All the insults that are spat
All the broken friendships
That happen along the way
All the lifelong kinships
All the good times and the bad
The fights and all the break-ups
The fun times and the boring
The things that you cannot leave behind
The stress and the relief
All the heart-felt promises
The heartbreak and regret
All the golden memories
That you never will forget
Till time has passed you by
And you are smiling in distance
At your days.
Eoin O Brien
Sad, unhappy, helpless, depressed,
Nervous, anxious, worried, stressed,
Like I’m the only one that feels
I don’t see it, but you feel.
Annoyed, angry, frustrated, irate,
Resentful, bitter, filled with hate
Like you’re the only one that feels.
Fulfilled, happy, content, gratified,
That’s what we see, but they’re dissatisfied,
Like they’re the only ones that feel.
Jagged, open, spiky, broken,
Thinking about words not spoken,
The people around
The old and the wise
The tales that were told
And the truth through the lies
But for the brave and the bold
The faithful that shine
Like the stars high above
All the symbols of our peace
For the lamb and the dove.
The Long Painful Walk
That long painful walk
Through the cold school gates
I cried by myself all the way
And the laughs with my friends
All those years spent in Cree
Turned to tears
As I walked through those doors
The homework we had
That strangled the hours
As the days turned to dark
Then to night
The morning alarm
And the cold winter wind
And that long painful walk
On my own
Every word ever said
From beginning to end
Every story that was told
The laughter and jokes
The thoughts and secrets
That went unsaid or unknown
The friendships that were formed
The alliances and conflicts
The strongest and weakest of bonds
Happiness and tears
Sadness and smiles
All of your hopes, dreams and fears
Come to this place to rest.
How I felt that day
When I thought that all was lost
And I cried
How it wore
Than I could handle
How it changed
How I learned
In the light
We played here as kids,
In this room of dust and ghosts
Listening to stories unravel into fairytale end.
We laughed with such joy
Each day our new toy
Till the world broke open
In our hands.
This room once filled with boundless mirth
The eco of laughter almost still to be heard
These hallowed walls now empty and bear,
Gone from our thoughts,
But never our memories
For they haunt these halls
Lost and Found
The shouts and cries
That echo and rise
The laughs and whispers
That creep through the halls
The joys and the sorrows
That bloom in these wards
The tears of the grieving
The clip chart records
The gentle relief
Of the healed and the saved
The trolley thats wheeled
From the theatre to the grave
Every word every day
The long list of names
Of those who have entered
But never went home
Blood on the floor
And blood on the gowns
Blood that congeals
And gathers in mounds
The kicks of the dying
And the shakes of the scared
The soft whimpered crying
For love that was shared
All those who have entered
All those who have left
The lost and the found
The cursed and the blessed
Are gathering here
Those you love most
And those you hold dear
Katelynn Maloney Honan
The washed up memories
Tied in knots
We wish to keep
What the ocean dreams
Spellbound in our silver streams
To explore the heights
We fear to share
And tread the ground
Where no one dares
The sea’s desire are a mystery
Of wave crashing against the screaming rock
Of the water trickles to the shore
Its dreams are flotsam washed up from the ocean floor
The ocean’s hope
Is the nightmare of men
Is in someone’s imagination
Their thoughts are unknown
Know one will ever know
Jenna Mae O’ Donoghue
Useless posters barely hanging ,
Sounds from out of cheeky mouths
Teachers footsteps walking out
From this teenage slaughterhouse
The screws and nails piercing, banging
Filthy blue tac crudely stuck,
Teachers always moaning, planning
Floor tiles caked in teenage muck
On the floor
The teachers chalk
And spiteful talk
On the walls
The Secrets of Life
What the shadows whisper
Are the secrets of life
Sang soft but linger
A musical type
Shadows whisper the truth
Meaningful and deep
I sat on the floor
Tense and sore
Eyes locked on the screen
Oh what a dream.
CapaldI was gone
But as I scrolled on,
Oh how I cheered.
With a gleam in my eye
And a time limit to abide
I prayed for my fate
Didn’t want to be late.
I clicked and I clicked
And as the time ticked
My purchase was confirmed
And my tummy turned.
Radiant with glee
But no money to be seen
My bankcard was trippin’
And I got a whippin’
If you tell me that you love me
Promise never change your mind
Always keep me company and never testify
Yeah I know it’s been a while
And I never see you smile
If you think that you’re not worth it
I swear I’ll change your mind
You make it hard to breathe
That’s why you never sleep
I know you’ll never tell me
The secrets that you keep
Mothers and Daughters
Mothers and daughters
That skirt is far too high
The fake tan
Looking far too orange.
I’ll tell you love, no lie
I don’t like him
He’s just no good
You stay away from her
The screaming, shouting
It all becomes a blur
I am from everywhere and nowhere,
Born in one place and brought up in another
They ask where are you from? I pause
I simply don’t know I guess the best answer
I am from everywhere and nowhere.
War is so primitive,
Yet so frequent,
It’s like we love the act
Of sending ourselves to our deaths,
And for what,
Some pointless cause,
And we say it’s for freedom,
It’s really for pride
County footballers should get paid.
They put in the effort of showing up for training and work hard at training.
They have jobs and family’s that they can’t give their full attention to
Because they put effort into county football.
They don’t get enough credit for the effort they put in,
They spend countless hours training
And all they get is a bit of fame for close to a year until the next season starts.
They provide a form of entertainment for everyone to watch
And they don’t get enough credit for it.
The GAA could give some of the money earned at matches
And pay them for the work they put in.
They deserve better
The way she plays
The way she sounds
Times we play
In the corner of my room
We shine trough
Bright up lives of people
While making beauty together
Through my lows and ups
We create art
I love my guitar
When looking out at the beautiful landscape of west Clare,
In the green hills of county Clare.
From the top of Mount Callan hill,
I see lovely old Miltown Malbay.
I look across to Quilty bay,
Beside lovely old Miltown Malbay.
I dream of sailing out to Mutton Island
From old Quilty bay.
Haiku – Chicken
With the cold evening
A live, jolly chicken swims
In spite of the fish
Sometimes I zone out and my mind wanders,
Sometimes I look at someone and forget they live their own life,
They have problems but also their pleasures,
They are fighting a world we don’t know about,
We don’t know if they cry or act out,
We don’t know if there in pain or if we can help,
Sometimes we dont know what to do
Or sometimes we ignore the hurt.
A War between Warriors
I have always like soccer
Such a popular game
Such skill required
And hard to play
Giving the signal for the game to start
A war between warriors
With the victor on their minds
With the need of surpassing the goalie
Soccer the beautiful game and passion for the sport.
It’s a game of supreme and all about teamwork and communication
Between the 11 starting players on the field.
I love playing the sport for the adrenaline, energy, and excitement.
Soccer is my life, soccer is where I what I want to be doing,
Soccer gives me my fame around my area.
I have always enjoyed and loved soccer since I was young.
Such skills required, It’s popular and It can be rough,
Especially on those rainy Sunday mornings
And slide tackles be flying in and hard shoulders it’s the best.
You must be strong and fearless to achieving your goal.
I play football. Football is my sport but why does it have to be my sport.
Because I live in a place where only football is accepted.
My entire family are footballers.
In my family, if you are not a footballer is catastrophic,
For if you are not a footballer what are you.
I am good at football and I generally enjoy it most of the time,
But sometimes I ponder on the reason to play football.
It is not a profession; you can’t make money from it like in the NBA or American football,
The only plausible reason for my situation would be to compete.
To compete with family members such as competitive cousins and siblings, friends
And the so called enemy (the other team).
I like to play football but I don’t like to play football just because my family
Or the people around me want me to play football,
I want to play football as a hobby or for myself.
I have separate interests outside of the football world
But to participate in these sports or hobbies would be detrimental for to them
Football is the sport of men.
It was a glorious day on the 22nd of September
Not a cloud in sight
The only bit of excitement was in Miltown Malbay
When Doonbeg took on Éire Óg in a nail biting match.
There were no cars or people in sight in the village
While the match was on
But once everyone came back the village it was rocking
With joy because the Doonbeg senior team are in a county semi-final.
All through my life,
I have heard the phrase a problem shared is a problem halved.
I think this is sometimes very far from the truth.
When I have something getting me down, I try not to tell anyone.
I think that if I tell someone about my problems that they get worse.
I personally would rather suffer in silence
Then have someone tell me I am okay when I think I am not okay.
It makes me feel stupid because I then feel that my problem like me is stupid.
Throughout my life, I have realised on thing.
When I have my own children,
I will never tell them they are okay without hearing them out first.
I feel that if your child is upset there must be something wrong
But if you tell them they’re okay the problem may go away for you
But it won’t go away for them because they will not talk to anyone about it
They will hide it away to keep you happy
Because if you think they are okay they must be okay
I want to stop people from telling their children it’s okay
Because if they don’t feel okay they may harm themselves
Trying to take the pain away.
Art & Writing
I started writing at eleven,
I was never any good at that age but if you write as much as I do you get better.
Every day when I was sick or too scared to go to school,
I sat in my bed and wrote about things that I thought would ever happen to me.
Writing was my escape, writing was building a world that when I fell asleep I could live in.
Lucid dreaming goes hand in hand
When you have imagination pouring out of your ears and into the real world.
I always seem to remember what I’ve written,
I could recite every single idea for a book
I’ve had over the last three years but I can’t remember my eight times tables.
That says a lot about my priorities.
All day every day I had either a page in between my fingers or a pen in my hand.
Art is another thing that drives art, writing and me. It’s my niche.
Art gives me the ability to illustrate the places and things I describe.
Now that I’m older, I have the privilige to showcase my writing for the world to see.
I pour my heart and soul into my writing, when creating my unique characters,
I fall in love all over again, when creating my worlds,
I can’t stop wishing I could live just around the corner.
I want people to feel the same amount of passion
I feel when doing the thing I love and I hope I’m able to accomplish that.
Amber Jade Faulkes
I sit in class
For the long boring 6 hour day
Where I try not to fall asleep
Where I try not to get bored
Out of my brains
The teachers continuously gives out to me
For talking to my friend
For being too loud
For disrupting the class
I like movies
They are cool
They are interesting
Some are funny
Some are scary
And some are about heroes
My favourite is Godzilla because
He is cool looking
Dylan O” Connell
Kebab is my favourite food it always suits my mood.
I will always eat it when ufc is being viewed.
I love the thrill of the fight,
Watching people leave it all out on that night.
There will never be a boring fight
As long as the matchmaking is right.
A knockout is great in heavyweight
Especially when it is a destined faith.
This is the greatest poem and it’s not up for debate.
The Clock Strikes
The clock strikes twelve, a nation is born,
The Gaels take their place in their homeland of Eire,
Bound together by blood, language and culture.
The clock strikes one, a nation is built,
The Gael bound together by blood and culture
Builds her society of systems natural to the gael,
Akin to it in spirit and heart.
The clock strikes two, a nation has flourished,
A faith of the cross has fulfilled the soul
And has bound itself with their past untouched systems,
A civilisation is flourishing; a land of saints and scholars has come.
The clock strikes three; the flourished civilisation is still alive,
A people, bound by blood, history, language and culture,
Fulfilled in her spiritual and material needs,
Stands strong and proud,
What could go wrong thinks the Gael.