Kilkenny Arts Office is delighted to share the ten poems selected by this years Rhyme Rag Editor Colm Keegan. Rhyme Rag workshop’s took place in CBS Kilkenny and Coláiste Abhainn Rí Callan this Spring resulting in beautiful work by some young writers.
All poems can also be found on the Rhyme Rag website and Instagram account over the coming weeks
Blue Happiness
Blue Happiness is my first friend
leaving for her dream college.
Its my brothers thirteenth birthday
and the anniversary of my mother being cancer free.
Its packing a suitcase,
and the smell of my old perfume.
The confidence boost of using retinol,
evident in the mannerisms of all the older women in my life.
Its putting on makeup,
and my teachers praising me for being so well behaved.
My favourite song playing on the car radio,
relatives saying I’ve grown so big.
The pleasant conversation
filling the silence after an argument.
Each one of these happy moments,
tainted
by that familiar blue feeling
that somehow manages to sneak its way in every time.
The feeling of being happy,
but sad, all at once.
By Daisy Carroll
Growing Pains
I cannot remember exactly when she went away. When she got lost.
Her brightly coloured scribbles on the walls were coated with a fresh coat of paint and I grew out of all the clothes she used to wear.
At first I did not miss her, or perhaps I did not really know she was gone, too focused on the future to reflect upon the past.
I cannot remember precisely when I first felt her absence. Perhaps when I saw the friends she once had change and leave me behind. Perhaps it was the first time I ever felt unsure of myself.
When unfamiliar feelings planted themselves between my lungs, I could not help but envy the girl ignorant to all but the dreams in her head.
I knew I could not bring her back and even if I could I would not want to. She will always be fearless and untameable, blessed with naivety and excitement. She will remain a memory, a fragment of time.
Yet sometimes I find it hard to believe she is gone for I see her everywhere I go.
I see her in grazed knees bandaged with pink plasters, in grass-stained books and wild daisies.
I see her in tea parties with teddy bears and pretend cakes.
When I look into the mirror, I recognise her within the person I see.
She did not go away, she is still there,
She is the girl I was and will always be.
by Ali Bryan
My Grandmothers Home
A long scenic lane,
Filled with flowers and forestry,
A white semi-detached cottage,
With yellow window sills
and an old-style brown door,
Beautiful flowers and plants
placed all around the grove,
Big stables with Connemara horses and donkeys,
Birds chirping all around in the trees,
And peter the pig rolling around
in the mud in the small paddocks,
Long walks with the dogs as the sun sets,
A weight off your shoulders,
A place to forget you troubles,
My paradise.
By Erin Keating
Stranger Again
It was meant to be a New Year
New beginnings for us
First few days were so bright
Then suddenly it turned so dark
I hadn’t expected such a rapid change
Whatever I tried
It just wouldn’t slide
And before I knew it
I was just a stranger again.
By Thomas Deegan
Schoolbag
As I’m thrown to the bedroom floor,
I wonder why I’m treated so badly?
From the mashed, mouldy banana
to the three day old sandwich
buried in my depths,
to the dog eared books
and chewed pencils
scattered in all my pockets.
Why am I hated?
I have scars all over me,
a result of years of being dragged,
kicked, thrown and shoved
just to be cruelly stitched
back together again
to keep me going for what
my supposed friend calls the “school year”.
Why am I disliked?
Is it because I spend most of my time
in the place they despised
or the memories woven into my seams.
By Lia Butler
Womp Womp
As someone’s born
As someone dies
People are torn
People tell lies
Winter truly is a dark mime
Although love is shared
Friends drop by all the time
to show they cared
We go by drinking
and singing
And trying not to cling
So we bring
People who’ve cried
For those that died
By Robert Deacon
The Cinema
A place we go to escape our reality
Where we watch stories unfold on the big screen
You could see a man fall to the depths of insanity
But when the lights turn on we ponder “What did it mean”.
We ask ourselves what the film was trying to say
Perhaps that life’s only worth living if spent with others
Or maybe we can’t leave what’s important for another day
Or maybe we should say “I love you” to our mothers.
In my opinion filmmaking’s an honourable craft
As it provides millions of people with enjoyment
And similar to some one stranded seeing a life raft
A film could end a suffering person’s torment.
By Zach Power
The Sand
The sand of a billion years old
Gathered in my shoes
“Here lie creatures of which I was never told:
Forgotten ancient species”, I muse
Old beings died and fell
And sunk down to the sea bed
They washed up with the swell
Right to where I treasure
I looked up at the sunny weather
Waves continued to crash, forever
By Hugh O’Connell
The Pact
His arms tired of lifting,
“That’s seven, three more!”
Even through heavy breathing,
He could still hear his mate’s roar
As he put back up the weights,
His friend recited their pact,
“So let’s get one thing straight,
Don’t you dare ever hold back”
One hundred and sixty nine,
a new PR for his squat,
All that weight on his spine,
ended in a snap, a crack and a pop
By the medics he was lifted,
His only thought was their pact,
He should not have listened,
He should have held back
He festered greed like a fool,
he knew even years later,
“How could I have been such a tool?”
as he wheeled round in his chair
Even years later, all he could think about was that same pact,
“So let’s get one thing straight, don’t you dare ever hold back”
By Brendan Pretorius
The deck of Cards (the club and diamond)
The two frowning men,
with their unkempt stubble,
sooty hands and silent postures
looked on in blackness at the young prince,
as he strutted across the village square,
flanked by gruff guards with pointy spikes.
One whispered something in the others ear
and he smiled with skulduggery.
The young prince with his chest puffed wide
continued to boast around his square,
and as he passed the men
they were now grinning even more broadly.
The prince now looked puzzled as their gaze fell on him,
and continued to parade along, but this time with less convictions.
By Anonymous
