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  Writing from St Colman's College

Writing from Newry, Northern Ireland

News reports from cold places | Poems | A day in the life of a chocolate bar

My Search

By Ciaran, 15

I have lost you
I do not know when you are
I have searched for your embrace
I have searched for your face

Down long corridors I have walked, always walking
Only to hear your footsteps up ahead
I have searched behind many doors
Only to hear of your departure

Into the valley I have gone
Searching for your smile
Only to reach out and miss your hand of guidance
I do not know where you are

I have climbed many mountains
I have searched many woods
I thought I had found you
But no I found only memories

Yet still I searched
Then I came upon a door I had not yet seen
I opened the door to black clothes, blank faces and weeping
O was then drawn towards the corner

In the corner was a coffin
I boldly strode forward for surely I found you
I looked in your cage and save you
Or so I thought

For I knew that this was not you
But only a memory of your passing

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By Jack, 15

I sit here waiting, waiting
Waiting for something that I know
Is not coming back
For days I daze out the windows in hope
That I will see him walking towards me again

My uncle who had died
Only a few years ago was a key figure in my life
A guy that made me laugh
And showed me the philosophical
Way to life

In the hours of wait I think
Of the times we spent together
Times of wait fly-by
Season by season
But I know he is happier now after
His years of suffering have ended

His last few years were one of hell
Having to watch the world and life fly by
As if you are
Standing still

Once his suffering ended the
Bells of the Angelus rang
Though I still wait in the hop of a,
Triumphant return

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By Jack, 15

“Kathy”, I said as we boarded
A greyhound in Pittsburgh
“I don’t know where I’m running to”
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and walked off, walked off to lool
For America

Laying low, seeking out
The poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Lookin’ for the places
Only they would know

Laughin’ on the bus, playin’
Games with the faces
Kathy said she was driftin’ off to sleep
I said “next stop’s just around the corner”
And she drifted off to look for America

Askin’ only workman’s wages
I came lookin’ for a joy but I get no offers
Jus a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue
Kathy covered my eyes and we ran off to look for America

“Jack I’m lost”, she said and
I knew she was worried
“I’m empty and aching and I don’t know why”
“Don’t worry” I said, “next stop’s just around the corner”
And we wondered off to look for America

“Oh my grace I got no hiding place”.

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Walking on Broken Glass

By Stephen, 15

Sixty years have passed, each day bringing with it a chill
Shattered memories, scattered like corn on a field

Anything becomes reality
The feel of grass underfoot, winds on my face
I see myself soaring high, discovering the depths of the deep
A missed material, a chocolate castle
Anything becomes a reality, this is my dream

Troubled times, of which I know naught
Seemed so far away from me
As I climbed the highest tower
And slew the mighty dragon
But like so many times before, I know it must end

It began with the darkening
As shadows stretched their clawed hands over all
I fell from my lofty reprieve
And the chocolate turned to ash
I saw the sneering snarl and the cracked cross
He controlled all; it ceased to be my dream

I land with a thud all is still dark
A familiar voice cries out, so distant
I arise again, unwounded from my fall
Shadows move about me, shadows not unknown
A chill breath hits my face, freezes me to the bone
My dream has become a spiralling nightmare
One filled only with blindness and terror

But then the rolls reverse
And I become the damsel
Whisked away
From the claws of an unprecedented hatred
Tucked under the wing of a great bird
Safe as sound, but why the need?

With a rumble, love was taken from me
My shattered heart only compared
To the breaking of glass upon that night
And my deep thoughts of slumber, became reality

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The lost Sailor

By Brian, 15

The boy sits at the window looking out to sea
He goes outside looks down at the cliff
The wind whistles, but he listens, and waits
He waits for something he knows will never come

The boy starts to cry
He remembers the night perfectly
He was only five
He looked down to sea all night with this mum
But he never came

That night the wind lashed his windows
The wind blew threw the house
He sleeps in turmoil rocking back and forth
Wondering when he will come home

Now the boy is grown up
He hasn’t forgotten about that night
He still goes to the cliff
But he never sees him

The paid he feels is deep inside
He feels lonely and forgotten
Tired of waiting he leaves
Knowing he can’t hold on to the past

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By Tommy, 15

I loved and lost you
Mother of my father
I lost you to an illness

Disease ridden for years
Over a decade of torture
Yet I was oblivious to all at first

When the news broke my bubble burst
What was this strange illness?
It couldn’t have been serious of course

She was always so strong
The diagnosis must have been wrong
Do they know not what she means to me?

No understanding was there to be from me
This shouldn’t have been happening
Disappointed faces were clear to see

Never did she seem ill or old
To me this news she should never have been told
The degrading torture to a wonderful woman

As the priest once said, “how were you to tell her?
You are losing your mins?”
Such inhumane acts on any person
Her last few years reduced to a hard, hard grind

Loved by many, hated by none
Her charitable deeds no longer to be done
The love of many she had won

The strain of grief on the family again
A human no more, yet an angel she will be
She has left her mark for many to see

She hated no-one and this was clear
My father now lost for a mother
Rest in peace, no more worries dear

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On the Banks of the Volga

By Daire, 15

As the grinding metal made him cringe
The futility of his fight became apparent
His friends falling, his foes flawless
The allied puch was falling back

Strafed and shot and shelled and bombed
Those brave men fought and fell by the Volga
They fought for what? A mass of rubble
This bomber out city was to change the world

Their blood poured on that baron waste land
The reds lost thousands, the Wehrmacht alike
The fascist onslaught to the east
Resulted in nothing but defeat

Millions shot, froze or starved
To fill the conquest of one man

From high above and on the field
The Nazi onslaught finally ceased
By ’45 the fight was done
And hell was dealt out all their souls
Those who paid the ultimate price
And gave their life in the glorious fight
And those whose slumber with be uncalm
By the memories of war
And its damage to man

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Crying Shame

By Ben, 15

“Come here my son”, he used to whisper in my ear
Whilst slipping me a pound and give me a wink of wrinkled eye
As if it were a great secret, hiding it from the world
He carefully placed it in my hand with a warm touch

This the only lasting of him that I can re-collect vividly
I have been thieved from time to time
Shamefully, as she’s ticked on, the less I think and remember him
Which I long to recall but know I never will

God, I miss the days hen he’d been sleeping but caught me in
The corner of his eye; slowly lifting, his head would light the room
With his welcoming grin again

Tragically I remember the day I heard the horrific news
Everyone was awkwardly silent and still; therefore I knew my father
Was the bearer of bad news when he approached me and took me aside
I felt pain and anguish as if my soul was being wrenched out from
Beneath my skin, when my head was filled with words I did not
Wish to hear but nevertheless, were quite inevitable

But why did I have to be deprived of my only Grandfather
I’d known of others who’d suffered such losses, But I?
I’d always know he’d been secluded from most of his family
but not my life!

As as I stand over his grave today, I don’t feel mournful or ever
Grief as these were robbed of me from the negligence of the world
I’m now numb to such emotions
But, instead I feel repentance for mankind

It’s a crying shame it took the death of my beloved Grandfather until,
I realised how brutally immoral the earth is.

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©2003-2011 Kids on the Net and the authors        Last revised 09-Jul-2011
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