Words
We put meaning to words that mean nothing
A word hurts because we say it does
If we take the power away from words and give it to us can we ever be hurt
Fat, the word fat is used to hurt us but why do we let it
I say I’m fat and you say no I’m beautiful but why can’t I be both
When the girls in the changing rooms assure you
It’s not stretch marks it’s an imprint from their pants
Because we have given the strength to the word stretch mark
Words, they cut like a sword and stick like honey
The power of them felt weighing on your mind
A collection of vibrations, given meaning, given value
They tell you your worth
They describe who you are
Words, a new currency
I exchange one to receive another
“You’re so pretty” I say and my change is “you’re so funny”
Amy Brennan
These Walls
These walls echo with our beautiful TY song
They remember the choirs of happiness
The cries of sadness
The victory chants of Junior Cups.
These walls remember those who came before us
They know more about us than anybody else.
These walls know our secrets, all of them
They bear witness to our sins
They know who you were; they see who you have become
These walls remember everything
The laughs we had, the good times
And the bad
The eyes that stared
The confessions we shared
The rumours spread
The tears we shed
Homework rushed in break-time toilets.
The inside jokes
And all the good times
These walls remember TY
2019
Collective TY Students
Everyday
Everyday is a struggle,
All I can think about is that time,
When me and you were good,
And I could call you mine.
It breaks my heart,
When I hear your name
And breaks it even more
That you don’t feel the same.
Seeing you happy with someone else,
Is the worst feeling in the world,
I just want to go back to the time,
When we were happy and I was your girl.
I’ll never forget that feeling you gave,
When you ripped me to pieces
And buried my heart in a
Grave.
Anon
Spice Time
Wednesday,
Can’t wait till Thursday,
Cause then it will be four more days
Until summer time,
Can’t wait to learn how to rhyme,
Been sitting in a poetry workshop
Since quarter past nine,
I’m still struggling to rhyme a bop
Can’t wait to get my spice box.
Charley Drury