Poetry Winners Booklet 2015

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National Write a Poem Competition Prize-‐giving

2015

Laois Education Centre

Wednesday, 30th September

www.pdst . ie

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Contents

Page

Table of Contents 03

Foreword 04

In the House of a Dying Man – Caoimhe Devaney 05

Leather Football – Jonathon Johnston 06

Where am I? – Cian Donlan 07

Spilled Ink – Danielle Ní Mhoráin 08

Our Generation – Serena Dervishi 09

Senior Cycle – Minja MacLennan 10

I am the Air-‐Maker – Aaliyah Onalimi 11

All Eyes on Her – Louise Evans 12

A Poem about a Friend – Aidan Crilly 13

August – Maria Cullen 14

Requiem – James Cox 15

Apology Note – Úna Faller 16

His First Flight – Eli Byrne 17

Religion, They Said, That’s Why They Did It – Isabel Quinn

Standing at the Crossroads – Kim Chan

The Hair-‐Raising Reasons of the Late Student –

Matthew Hamer

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The Major at War – Anna Ní Dhubhchonna

Together – Orla McDonagh

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Wonder – Ruth Guildea 23

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Foreword

The English Team, PDST, is delighted to take this opportunity to celebrate the wonderful achievements of our students and teachers in the 2015 National Poetry Competition. We received over seven hundred entries from schools all around the country, and it was exceptionally difficult to choose the winning poems from so many fantastic entries. We were really impressed by the standard set by the students. It was obvious to us that they put a lot of thought and effort into their work and we hope that they continue to write more poetry, and to make continued submissions to the magazine in the future. We would like to thank all the teachers involved, for the giving of their time, guidance and enthusiasm to these young writers, in encouraging them to embark on their creative journey. We would also like to thank Poetry Ireland for their contribution, and a special thanks to Margaret Mary Grant in Laois Education Centre for all her work in ensuring the success of this year’s competition.

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words -‐ Robert Frost.

The English Team, PDST (Selena Wilkes, Claire Matthews, Amy Kilcline, Marie Clynes, Christina Clarke)

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1st Place – Senior

In the House of a Dying Man Fourteen separate pills A chemical odyssey, We sit and watch mutely As he swallows each one. The morphine is small and rounded The colour of blood and milk-‐coffee. Rain blurs the window, The dying man speaks, and we listen It takes three or four sentences To thread sense on his words. I have been here before; Another dying man's house Where amber chemotherapy Dripped down from the ceiling. I saw the months slowly shave All the meat from his bones. But that man is dead now, I have seen him; His features swimming beneath His children's grief-‐coloured faces. Time is strange in this house; Nostalgia rattles in the radiators, A half-‐unspoken ending Ricochets in the hallways. Outside, a plywood wheelchair ramp Shines dull red in the rain. All the family are here; A whispering diaspora, Always on the verge of Either laughter or tears. Caoimhe Devaney Holy Child Secondary School Military Road, Killiney, Co. Dublin.

In the back room they talk business, Atheist funerals and solicitors, While I watch the rain and think of when I knew no man who was dead. Now I can only just keep them On the fingers of one hand. They said he would die quickly The kind of quick that's not instant, The kind of quick that takes weeks Weeks of half-‐muffled pain.

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1st Place – Junior

Leather Football Am I kicked, Beaten, Crushed And trampled? Or, Am I strong, Resilient, Determined And undeterred? I am both. I am proof That, with so little, We can do so much. I am proof That pleasures are simple, Yet enduring.

Jonathon Johnston Dundalk Grammar School The Crescent, Dundalk, Co. Louth.

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2nd Place – Senior

Where am I? I'm on my way home. I take the short cut through the field as I always do. I'm walking through dead grass. It's dark. I look up. Clear skies. I see countless bright lights peering in at me from outside our atmosphere, I can’t help but let my mind wander the cosmos. That’s what we look like, Another faint dot on an infinitely big, blacker than black canvas, I wonder if the stars look back and think the same thing. Can they see our dot? Do they know we exist? Do they know our struggles, our triumphs? Our heroes, our villains? Our freedom-‐driven revolutionaries, our oppressive dictators? Our saints, our sinners? Our moments of joy, our times of darkness? Our children, our scientists, our passion, our weaknesses? Do they see what we are? Who we were? What we’ll become? Everyone you ever knew, and ever will know, Those you love, you hate, those you fear, Everyone you make smile, you laugh with, Everyone you share your life with, Lived their lives on this small blue-‐ish dot. In a sea of dots. In a sea of seas. That’s home. I look back down to the ground, Where the hell am I? Cian Donlan Donabate Community College Portrane Road, Donabate, Co. Dublin.

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2nd Place – Junior

Spilled Ink Spilled ink runs through my veins, as I devour another verse A subtle taste of word champagne and suddenly I'm hooked. A paragraph, like heroin, A novel, like crack cocaine. A library, like an alleyway an addiction to be restrained.

Between the chapters of a book. The only world, I’m free, to forget this earth, and all its sin, and how it all could be. Each book is like a soul, composed of wishes, hopes and dreams. So maybe that's a reason why poetry is in my genes. Danielle Ní Mhóráin Gaelcholáiste Ceatharlach Askea, Carlow, Co. Carlow.

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Joint 3rd Place – Senior

Our Generation

Bombarded thoughts of wild delusions, Spread their arms to vile conclusions.

Hasty decisions caused despair, Hatred, revenge and no repair.

Dead, cold eyes stare in awe,

They tempt the neck to the devil’s saw. Mentality has lost our reach to vitality, Deep in the caves of our humanity.

To succeed and crash like all the rest, Preludes the chance to be the best.

The valour and power flooding in our blood, Has drained the brain with life’s black mud.

All who live, live to die,

Both the rich and those who try. Has work closed our eyes from life?

While taking friends and family by knife.

Enemies that lurk in the shadows of me, Are blinded bats with no place to be. Miming behind with no words to say,

Welcome to the society of our generation today.

Serena Dervishi St. Michael’s Holy Faith Finglas, Dublin 11.

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Joint 3rd Place – Senior

Senior Cycle 334 days; 2338hours; 140,280 minutes. Take a minute To check, For how long senior cycle Held you by the neck; And asked of you more than you had to give. Live. ‘Life isn’t all about the Leaving Cert.’ But failure hurt, So you worked hard all the same Upped your game; For credit that didn’t really count, To count Your points at the end of the year. 5 points short. 10 points short. No one belongs here. Here; A playground where even big kids get bullied. Was it worth Your time? Was it worth mine? 1008 minutes, Spent Doing homework Bent Over desks; Wilted flowers Passing the hours Until summer. 300 late nights, Cramming. Slamming Exhausted heads into the cover of a book; Take a closer look. Minja MacLennan St. Leo’s College Old Dublin Road, Carlow, Co. Carlow.

Dreams of Martin Luther King, Solving Algebraic expressions. Economic depressions. Therapy sessions. All of this makes sense? What is the conditional tense? If you would, If you could. What would you do? Senior cycle, Water cycle; Cycle. Walk. Run. Be free. But not too free, Everything has a price. Be nice. But not too nice, Because then you’re weird. Stand up, Stand out. But watch your back; Break the rules And they’ll break You. Make no mistake. They’ll ensure your best, Is never quite Good enough; Insist there’s fight Left in you yet. Students. Soldiers. It’s all the same; All a part of the same sick game: Shape up or ship out. Are you in or are you out? One strike; Two strike; Three.

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3rd Place – Junior

I Am the Air-‐Maker

At first, their voices echo across the fields, then suddenly, I see them coming, running closer and closer to me,

I look around knowing that there is no escape, I creak and twist but to no avail, I am fastened in,

rooted to this place.

They jump on me, I shudder with their weight as they sit on me, they pull at my arms, tearing my skin,

not knowing the pain I suffer, I plead with them to stop,

groaning and whispering, swaying with tiredness, I have no escape until hours later,

when they run home and leave me shaken.

Winter comes, I grow cold and colder still, wondering why! The icy cold unending, my gnarled barren arms,

bending and cracking, pleading for someone to help me, but no one comes to my aid… I stand alone.

As always, the winter chill freezes me to the core.

The sun returns, bright yet distant as I begin to thaw. My hair slowly grows back again,

as warm breezes blow gently against my skin. I help them, giving them air,

yet it's never enough, they cut down my friends,

turn us into something they sit on, use us to create artificial leaves of paper,

haven’t they seen how beautiful our leaves are, like emeralds glistening in the morning dew…

Beauty lost in their sea of greed… And it starts again, sitting on us, tearing our skin,

never letting us rest. Aaliyah Onalimi Scoil Chríost Rí Portlaoise, Co. Laois.

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Highly Commended – Senior

All Eyes on Her

All eyes on her, she enters the lobby.

Bell boys swoon at the sight. The foyer rumbles,

the chandelier glistens all eyes on her.

She floats along

her gown made of gold, Chanel No.5 consumes the air.

Guests mingle,

champagne pours glasses raised

to the best hotel in Chicago. The Ball room opens,

The sound of music is heard the Ball has begun. Her mask is on she enters.

All eyes on her.

Louise Evans Donabate Community College Portrane Road, Donabate, Co. Dublin.

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A Poem about a Friend Ignorant Isis, oblivious friend Unaware of the many years left until she meets her end Captivated by her own irrelevant plights Their next few years are strung up on pedestals Draining the drama from banal, bland inconsequential struggles Up and down, the joys and loathing muddle What a way to live Is it not the best? The great issues of the world thrown away in zest While the miniscule narcissistic personal moments are made magic by the mind Teenage worries occupying all your time These dramas are the greatest she will ever know Shakespeare in her heart, Kavanagh in her soul Why bother with reality, banal and boring Where beauty is but temporary and there is only pursuit of bliss When you can live within yourself not simply exist? Carnal pleasures and infatuations given great grandeur and love Small strife and struggles mean ceasing the flow of blood Quick lived romances extinguished buried is asphodel and short happy summers, Models of nirvana and life without tragedy Which is the greater muse? The dramatic mind or the bromidic reality Though I prefer my books fictitious and well written The drama of vain, wild minds is a personal addiction My dramas are dull and dainty compared To these hyperbole people So let them worry and rejoice while I watch as a bird perched on a steeple. Aidan Crilly Cabinteely Community School Johnstown Road, Cabinteely, Dublin 18.

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August Absence makes the heart grow fonder, So I have been told, I whisper in the ear of August so she’ll be consoled. And so it is the lack of sun Can freeze the hearts of men, Hold your breath, In ten more months You’ll taste reunion then. With nerves of steel And girded loins She bade goodbye to spring, But none foresaw the horror That the winter months would bring. Temper storms of thunder ripped Her fragile stems apart, And wind destroyed her children Until mould grew on her heart. All those who speak of anguish Must have never seen the night, When all that’s green is frozen, And the cold chokes every life. And all those who speak of longing Must have never heard the tears, As the Spring weeps for her lifeblood, And the snow confirms her fears. There are months of frost and longing Until justice can be done, Until grass pokes through the snow drifts And the Spring and warmth are one. Maria Cullen Loreto Secondary School Spawell Road, Wexford, Co. Wexford.

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Requiem Under an adamant ashen sky; The mourners stood, braced Against the unyielding shower And the priest’s solemn, resonating tone. Encircling the grave, condolences are Shared, red roses cast into the darkness, Resting upon the pine box, covered with earth In the hope they rise again. In the morning mist, they endured the Elements, the rain relentless And lamenting, as though heaven itself Was weeping in solidarity. With sobs echoing through the twilight, A melancholy music and tears attributed To the life once lived.

James Cox Clonakilty Community College Clonakilty, Co. Cork.

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Highly Commended – Junior

Apology Note

come into my arms little child

the war is over

and you have made it home

the monsters under the bed have been locked out of your head

and love and acceptance have melted the key

come into my arms

little child

the steep climb is over and the lanterns have been lit the demons in your shadow

have been burnt

by joy and curiosity and I will never let them in

again.

Úna Faller Athlone Community College Retreat Road, Athlone, Co. Westmeath.

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His First Flight (Inspired by ‘His First Flight’, by Liam O’ Flaherty) Vast… …Is the expanse that lies before me, With its unforgiving waves Billowing like The blue folds of an infinite cloak. Cold… …Is the water sprayed upon me, As the sea mocks I am tormented By myself, as fear of mine is of The chasmic abyss below. Outcast… …Am I who cannot equal them, One’s family is his comfort not To be those who scorn and upbraid, As they tame winds and I wallow in cowardice. Jagged… …Are the rocks I stand upon, Not far from the beckoning precipice, Sudden and sheer And the crushing waves below that devour all. Infatuated… …Am I with the crimson sun’s ascent, It mirrors my ambitions, though Dreams seldom fulfil the desires Of the soul they cruelly taunt. Starvation… …Is upon I who linger between Sleep and wakefulness; I the Ruination of this family could But now die, in my weary gentle gloom. Substance… …Becomes my mother’s shadow, As she brings my salvation. Fish and sustenance is a luxury To the hunger-‐filled and helpless. Unwavering… …Is my mother as she Hovers smoothly in the air, eyes Fixed upon me, who is now leaping Towards her, hunger displacing fear.

Plunging… …Fast am I towards my watery demise, Deceived by my mother who has Betrayed me, the abomination. Emotion overcomes me suddenly…but… …Soaring… …Am I whose wings spread wide and Mighty, conquering the elements, Evading below those that Seek to inflict wound upon me. Redeemed… …And praised I have become, I now treasure acceptance, I The champion of my terrors, Master of my first flight.

Eli Byrne FCJ Secondary School Bunclody, Co. Wexford.

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Religion, They Said, That’s Why They Did It

The room was painted white, The walls to the floor a ghostly colour.

My mother holding me, While they pushed and shoved.

The fathers cried out, The mothers wept,

And the children clung to their parents like a limpet does a rock. No man nor woman could ease the tension,

As the doors were bolted, And the men in uniform left the room.

Silence,

An eternity spent hoping that this was not the end, That there was another way,

To pass from this world, to the next.

A cloud appeared, It entered the room almost magically.

Its wispy white colour Almost resembled a fairy's light wings.

It danced over the men and women dipping slightly for the children. As it passed over their heads, something left them,

Their life, I suppose. They coughed and spluttered then they just fell to the ground, Like a toy after its owner moved on to another amusement.

I watched with wonder as the cloud, Murdered all those families.

Soon it flew over me, My mother with a look of horror on her face.

As she and I coughed and spluttered, Just like the others.

Then fell to the floor. Dead. Like a limp rag.

I knew why they did it, Religion they said.

It's what they said separated us, From living or dying.

But why take the children? Whose lives not yet lived,

Innocence not yet stripped away.

Religion they said, That's why they did it.

Isabel Quinn Santa Sabina Dominican College Sutton, Dublin 13.

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Standing at the Crossroads (Inspired by ‘The Road Not Taken’, by Robert Frost) I stand, at this time at a crossroads, To be someone who follows expectation, Or choose to be someone who stands on her own two feet, And sorry, I cannot travel both, But must choose the path which is right for me. Down one path, I see a crowd, There, I am amongst them. Belonging. This is the road I wish to go down, To feel as if I, too, am part of something, To be among the chatter and laughing, all day round. The other I know is yearning for me, Begging for announce of my attention, The road I have ignored all my life, Resulting in time wasted and fountains of tears, All of which will push me to strive. But I still stand here, at a crossroads, To be someone who follows expectation, Or chooses to stand here on her own two feet, So telling this with a lighted heart, I now know the fate, I one day hope to meet. To be someone who stands on her own two feet, Amongst a crowd of those who she loves, With friends, brothers and parents, And the drive to do well in the future, That for me will make all the difference.

Kim Chan Coláiste na Toirbhirte Ard Oaibhinn, Bandon, Co. Cork.

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The Hair-‐Raising Reasons of the Late Student

I shall explain my lateness sir, The reason of it is,

While driving to school this foggy day, We were hopelessly lost in the mist.

Aliens attacked our homestead, An asteroid destroyed our roof.

We were pestered by an irritating drunkard And a deranged little goof.

A tidal wave wrecked our garden,

Vandals vandalized our car. For three and a half hours we searched for my father,

He had never returned from the bar.

The road was pitted and potholed, Our car plummeted through a ravine.

Several of us had a gas attack Because my brother had eaten baked beans.

Our dog chased after E.T.,

And was dog-‐napped by UFOs, But the actual reason why I’m late today

Is because I’m just way too slow.

Matthew Hamer St. Augustine’s College Abbeyside, Dungarvan, Co. Waterford.

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The Major at War (Inspired by ‘Base Details’, by Siegfried Sassoon) Everyone thinks it’s so easy for me To give out orders as if they were free. But with my job, that I do quite well Comes with a conscience that resembles hell. Last week for example, was particularly bad We lost fifteen of the best men we’ve ever had. The enemy guns wiped them out like the blight When I heard I knew I wouldn’t get much sleep that night. When I think of the parents, children and wives And everyone else in these brave young men’s lives. That sit there grieving and heartbroken, bereft of their joy I think I’d be better off in heaven with those poor young boys. Anna Ní Dhubhchonna Gaelcholáiste Ceatharlach Askea, Carlow, Co. Carlow.

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Together

Together we step out into the arena In perfect harmony, In perfect rhythm.

Going over the course in our heads We focus in on the first fence

Everything else is a blur Our minds are clear

Counting down the strides All sounds have vanished We are completely one.

We inhale at liftoff Gliding through the air

His hooves Graze the barrier

The sound echoes through our heads Is it the sound of victory or defeat?

We stretch forward, Over the fence,

Exhaling as we land. Our hearts beat as one

The blood roars in our ears Roar of the crowd

We did it.

Orla McDonagh Presentation De La Salle Bagenalstown Secondary School Bagenalstown, Co. Carlow

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Wonder Her mother threaded Wonder into her hair, To forever dream -‐ Of wonder in the air. Her mother weaved Cheer into her tongue, To endlessly sing -‐ And feel joy in each lung. Her mother laced Laughter into her hands, To eternally smile -‐ Whenever she danced. Her mother knitted Passion into her heart, To always feel -‐ Her love when they were apart. Her father did not agree, So he cursed his daughter And what was to be. Her father bled Hate into her veins, To evermore be -‐ Shackled in skin chains. Her father beat Anger into her face To never be looked upon -‐ Without disgrace. Her parents crushed Her into shattered bone, To perpetually live -‐ Under an engraved stone.

Ruth Guildea Loreto Secondary School Balbriggan, Co. Dublin.

Poetry Winners Booklet 2015

Education

Transcript of Poetry Winners Booklet 2015