Some parts are in different places,
But the clockwork still moves.
As the gears strain spaces,
The music box plays a different tune.
The tiny dancer won’t turn,
She’s not ready.
And the box doesn’t stand as strong,
But it’s keeping her steady.
Blacked out, bruised, confused,
Leeches, the screeches of violin from her room.
She thinks it was too soon.
Too emotional to feel.
And I know I’ll be seeing
All the same faces.
The music box will play again,
Just in two separate places.
Who am I?
Who am I?
I am the product of my environment
I am my parent’s daughter
I am a chemical formula.
I am a member of society
I am a student, a citizen, a teenager, a girl,
I am a series of ticked boxes on the census form.
I am an open book to my mother
I am a mystery to my friends
I am eccentric in the eyes of my cousins
I am reserved in the eyes of my class mates.
I am a bundle of insecurities tied with
A lopsided bow
I am a combination of every me I’ve
I am a work in progress.
Every day, I’m told by people who don’t understand
That I’m amazing at what I do.
I am told that I could never do anything wrong,
That each note I sing is perfection.
But even though they think this is encouraging,
It holds me to impossible standards.
I am a person to whom failure is not an option.
The pressure to succeed is forced upon me
And I’m told that even if I love something with more passion
Than I can harness into words found in our language,
There is no point in doing it if you can’t be the best.
As a child, having a hobby was mandatory, creativity was encouraged.
But suddenly, you reach a “sensible age”
Dreams are trivial and life revolves around money.
As a child, you are given false hope
That the world is your oyster and all doors are open.
Yet once you finally get to an age where you can do something about it,
Those doors are closed
By others’ ideas of what you should do, be, see, look like and, most importantly,
You are told that you are privileged, and you could never survive without money.
You are told about others, who are worse-off than you financially.
You are told that you are gifted,
But not to use that gift if you cannot rule with it.
Slowly, you break, crumble, become quiet.
Slowly, you lose that fight you once had,
When you see your future life of mediocrity staring you in the face.
People say that dreams come true if you work for them.
But really, dreams come true if you have the power to break through the expectations, Condemnations
And constant restrictions of others.
Having a dream is not letting your life be,
Ruled by the opinions of those who are not living it.
It’s a masquerade, play the game the way it’s supposed
To be played.
If only they all knew
The things that bombard you out of the blue.
The loss, the hurt and anxiety
That seem to get belittled by today’s society
It’s what you’re supposed to do,
They don’t really mean it when they ask how are you,
So sit, and upturn your lips,
Listen to all of their little tips
Let out a laugh, push past the pain and listen
Let them see your smile start to glisten.
The confusion it can bring
A facade or genuine thing?
So look, the next smile you see
Analysing it really is the key,
So stop and assess for a while,
Because maybe all they need is a genuine smile.
My little, weird and wonderful sister makes me feel important.
She makes me feel intelligent and pretty.
My beautiful goddess of a sister gives me hope.
She is everything that embodies beauty to me.
My dear brother taught me about friendship.
He opened my eyes to the brilliant and vibrant world around me.
My warrior of a Mum showed me true strength.
She carried me and helped me to rebuild my brittle bones.
My loyal Dad revealed to me that faith is more than God,
And life is more than work.
My insane family excites me for the extraordinary life that I am yet to live.
Standing in the line, p***** off your face,
And, of course, looking an absolute disgrace.
Holding on to your friend, trying not to fall,
Then a fit boy pulls you over to the wall,
He thinks you’re looking hot in your Boohoo dress
Asking for your Snapchat just seems such a stress.
You give him your phone and he types in his name
But he doesn’t add you back, oh what a shame.
In a flash, he’s gone.
You want to see him again; he wasn’t a stayer.
“Serves her dead right for kissing a player.”
You see your friend with a boy, she’s sitting on his lap.
As you walk past, you give her a clap.
It’s the end of the night and the moon’s coming out, you walks out.
A boy says, “giz a shout.”
You’re so smashed, you pass out
On the way home.
You’re going to be spending a lot of time alone.
You’re going to be grounded for the rest of your days,
All because your night was such a haze.
Clodagh Maguire and Ali Kavanagh
You are a bully
You try to shoot me down
But I’ll get up again
Because to me, you are the clown.
I know you will regret this,
In years and years to come.
But I will be moving on
Because I’m the stronger one.
I am obsessed with music
The ability to become a different person
With each song
I can be anyone
To lose myself, forgetting my problems
I can be anyone
The power I feel once at my piano
I can be anyone
My family just got a dog and it feels amazing,
It’s as if this experience is life changing.
It’s like a new-born baby has come into my life,
I’m now seeing everything in a new light.
The love and compassion I feel for her is so strong,
It is vital that I teach her right from wrong.
Her fur is as white as snow,
It is incredible to see her grow.
Her name is Bailey,
In case you didn’t know.
The class, the book, the lines, the words,
The dragging of the finger, remembering the keywords,
I am just a girl trying to fit in,
Wishing I could read perfectly the words written.
Always dreading reading aloud,
Reading in my head, the words spoken fast,
Waiting for the time to pass,
The sound of the bell that feels much expected,
Pounced out of my seat as suspected.
She is a granny trapped in a teenager’s body
Who enjoys eating sushi with no wasabi.
She drinks five cups of tea per day,
Before she heads out to play
With her friends,
Who like to stay up late
While she’d hurry to get to bed by eight.
Her favourite food is a fresh berry scone
And would rather go on a long scenic
Walk than talk on the phone,
She doesn’t waste time with gossip and drama
She is happy enough to knit a llama!
Society wants you to do one thing,
But you want to do another.
What do you do to please your mother?
Will you aid your mind
Or leave your thoughts there, forever to hide?
But all I want to do is stay true,
Even if that means I lose a few.
I want to be happy and free,
I want to be me.
An option but only of a few- Crunchy or smooth?
She’s struck by the pain of the useless wisdom tooth.
The young cashier smiles as though he thinks she’s stuck.
Although she knows less calories is best
She thinks after eating all that duck,
So young one opts for the smooth,
A risky choice as it’s said to be bad with Nutella
But she doubts that’s the truth.
The dirty coins slips within her sweaty palm
So she dips them into the green pocket cosy with
her lip balm.
Her day has improved just by the purchase and
loss of $5.59.
All because the smell, taste and feel of almond
butter is nothing less than divine.
This is the place where old men swim,
Feeling the cold in their purple limbs,
Child shrieks as their ice-cream falls,
Sunburnt teens scaling the walls,
Of big houses like ours,
Wow, your gaff is lit!
This is Sandycove, when it’s sunlit.
I hate this school, this schools a kip,
Its remains will be used in cat nip.
They have these rules
That make us look like fools,
The fact we have to wear loafers ,
We look like fucking jokers.
I hate this school, this schools a kip,
Our uniform signals the elves and their ship.
I hate this school with a passion, leaving this year
Yup yup bring on the session.
H*** in rushes
B****es got crushes
Hop on the bus
Naggins on us
Got 10 minutes to down the lot
Are we getting in, or not?
Had a scrap with the bouncer
“Let me in now, sir”
Standing in the line
Fellas looking fine
Straight to the dance floor
Spot the school’s biggest whore
“Ah hi, who’s that new fella there?”
All these snakes be cutting shapes
I’m out to pull like a raging bull
Preparing for death when Ma smells me breath
Ma’s arrived early
All is still blurry
Run to the chipper to try sober quicker
Up pulls Da, thank God it wasn’t Ma.
Louise Caslin, Ali Moyles, Claire Dempsey, Grainne O’Reilly, and Anna Schwer