I came forged in the pushcart net
I am the joker’s silver tongue
The phoenix of madness
I am monsters dawn, the hollow circle
I am the pause in silence
The company of strength
Prayer of life
The glory of anger
Books of numbers
Dementors of grief
I am the dark sword,
The hunter’s dynasty,
The hungering lie
From the city of the fallen.
I am the death-defying angel
From the darkened halo
And the lingering eclipse
From the centre of the world.
I am the traveler in time,
The sorceress from the city of ashes.
I am the child of the lord, born of lies,
Forced to linger in this world for eternity,
Made to live forever
In a world that no longer exists.
The Silver Branch Sorceress
I am the Silver Branch Sorceress
Forged in the War of the Unknown Echo
I am born of Heaven’s Whitest Flower
Perched on the highest Branch of the Nightingale Tree
My people do grieve in the departure of their queen
But grieve we must not, for danger approaches
The flower is dying and the Great Abyss
Where he the devil sits and waits for my arrival
Is crying out my name.
Emma Ní Ghiollabháin
We are the anger inside us pleading to run free,
We are the friends of bones and greatness and you too can be,
We are the endless jingling bells that ring a scooby dooby doo,
We are tortured apes that will never reach the shrews,
We are sheep that value life and every hour,
We are the ninth life of cats slowly burning like a flower,
We are joking bitterly as we eat the bones of hero,
We are towers slowly crumbling away.
Fear takes over,
Like fire over a parched forest.
Love grows like a cherry blossom tree,
In a meadow during the greyest spring.
Joy shines its golden light,
At the ending of a dark tunnel,
When the sorrow walks alone.
It is biting your nails to the quick till they bleed,
It makes you wonder the point of life
It’s the Scarlet storm that stirs when you sleep and chatters as cold as ice,
The twisted ghost in my shadow,
Creeping in the dark when its pitch black,
It is a fight it will not win because I’ll never look back.
From the disappearances of shadows,
From the madness born in the dark,
From the love that guides you through the night,
From the cries of the prisoner in your mind.
From the terror that refuses to die,
From the struggles of life,
From the ambition of people who conquer the world,
From the bones that litter hell.
I am an angel that comes from troubled worlds
And I wish that love could float in the air like confetti at a wedding.
The boy who lived is dead and the world is turning into a dreadful place
Where all happiness has disappeared.
As I lie on the cold, hard ground,
I think of the darkness in the world and of the light behind the black door,
If only one remembers to open it.
As it opens, I feel the happiness grow like a red rose on a warm spring day.
When night falls, I feel peace coming out of hiding amid a crowd of stars,
As it spreads its kindness all around the world like a raging wildfire.
Eimear Ní Chéilleachair
Weakness taps into my soul like the bullies do,
Loneliness creates an empty crater in my heart,
The madness of all my emotions crumpled up like paper,
Ambition conjured by all these,
Ambition conquers my dreams.
Anxiety lost the fight to me
It annoyed me,
Like an itch that I couldn’t reach.
I would bite the skin off my lips,
Till they were raw.
I was lost inside and couldn’t find my way out.
The anger when I saw her was uncontrollable.
She dug into my life and ripped it to pieces.
I was never so uncomfortable.
Once I said my farewells,
I found light.
The Little Things
As the smoke fills her lungs,
The alcohol poisons her blood,
Her sunken cheeks are stained with tears.
Nothing can satisfy this feeling of numbness.
As she’s drowning in her own thoughts,
Nothing can save her but a needle piercing through her scarred skin,
If only she could see what everybody else sees.
The capturing smile she puts up as a front,
The slight twinkle of hope in her bloodshot eyes,
Even her kind nature that defines her.
It’s the little things that count.
The idea of perfection,
We’re all obsessed.
We look at our reflection
“I’m a mess”
Everyone uses them,
But it’s a lie.
Mental health is such an issue,
And we wonder why?
Mountain of Fire
I live in the Mountain of Fire,
Where all trees and plants are burned,
Where moonlight continues to shine.
Silence fills my home like a mouse trying to talk.
I live in the Mountain of Fire,
A garden of shadows.
No one’s ever been there, it’s just me.
You might think it’s mad,
You might think it’s crazy,
You might think I’m a liar.
But no, it’s true, I live in the Mountain of Fire.
Sam Ó Ríordáin
I am dwelling forever in places where if there’s no shame there’s no fear.
I started the stars,
Tomorrow we shall be the champions.
Kissed by the teachers of secrets,
Fear mixed with math on a copybook of forever.
Darkness spreading fear like Death spreads hate,
They are mine,
I own everything.
Death of an Empire
From the echo of an empire,
That fell to the northerners,
From a world of death and hate,
With kings and queens the only happy people,
From a land of chaos,
Knives thrown into the back of friends,
From a place with drought in the summer,
Freezing cold in the winter,
I’m from a place that cannot be saved.
Get out of bed! Get going! Get Happiness!
It’s in your head! It’s nothing! It’s pointless!
You are dead! You are running! You are worthless!
This is the truth.
This is what I hear.
It may sound minute,
But I am in constant fear.
You have a good life!
What possibly could be your fight!?
Why if I were you I might have a good life.
I am worthless
I am pointless
I am hopeless
I love you
I am… what?
You are worth it.
You are perfect.
You and I fit.
You are loved.
I am loved.
I come from failure
I raised from the ashes
I come from beat up backgrounds and broken family
I grew up on a mixed race family but that doesn’t matter
I was loved and I was cared for
Mom and Dad always try their best,
But still I feel alone.
I work alongside mom and dad,
But that’s not enough
Enough to buy the latest brands
Now I wake up happy
I don’t care about fashion trends and fake friends,
I came from failure,
But now I’m a saviour.
It spreads like the plague and it makes no amends,
Stabs you like a knife,
When it finally ends.
It grows like a flower,
As the days pass by.
It burns like a flame but the flame always dies.
I am the colour from the coloured pane glass in the house of the lord.
I am the skyscraper that scrapes the sky.
I am the cold you feel in the winter.
I am the souls you see when you flinter.
I am the mould you see on the walls.
I am the chipped paint you see on the moulded walls.
I am dirty like an ogre
The prophet of the cave of swords
The regret that burns my soul
I am the china shop destroyed by a bull
The lonely child in the midnight glow
I am the anger that roars like the breath of a dragon
I am like a wave of dark magic
We’re expected to look and dress and act the same way as everybody else.
We’re expected to do “that” with him or “this” with her.
I guess that makes her a slut and him a legend.
My skirt has to be short but not too short or I’m “easy” and “vulnerable”
But then again not too long or I get the piss taken out of me
I guess it’s just our generation
I’m gonna try do something about it.
Dealing with a Break-up
In the morning,
When you roll out of bed,
They are the first thing to cross your mind.
It may only have been
A few weeks
But the feeling
Just gets worse and worse
Everything you see
Reminds you of her
And you’ve convinced
Yourself that it will never end
But don’t give up
As things get better
You feel like it will last forever
But you eventually move on.
There will come a time
A time where she no longer comes to mind
It will help you to fix your mistakes,
And to make yourself a better person
The girl that sees ghosts doesn’t have many friends,
She stares at you like life never ends,
The sadness in her eyes can be seen from a mile away,
People say she’s a ghost herself but it’s hard to say
She sits in a corner talking on her own
If you listen really carefully you can hear her moan
I heard her parents died when she was just two or three
But this girl seems to be living in history,
She doesn’t talk to anyone but this boy called Nicholas,
But the mysterious thing is…
Nicholas doesn’t exist.
Treating us like children won’t help,
Making girls out as sluts won’t help,
Comparing us to one another won’t help,
Division of race, culture, and equality won’t help,
But standing up together will,
Being united and becoming a community will,
Staying and uniting as one will.
I believe in the first ever talking magician
I believe in Bond, James Bond
I believe he is the first ever airman
I believe the anger burns in my mind
I believe in granny the pag
I believe I am going to survive the tug of war
I believe sadness flows slowly through the funeral
Like red blood trickling from a sliced wrist,
Secret Cinderella dragon,
Hate becomes intriguing,
Like Einstein in a grave,
Alone without logic
This poetry workshop was really nice
And you know what, thanks a lot for that.
These past few hours have been really inspiring,
And I’m sure when I tell you, that we’ll all be aspiring
To become the best people we possibly can,
Writing the best poetry in the history of man.
She was told her shorts were too short today,
She doesn’t get it though,
She only bought them with her mom yesterday,
Yet the principal doesn’t agree,
He thinks that she should have a day off, a day free.
A day to think of what she’s done.
This girl who at the age of thirteen,
Began to believe she was a
A problem, an object.
Thirteen when she stopped wearing shorts,
Thirteen when she had been sexualised.
At school, an army against her,
Thirteen when she was told she was distracting boys.
Boys who had to learn and couldn’t miss out on learning
Guess it was okay for them to send her home early?
Nichola O’ Shea
Hurling is a furious sport,
Injuries, fouls, frees, and penalties,
Sometimes there are broken bones,
Stretchers and doctors arriving to the scene.
The pain of the hurley to the shin,
Is as painful as a gunshot to the gut,
It’s as quick as a cheetah,
But as sore as a bruise.
Hurlers are as tough as nails,
Ready for the next bout of pain,
As a hand goes up in the sky,
And battered down again by strong ash.
Blood, sweat, and tears is common,
As the sliotars fly helplessly through the air,
Brave hurlers who play in a scratchy bleedy way,
Fight and battle until the very end.
These fearless men and women who hurl,
Go through tough trainings under fierce circumstances
All for the love and joy of glory,
Lifting the silver trophy proudly in the air.
My unlikely friend,
Uncle Moth, of the morning moon,
Tells me of an empty heaven,
Where the art of the universe is at war.
Amazing dreams shine upon Ribblestrop,
Like a star in the night sky.
I am a student of a school
I am dumb enough to drown in a baby pool
I am really bad at soccer
My nan’s chair is called a super rocker
I am bored enough to eat a stool
I am learning in woodwork about a tool
I am a meat shop that sells bread
I am probably always wearing red
I am going to end up with it all over me when I’m dead
I am a poet that can’t remember
I am realising the last 4 months end with ember
I am fish shop that sells steak
I am rich but live at the edge of a lake
I am saying isn’t that ironic
I am a wine shop that only sells gin and tonic
I am turning this poem to a slaughter
I am a fish that can’t afford water
I believe in the box of silence.
I believe that ogres are onions.
I believe calmness flows slowly through the church.
I believe in Bond, James Bond.
I believe in the lost Pegasus.
I believe that I will ice on him.
I believe I will tie him up.
My Daily Youth
Never did any crime, while I am still enjoying my prime,
The emotions I feel every day, will stay like grime that will not fade,
Sadness hits my heart, like a pro player throwing darts,
When I head off the sleep, I hope to god I won’t start to weep,
My body will wake and I will still feel like a disgrace,
I will go to make toast with butter and I’m reminded of my own mother,
She always makes me smile, at least for a little while,
I would go out to the day, knowing that I will never lay.
Play on the battlefield
Passin the ball about in the back field
Taking hits to the ribs
But then in training you’re wearing bibs
They look at you to lead
Even when your legs going to bleed
Rugby is for the soldiers
Playing on when you’ve got no shoulder
School is only a “few years” of pain,
But for me it will always leave a big stain,
“The only way is a good grade
To have any chance at a decent wage.”
I say screw that, dedication can get you anywhere,
Once you make that leap and dare,
Life isn’t always about A’s, B’s, and C’s,
Or making so many g’s,
Once you live your life the way you dream,
There is no reason to worry about the dream,
You’re smart always, in every way,
Even if the teachers have never given you and A,
Once you make that leap and dare,
You can end up anywhere.
I am the money that gets spent every day
I am the hurleys made in Galway
I am the medicine that takes sickness away
I am the grime cillet bang lime scale and shine takes away
I am always on the ball
I am humpty dumpty who fell off the wall
I am Denis wise who is very small
I am Michael Jordan who is very tall
I am a tough guy, if u wanna fight me give me a call
If u call me a mog ill stall the ball
I am Barry Scott I am from Derry
I am the person who goes on holidays in Kerry
I am a feen who lives on a ferry
I am a guy who says seasons greeting may your Christmas be merry
I am celebrating the All-Ireland cause the winners were Derry
I am someone who eats ice cream which flavour is strawberry
I am full the ice cream is now in my belly
I am happy cause I’m watching the telly
My friend’s feet are very smelly
I am someone who’s ma’s name is Shelly
I am someone who gets a jambon from the deli
Hi my name is jack.
I live out back.
I live on doughnuts from the shack.
I don’t like broccoli because healthy food is whack.