Our Lady Of Lourdes Secondary School, New Ross, Co. Wexford


For eight years I did ballet

Practicing until my nerves began to fray

With a leotard that leaves nothing to the imagination

Forcing everyone into starvation

Every year waiting for the show

Waiting for that spot light glow

Then we were told the class wasn’t making a profit

The class was cancelled, the final nail in the coffin

For eight years I did ballet

And miss it every day.

Kate Doran


For as long as I can remember, I was Daddy’s girl,

He was my hero,

My entire world,

I always thought we would have each other,

And then he went and cheated on my mother.


After that everything changed,

New house, new school, new friends,

At first it was great, I was happy every day,

But then came the guilt and the shame,

I started to blame myself for losing my dad,

We were best friends,

He was probably sad,

In that big house without us,

And then I got mad.

I didn’t feel I could talk,

No one would understand,

So I took a blade to my arm,

And started to drag.


It went on for months,

One by one my friends left me,

For different reasons,

But I refused to see,

It was my fault,

Just like my dad,

And then I became sad instead of mad.


In tear’s I broke down in my mother’s arms,

She listened and just let me talk,

When I finished it felt like I was lighter,

And then I was sent to a guidance counsellor.

For a year I talked about my anger and guilt,

And my broken friendships were rebuilt,

I smiled more,

And I loved my new life,

And excepted that anger and guilt,

Only causes strife.


The Mask

She wears a mask.

One that shows a funny pretty popular girl.

One who is nice to everyone with the big pretty eyes and the big pretty smile.

Everyone loves her. Everyone respects her.

Wherever she goes she is treated like royalty.

But she was humble and sound.

She is loved at home by everyone.

Her mother, her father, her brother, her sister.

Though what they don’t know is that every morning, the minute she wakes up she grabs her mask and plasters it firmly on her face.

Then the process starts again.

But they don’t know.

No one knows what’s behind that mask of beauty.

Because behind that mask of beauty, is a broken girl, who feels no joy in her life.

She is the girl who takes pills to ease the pain, who thinks a knife is the gateway to the better life.

But it’s not.

But she didn’t know that.

And soon they found that girl, lifeless.

Next to her bed where she lay was a note.

“I wore a mask; this is me, not the girl above the mask. I am the girl who can’t be happy, even if I seem like a can.

This is me. This broken f**kedup girl who no one knew about. And for that I’m sorry”

And she was.

She was sorry for wearing the mask. She regretted it.

Although if she didn’t then maybe, just maybe she would be here today.


What To Post

Not too little and not too much

Remember to snap a pic of your brunch

Two selfies in a row is totally wrong

But its okay, if you eye brow game is strong

If you’re feeling ill, getting sympathy comments is better than Advil

And if you thrift shop post a pic at Good Will

Social Media is only a disguise

And you only show what you want to your followers’ eyes.



Blue is like the sky, way up high

Yellow is like the sun, playing with a water gun.

Red is like a rose, watering with the hose

Green is like the grass, long may it last.

Brown is a trunk, in the ground it is sunk

Black is like a shadow deep below.



In this generation we are expected to look like the way Disney portray women

Big eyes

Small noses

Small waist

Long hair

But what they don’t realise is that

In this generation we are more than “perfect princesses”

In this generation we come in all different shapes, sizes and forms of beautiful

In this generation we are beautiful

In this generation we are not princesses

We are our own

Be you.


This Boat is Where I Belong

We train the same four days

For me you give no praise

And for me it’s still a daze.


Whether in the sweat box or not

I may not get the best watt

But to have a chance I cannot.


Age or gender shouldn’t be a concern

I’ve bled for the sport, felt the burn

I doesn’t take much to overturn

So no need to be so stern.


Yes I have a job,

But my dream you cannot rob

I will prove you wrong

This boat is where I belong.

Jess Doyle


Phones are one of the best inventions known to man

You open the packaging to thinking it’s all going to plan.

You download your apps you add all contacts

Trying to remember your passwords like finding artefacts.

The trouble comes when you hear that click

That notification that makes you thick.

A f**k boy comes knocking on your messenger door

Like an interior designer wanting to fix the decor.

He’s nice at first you see a spark

He then attacks you like a great white shark.

Those stupid dudes always asking for nudes

Get a life and start preparing for your future wife.



Growing up in the world today

We’re told to look a certain way

A colourful world, black or white

It’s ours to live so others just be quite.

A delicate flower waiting to bloom

But comes crashing down far too soon.

One look or stare is all it takes

So take a moment just to think

Life is short and passes fast, live

Laugh love, make it last.


Goodbye Blue Sky

Goodbye blue sky

Now tinged by devastation and the eruption of my cry

This is not reality

”No don’t come with me, stay here with your granny”

But all I want to do is run

My cousin

Her grandson

Gone by the rope, the drugs or the gun?

He can’t have done this to himself

This can’t be true

Twenty two

His whole life to live through

How could this of gone undetected?

Did he feel neglected, rejected, disconnected?

I guess I’ll never know

Although I know I’ll miss you

And our long conversations in the afternoon sun

Smiling, laughing, until our work was done

Now I am numb

And I’ll never see you again

Goodbye blue sky

Here comes the rain.



Life is a pain

There’s nothing to gain

I’m sorry I wasn’t beside you

Cause I didn’t believe in you

Why do I lie

When you want to die

When will this be over

Cause I want to start over

Over from scratch

Nothing to catch

Goodbye my friend

This is the end


Dear Diary

Dear diary,

This poem is an inquiry

To all of those who can’t have a good time

Without a little Chardonnay.

I am one of the few

That prefers a little chocolate fondue

Yet I can’t join your party

Unless I drink liquor hearty.

But alas, I don’t wanna do that

I won’t become the bottle’s brat

I’ll let me be me and you be you

For my vice is my reality.

Aoife Jean


Yo boys listen up

A few of you need a check up

You never think, and drop us in a blink

Pushing us to slut it up, you never make your minds up

Your favourite line comes after nine,

“That’s a nice top it’d look better on the floor”

Did you really think that would score?

To be fair I don’t really care how many inches, in the end everyone just cringes

On the bus, you always get frisky but it’s way too risky

You always push it so next time you’re on my radar

Eventually I give it to you and we hit base two

When the next day comes, there’s not a word

Because you’re already hitting on another bird

Orla & Neasa

The Education System

The education system is disgraceful

Sitting in school all day listening to teachers and I ain’t even grateful

She’s telling me off and I’m gonna kick off

Yo miss I don’t mean to diss but your teaching ain’t bliss.

You think you’re a great preacher but at the end of the day your just a teacher.

Your not doing it for the students your doing it for the wages

So you can have a nice pension

You wont even have to mention

All the tension you caused.

Chloe Banville


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