St. Vincents Secondary School, 8A Farren St, Gerald Griffin St, Co. Cork


The days grow darker
Painfully longer,
Each hour that passes
Increases her mind’s isolation.
“Did they notice?”
“Do they care?”
Anxiety creeps like a shadow
Infecting her like a disease.
Circling her thoughts like vultures
In labyrinths of ridicule and fear.

Her glass mind wanders
Dark corridors
Chases fading clouds.
The gargoyles mock her
Stoic, weird, pitiful her.
Slowly, minute by minute
Hour by hour
Day after drawn-out day,
Their razor sharp words fade away.
Growing more disconnected,
Feeling more aware,
She becomes tired, cold,
Hard as stone
A gargoyle
Fashioned by fear.

Megan Murphy

Dad Gone

My mother plays a mother’s role,
Now a father’s too
All of this unwantedness I wish I never knew.

I always keep on learning,
Stories people tell,
And every story that I hear, hurts inside like hell.

All these years of make believe
Pretending not to care,
Wanting to ask you why oh why
You left us stranded here.

You left me feeling so distraught
Was it really worth it dad?
Have you just forgotten?
Or are you really just that bad

Maybe you have excuses
Perhaps you should be forgiven
A father isn’t always why
Children keep on living.

Dad, Father, Papa,
What do those strange words mean?
To me they mean just being there
But you Dad are unseen.

Ciara Murray


I spend most of my time here
Too shy, shrinking in the crowd
Trying to sleep
But the voices are too loud
Staying far too quiet
Playing with my hair
Biting my finger nails
Till they bleed everywhere
Looking up at the wind
Blowing through the trees
Terrified that the one I love
Will be taken by the breeze
Searching for that save place
Where I can open up
Where scorpion and spiders
Won’t take away my trust
Think I finally found it,
You always lift me up
Fill me with helium
Till I feel like I’m gonna burst
Even when you give me doubts
I give you all my trust
Just hoping you won’t break my heart
Or leave it to collect dust.

Bianca McCarthy

Cry in a Corner

Cry in a corner, talk to my mother.
Curse to the deamons, the ice stops melting.

Glare from the corner, talk to my father.
Baking a broken heart.

Anger growing, tears stop flowing.
Yelling to the heavens.

I’ll talk to my brother.
Confess to the murder, my dreams lie dead on the floor.

Glaring from the corner, I’ll talk to my lover.

You laugh at my sorrow, but I’ll simply glare.

The planet Earth’s core isn’t even on your sad, sad level.
I can smirk from the mountains, powerful and strong
As Karma takes you lower, to bottom of the barrel.

Jessica Healy Griffin


The Way He Should Be

A father was meant to be kind.
A father is meant to bring cheer.
A parent is supposed to bring unconditional love
Not be the harbinger of fear.
A person should know how to treat other people
A person should know when to stop.
I wish I could.
He was kind and protective.
But the truth is that he was not.
He should have known not to hurt us
But he didn’t even know how to care.


The Game

The gym is my second home
Like school it’s my routine
I practice like I study
I play just like I dream
The ball in hand
The hoop in sight
To win, my heart’s desire
The game is my life’s true passion
It is my spirit’s fire