,
They need time,
To find themselves,
So they can get up,
To try again
Delirious before noon,
“Mama, I’ll be home soon.”
Only you know what’s wrong,
You’ll be alive, not long.
He wakes up in the middle of the night in terror, trembling, drenched in sweat.
He lies still, afraid to close his eyes.
The nightmares haunting him, there is no escape.
He goes to school, and waits in the bathroom.
He hears the haunting voices that he so dearly tries to avoid,
He holds his breath, afraid to be heard.
But it is too late, there is no escape.
He’s forced out of the cubicle, he knows what is next.
The blood oozes from his nose, he cries in agony.
He lies on the cold tiles, numb with pain.
The sound of their footsteps fades, but he knows there is no escape.
The school day drags on as he attempts to hide the bruises, the scars.
He sits in class, planning an escape route home.
He can’t take it anymore.
There is no escape.
Chloe Burke, Sal Heneghan
Rain Will Make the Flowers Grow
“Ugly, fat, worthless”, the bullying comments fall like rain,
flooding my mind with emotions.
The drip-drop of the hail lands on me,
soaking deep into my skin.
“Ugly, fat, worthless”, the bullying comments hurt with pain,
poisoning me like potions.
The verbal rain falls, no one can see,
But I will never let them win.
“Ugly, fat, worthless”, the bullying comments fall like rain,
Onto the flowers far below,
But rain will make the flowers grow.
By Freya Blendell and Niamh Kelly
(This poem tells the story of a child who is at a psychiatrist telling a doctor about his daily interactions of life)
Doctor Doctor, I spend my days listening to parents worrying about little spots on their face,
crying over waves of wrinkles camouflaging against the fading colours of their insight into what is a disgrace.
Doctor Doctor, we worry about times where crimes are at the scenes of our lives, on the news where people’s boos are ignored. Opinions mean nothing in the eye of the power.
Doctor Doctor, we sink at the blink of an eye into the world filled of useless lines about life on the world of electronic shite.
Doctor Doctor, we try to fly without wings in terms of experiences brought to us from peers that contain ideas of acts of stupidity that we heed and bleed.
Doctor Doctor, we write to fight for our words of great insight into how or why something is not right. Our efforts mean nothing when it’s meanings are out of sight.
Doctor Doctor, my life is lies that we try to live, to hide from the light of reality, and in the comfort of our bed, we dread the outside..
Everyones been there even the guards,
You never know what type of night is on the cards
I told my mum I was going to stay
At my friend’s house until the next day,
She doesn’t have a clue what I wanna do;
Half a naggin and a few cans too.
“Ring him up hes over eighteen
He’ll get us drink but he cant be seen”
I drink it down like a fizzy coke
Taking my time, I don’t want to choke.
The smell of vodka pierces my nose,
But this type of night is the night I chose
In a grassy field that smells of grass
With people telling me “there’s stuff on your arse”
When the drink kicks in I feel like a king
Confidence is high like the evening sky
Is this reality I often asked
My friends tell me be careful “you don’t want to be harassed”
When it all becomes too much and the liver blows
And its becoming hard to feel your nose,
The field is like a king sized bed
somewhere that anyone can rest their head
The walk to the chipper is always a blur
But food is a necessity it’s always the cure
Waiters are impatient always in a hurry
But all I want is my chips, cheese and curry
Were in the chipper the lights come on,
we start to sing a familiar song
“Get out! Get out!” they start to shout,
but I’m not finished with my drunken mouth
I need to phone my mum to say I’ve just had a brilliant day
She answers and asks me if “I’m alright”
but I end the conversation with a cheeky goodnight
We’ve all done it once our secrets wont be revealed
They’re all kept safe in the drunken field
Sophia Byrne & Erin O’Reilly
I am the Sultan Of Swing,
The Captain Of Cool,
The Baron Of Banter.
I am the Cuddle Lover,
The Ginger Furball,
We are The Next Generation
We are the Bloggers,
We Are Connected.
I am Lonely.
It was very cold that day
The trees blew and almost fell
All the groves were trembling,
And the badgers were scared
Be careful of the wind my friend
It kills people without mercy
Not directly but what it does do is
Knock trees on people which scrape through peoples skin
Some days are happy and sunny
But beneath that happiness is horror
The sun, beautiful as it is, still burns people
And there’s nothing to stop it
Because the sun is fire it helps and hurts
The water is like middle ground
It is not the most dangerous and not the safest
Water is good for bringing you food
But it also is home to many scary animals
Who would eat you easily
And finally we get to the ground
It will eat you too though it isn’t sentiment
You run on it, you live on it
It is good and bad like everything else
All the elements have dangers-
Though not apparent at first
Though you may be surprised by this,
Somebody endures this every day.
By Dónal Parkinson
Playing on the green field,
Chasing and racing,
I finally got there,
As I reached across to stop the ball,
With a bang so small,
I fell to the ground,
People gather around,
I had to leave,
It was hard to believe,
I felt a bit weak,
This is not how I express myself
Words don’t form, I can’t explain
An English A student but aptitude I feign
Numbers are stupid, letters are worse
My thoughts; wordless, imagination; abstract
Outside the curriculum I feel attacked
by Orla Minish and Eibhlín Lennon