Scoil Mhuire, Ennistymon, Co. Clare



Colours welcome you into the world,

A blessing we never fully perceive,

Painting landscapes of mirth and sorrow,

Separating poor and rich,

Fortunate and unfortunate.

Bleeding crimson as everything fades,

Abandoning us as all goes black,

Losing colours meaning and swallowed by dark,

You wonder if you ever knew the world at all.


Not a Phase


This is just a phase,

I know you, this isn’t you, she says.

Don’t be stupid, you’re not, he says.

But it is, this is me.

Its just your hormones, you’ll be fine is a few years,

Just wait and you will see.

But I know myself, this isn’t “just a phase”,

This is me.


Great Expectations


Perfection, the impossible goal

Yet there is pressure and pressure and pressure

Work hard, make money, and die successful

But who’s to say money equates to success


I’m just a child

I’m not a prodigy


And I work and I work and I work, to what avail

The reward, more books, more books, and more books.

I’m stuck in this trap, set by myself

I’m not good enough

I need to achieve perfection


I’m just a child

I’m still in gestation

How do I deal with these great expectations?


I strive and I struggle to reach unattainable goals

Set by myself because I am not good enough for me

But when will it end, this endless cycle

Elusive goals make for depleted persons


I’m not perfect

I’m just a person


An All-Girls School


Where a mountain of insecurities convey,

Yet judging everybody is mandatory.


Nothing spreads faster through the school than gossip,

It’s almost like a virus – contagious.


The hatred and distancing of men is bread into our minds,

Making us wonder how we will ever communicate with the opposite species.


Enough drama to broadcast our own reality show,

Knocking the Kardashian’s from their No1 spot.


A house for a gender so powerful once united,

Yet so destructive once divided.


An all-girls school.




“Snowflakes” they call us, gen Z.

Our generation who are fragile and weak.

“Snowflakes” But our problems aren’t the same

“Snowflakes” But our life is a different game

But “snowflakes” that’s all that they see.


These are the things we are told

By people who think that they know

And yes you might be older

And your school was colder

But we feel a different woe.


The Inevitable


The bright white light that welcomes us into this world

It’s the same as the one that lets us know it’s our time to go

But what if that white light isn’t just the end

What if the white light is always the first thing we will see


When we are born, the white light is the hospital room

Cramped in are many doctors and your loved ones who you will get to know over the years

But then we leave this world

No matter how good or bad your life is we all have the same outcome

Inevitable death


There are many ways to go out, some people like to beat death by checking out early

Some live a full life and are content with all of their achievements

But why do we care so much when we all go out the same way

What keeps us all going every single day when our outcomes are not in our control

Why do we care so much when we all will just slip out of consciousness for the last time


What if that white light we see when we are on the verge of death is the new begging

What if that light is another life

What if we are reincarnated and that is why we cry when we are born


We come out wrinkly as babies

What if it’s us shrunk down into a baby skeleton as to say it’s our second chance at life

This white light is inevitable and what comes after is infinite different possibilities


It’s a race to death and we all ignore it as to say it isn’t a huge part of our existence

We all know we are going out whether we like it or not

So why don’t we just savour the moment and be happy for once


Growing Up


Growing up you are expected to look at your father as the hero in your story

As the man who can do no wrong

The first man a girl loves


You hear stories from your friends about how good their relationship is with their fathers

How their each other’s best friends

How they would be lost without each other


But growing up hearing these stories

I always wondered what happened to our story

To make it the complete opposite to what other people experience


Now I’m older and I realise that a father daughter relationship is something I just will never have

I have to learn to accept that

There was never a beginning to our story

Just an end.


The Cycle of Nothingness


Wake up at seven,

Eat your breakfast, brush your teeth,

Leave for school, make small talk on the bus,

Try to understand higher level maths.

Have lunch with your friends two metres apart,

Go home and study, to do it all again tomorrow.

That isn’t living, that’s surviving.

No excitement, we’re just black boxes on a screen.

When will the repetitive cycle end?




Constantly moving but never at peace

I feel I’m waiting for life to seize

Searching for moments I truly enjoy

Like when I was younger and played with toys

Pleasing society is getting too hard

Tryna act like something I’m not in the yard

My rose tinted glasses are starting to fog

I feel like I’m being pulled down into a bog




Ninety-seven percent

I envy the three

Instead i sit

In my sense of security’s debris


I’m getting past it

As time goes on

But as the night time comes closer

Well, how I wish it was dawn




I come from glancing back to make sure he’s not still behind me,

I come from keeping my head down in the streets praying he won’t make a comment,

I come from no the first time not being enough,

He calls me easy when I’m interested

He calls me fridget when I’m not

He is your son, your father, your uncle, your friend

WE need to change this




I come from a small place

A place where the air is fresh

But most importantly a place where people connect


You would be walking for days ’til the nearest shop

Climbing on roofs to hear the phone hop

Bursting tires from potholes on the road

But still a place I want to grow old


It is a place that i would stay forever

A place I want my children to be raised

A place I want to come home from work to

And a place I want to stay forever.




School is where we go everyday

To be judged, criticised and thrown away.


By teachers and students, people we don’t care about

Pressure on us, no where to let it out.


9-4, 5 days a week

An unnatural streak.


When 4 o’clock comes, here’s the end

But thats also when you leave your friend.


Then your family asks you if you’re okay

Then you think that you just have to relive the same day.


My Life is Like a Pen


It’s full of ink

Ready to write new stories

To share with the world

Make a mark on the page


I use my pen everyday

I let people borrow my pen if they forget their own

I find other ways to write my story

And often I don’t tell it all


Sometimes my pen needs a bit of a shake

If it’s been writing for a long time

It helps to get the ink flowing again

And it works perfect, like nothing is wrong


As time goes on the ink runs out

It can’t write any more stories

The pen has been used and its time is up


Pair of Eyes


We listen to loads of opinions daily


Why some of them stay stuck very deeply on our hearts?


Life is seen every second for millions and millions of eyes


Why should we give all that power to a just a pair of eyes


Teenage Years


It’s just the teenage years

It’s not the depressing nights alone in your room

Or the thoughts of comparing yourself to others

It’s not the wondering eyes you see while walking through the corridors

Or the comments you get from your mothers

It’s not the failing school because you’ve been too stressed

And it’s not the thoughts of not wanting to go to school

Because your just too depressed

You’re supposed to live your life

But I always wondered

Why many teenagers’ lives are so difficult

And we are all wishing we were younger again


On a Farm


When living on a farm

Your best friend becomes the morning alarm

And when the sun rises on the hot may day

Your dream is to make the hay

You spend the day cutting grass

And realise,

I’m learning more than what i do in class