Loreto Secondary School, St. Michael’s, Navan, Co. Meath

After the Rain


Behind her mask of smiles and laughs,
Lies a little girl scared of letting time pass.
Scared of the future and where she’ll go,
Not allowing herself to love and grow.
How can you be happy when the future is unknown.
So uncertain,
So scary,
Who knows where it will go.
The time will come when she’ll leave her comfort zone,
And she’ll choose a life she loves,
Which she never would have known,
If she’d been too afraid to try and fail.

And she’ll realise she needn’t have been afraid,
Because the beauty of life is that things can grow and change,
And the sun will shine even after a little rain,
And she’ll realise that all along,
The unknown was the opportunity,
And not the enemy.


Sarah Hanly

My Thoughts, My Ideas, My Feelings


Reminiscing of the past
Hoping for the future,
Feelings are born blossomed and changed,
Society can’t command me to conform to its needs,
My imagination roams free.
I’m happy.
But then,
My dreams wake me,
And disappoint me that they are not reality.
My thoughts, my ideas, my feelings,
Lie trembling in the fear of the world’s judging eye.


Charlotte Lord


I Hope you Know


I’m finding it hard,
I’m not going to lie
I see you every time
I look into my mother’s eyes
Such a horrible thing
Took over your life
Like a ticking time bomb
It took your life
I hate it with a passion

You were the heart and soul of all our lives
Not a day goes by when I do not cry
My heart is broken, shattered to pieces
Hope you know how much I love you
Hope you know how much I miss you


Leanne Harris


“The Perfect Daughter”


She wishes she was the daughter you wanted her to be
You hoped she’d be clever and pretty and popular and talented
For her to settle down with a nice boy and have a family of her own

The perfect daughter
Without your insecurities and flaws and mistakes

She lives with the pressure
The suffocating and crushing weight on her chest
She can’t exceed your expectations yet she’s trying her best
A look of disapproval on every bad grade on a test
She cries in her room because she can’t introduce you to the nice girl she had met

But she knows the only standards she’s to live up to are her own
So she dries her eyes in the mirror so they can go unknown
Even though the insecurities still manifest in her mind
She knows that the world is not unkind

You wanted her to be full of beauty and grace
But regardless she can still put a smile on your face
She is a beautiful being and she may not think it’s true
But in your eyes she’s the perfect daughter to you.




Flits on the Breeze


Fiery and bossy and flits on the breeze,
They all thought the world would be hers to seize.
Clever and loud and self-assured and true,
They thought “is there anything this one cannot do?”

Years pass, her blazing fire begins to choke,
Her old self is merely a memory, fleeting like smoke.
Poisonous paranoia and negativity suffocate,
Feels as though her body has begun to pulsate.
Sweaty palms and an absence of air,
Continues to worsen as they continue to stare.
White heat spreads up her neck,
Panic has set in and has her self-esteem to wreck.

Late nights spent awake in tears,
Stifling sobs just in case someone hears.
Aware she has no reason to cry
But a soul has left her
Without even a goodbye.
That soul is her
And now
She feels as though she is dead inside.
Gone is the girl who once filled her with pride.

Rational thoughts no longer in her midst,
When she believes perfection will exist.
Will cure her and make her brain work the way it should
And fix the problems that not even a doctor could.


Anna Frazer

“The Voices”


I am tired
I am tired of being me
Another person in a school
In a class
Who is known for nothing
Or special
I am tired
Of being pushed and shoved
And moulded
And screamed at
And talked at
But not to
I am tired
Of solutions and remedies
And cures
Because I am not broken
I am a piece being pushed into a place where I do not belong
I am tired
Of people understanding
When they
Don’t have a clue what I have done
What I am doing
What I will do in the future
I am tired
Of looking to the future
And being told I won’t be anything useful
And being told I am too optimistic
Or pessimistic
I am tired
Of being alone and afraid
And having no one to tell me anything when all I want to do is talk
About everything
To someone
Who is no longer there
I am tired
Of the voices in my head who are not my own
But my teachers and father and sister and aunts and everyone
When all I want to do is scream
I am tired
Of everyone and everything
And wish I could crawl into a small place and simply sleep away everything
And wake up as someone else
I am tired
Because everyone wants to talk
But no one wants to listen.


Bláthnaid Longmore




I am only a girl, who’s too self-conscious,
who only sees what she’s lacking and not all she’s got.

I am only a girl, who wants to feel hope,
who is breathing not living, who dreams to cope.

I am only a girl, afraid of feeling lonely,
who reaches for cold hands, pushing away warm ones holding.

I am only a girl, with a few silly problems,
who needs to smile more and think more positive.

These are only girl problems, not worth the fuss,
I am only a girl, only a fusspot.






What I don’t understand about the world today,
We’re hidden behind “I’m fine” and “okay”
We’re forced to deal with what we feel,
Keep it concealed, like emotions aren’t real.
But what if we say what’s really on our minds?
Expected to keep it all inside.
We shouldn’t be afraid to say if we feel bad,
Because everyone can sometimes feel a bit sad.




“Growing Up”


Growing up afraid,
Dreading hearing the floorboards from upstairs.
Growing up thinking,
It was normal to be afraid of one of your parents.
Even though I’ve many siblings,
I still feel lonely.
Even though we got help,
I still feel helpless.
Being known as the bad child,
Is like being shot multiple times in the heart.
Being known as the bad child,
I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
Imagine having to fend for yourself for three months,
While feeling betrayed and unwanted.
These were the things that I felt.
But despite this,
Things aren’t so bad.
Your future is what you make it.
I believe if you want something in life you have to make it happen.
I believe if people are judging you for something you doing for you future.
They aren’t brave enough to do it themselves.
Your future depends on your determination.
Your future depends on you.
My past will not stand in the way of my future.




Blurry Memories


She is a soul trapped in a body.
You were afraid because she didn’t fit you mould,
Of what you wanted her future to hold.
She was more than a statistic,
And not just because she was linguistic.
You tried to hide, every ounce of her pride.
Her mind was filled with hurricanes, her love with obsessions,
Her confession always of her failures and never of her successes.
Her mind doesn’t fit your statistic of what a person should be,
So you never allowed her to be free.
Her thoughts seen as scary,
Her mind a monster.
Forced into a box where she learned to be afraid of the dark,
Because you extinguished her spark.
And now that she’s gone and is finally moving on,
Don’t come back with your blurry memories,
And try to convince her it was out of love.


Ciara Purvis


Subtle Embroidery


I can be myself
Allow myself to feel
My emotions,
My sad, my anger
My fear
To read
Drift into my music
I can see the sky
The sea
Breathe in the beauty
The immense beauty
Our world
Forget the bad
The strife
The hate, the wars
The cries for help
The lies
I can see my friends
Blossoms into fun
Despite the tiredness
The early morning
The love,
The fun
Memories made
Embroidered with
Undiluted, utter


Eimear Ní Fhearraigh


My High


One year old, just me and my mum, she worked four jobs, it had to be done.
Dad left us and met a new girl, “the love of his life”, he was gone on the run.
And when he came back, begging for love, he lifted me high, way above.
Nine years old and ignoring the fact, the toxics were travelling, until I turned cold.
“Grow a back bone”, he shouts, “you selfish little cow.”
The words would seep through to my skin, forever in my mind.
And I’d scream, “get out!”, tears rolling down my face,
“Get out! Get out! And leave me behind.”
Fourteen years old and scrolling through Facebook,
Moved to a new country, over the oceans without a look.
“Fresh start, new beginning”, he typed on his screen,
He took his bags and left the scene.
A year with the feeling of not being loved by someone who took the title “dad” for granted,
Claimed to be a father but then it all got harder.
When he met his new wife, and they had a baby, and I said to myself “why do you hate me?”,
I would scream to the walls asking myself “what did I do”,
When my mother would hold me, crying, “it’s him, not you.”
And I learned to accept, he had a new life,
And I grew closer to my mum, my best friend, my high.




Living for Two


This is where nothing would be the same
Where pure pain refused to give up.
Where human strength was pure insane.

A baby smiling through the pain
Unaware of her own family’s disdain.

Years of test tubes, syringes, knives,
All led to the white oak coffin,
Splattered in soil, a simple white rose I dropped.

No-one knows how it feels,
For everyday to feel this,
This deep sensation of utter shock.

10 years on no difference has been made.
Psych carer’s, everything tried,
Yet still,
You cannot shake the harrowing inside.

So you open your eyes, you push back the tears,
You seize every moment and you live that day,
For not just one but two.


Claudia Lonergan


The Land of Broken Glass


Sick of being so judged by people who don’t know me,
Feeling like a tag-a-long within friendships, full of jealousy.
Friendly and open-minded, yet I obsess over fantasy,
A world where people fly and magic exists.
My imagination wanders,
I can be myself and I couldn’t be fonder,
Not comparing yourself, picking out your flaws.
Friendships that last forever.
But this is the real world and that is not the case,
It’s where all teenage problems exist in one place.
Mia Keegan-Askin


Safe Places


In a world where war is from wage,
We wage war on those who tell us we’re less than our worth.
Who tear down, belittle or distinguished.
Out of fear of who we are.
We need the best clothes in a place where DNA is safer than who you are.
So the question is this,
Do we stay or go to a world full of people nobody knows?
To a place where we’re safe from fear, war and rape.
But wait, that’s here.
That’s meant to be here.
Well open your eyes and let me show you inside.
A place where,
Rape is okay and women are less
Because who is to say women are right when the monarchy is white men
That think they know better than the girls who suffer.
So do you stay or cast off to a place far away,
Where Prince Charming is meant to be.
But not for a woman who already has a baby.


Hannah Nugent




I feel controlled by the world,
Where every story is twisted,
And your every fault listed.
No voice, no respect, no freedom.
But we are expected to be confident and care free,
Resulting in bent up emotions,
Pressured, losing motivations.




The Classroom


Imagine being in a classroom,
And given a sheet.
Everybody else is flying,
But you can’t find your feet.
You see big words,
That you never heard.
You feel down,
You look like a clown,
When everyone else is doing it right,
And you realise yours is shite.
You think it’s just an essay, you can write it out.
But you can’t, so you wanna scream and shout.
You feel stupid, you feel dumb.
Now your hands are going numb.
You feel alone,
You’re not in the zone.
If you hand this up,
You look like a mutt.
You just sit there and pray,
That this will end today.


Eva Hunter




Humans have existed for so many years,
But for so many years more and more problems have arisen.
Back in the Roman Age where only boys went to school
And now in the Modern Age, there is only a cage,
A cage. A cage surrounding women with a certain wage,
A certain standard for a certain age.
But now it’s time to engage with each other,
More and more righteousness has been set,
We only hope it can be put to effect.


Róisín O’Dea

I Can’t Write Poems


I can’t write poems,
Not for my life, not for my home.
All I do is really try, but the more I try,
The more I really want to cry.
I am really just adding words that rhyme,
Just so that I’ll be finished in time.
This poem is very prosthetic
The more I think about it I’m
Pretty pathetic.
I think it’s time I give
Up and go home.
Hey Look!
I just wrote this


Aoife Hughes