Competition Results
posted on June 8th, 2007
Editors Heather Brett and Noel Monahan offer you the winners of their 2007 annual poetry competition.
Junior Category
Giving Voice
Haikus
No sky and no earth
At all. Only the snowflakes
Fall incessantly.Through the town’s centre
A little stream flows, bordered
By weeping willows.On the temple bell
Something rest’s in quiet sleep
Look - a butterfly.Snow having melted
The whole village is brimful
Of happy children
Moeed Malik (age 12)
Farnham NS
Ist Place Junior Category
My Daddy The Post-ManMy daddy is a postman
He delivers all the mail
He’s always there to deliver
Whenever its rain, snow or hailIt keeps him very busy
He works from day to night
He used to have a green van
But now its turned to white.He visits all the elderly
That live all on their own
He says hello to them every day
So they won’t feel all aloneMy daddy is a postman
He wears a uniform
He’s a fhearr an phoist go hiontach
An fhearr an phoist from MullahoranAimee Coyle (age 10)
Mullahoran NS
2nd Place Junior Category
Leaking and Seeping
Water drips and water drops
It comes from clouds in great big plopsWater splashes and water clashes
upon the sea shore rocks it lashesWater pours and water spills
From leaking spouts over window sills.Water freshens and water soaks
It seeps right through all hats and cloaksMatthew Mc Kenna (age 10)
Corlurgan NS
Joint 3rd Place Junior Category
Fishing
Fishing is my pastime
A whole afternoon of peace
In the evening sunset
My catch to increaseAs night falls my mam calls
And I gather up my bag
Homeward bound my dog at heel
Looking forward to a tasty mealPan is on the fire
Trout is my desire
Full and contented
My fishing day is endedPhilip Bogue (age 10)
Corlurgan
Joint 3rd Place Junior Category
Irish Category
Nóinín I Measc ná neantóg,
Is tú mo nóinín, mo nóinín beag álainn,
Ansin I measc na neantóg, ag fás ar son do shaol,
Mo nóinín beag bán ag sileadh solais ó gach spóir,
Do cumhra láidir milis, ag cur daoine ar do thóir.Ach is mo nóinín atá tú, liomsa atá tú gafa,
Mar tá mo ghrá níos láidre ná nimh na neantóige,
Seasann tú amach i slua, ar nós inis ar an muir,
Mar is mo nóinín thú, go deireadh ár shaol.
Cathal Mac an Fhailigh (age 17)
St Macartans College
Joint Ist Place Irish Category
Mo Chlann
Tá chlann mó agam, tá naonúr daoine ann.
Tá áthas an domhain orm, le mo chlann.
Seo é Dhaidí, is dochtiur é
Ainm mo chlann é ‘Pop, I mo theach is fear mór é!
Seo í Mhamaí, ar fad tá gliondar uirthi
Nuair a tá sí ag scuab an urlar, bíonn ag canadh
Agus ‘Mutti’ is aimi di.
Seo í Danielle, is maith léi díoscó
Is í mo dheirfiúir tiarnasach,isí mo dheirfiúir is mó!
Seo í William, bionn sé ag imirt spórt
Ma bhíonn sé ar irraidh, feicfidh mé é ar an bpáirc.
Seo í Fára, go brách bíonn sí ag canadh,
Uaireanta, tá sí craiceailte agus dána!
Seo í Rebecca, tógann sí a am
Agus is maith léi a lán ‘lip-balm’!
Seo é Louis, níl se éirmiúil
Ach nuair a bhíonn sé ag imirt peil, scórann sé cúl!
Seo é Jonathan, is a leasainn Jon-Jon
Is maith leis Caitlín, beidh mé I mo uachtarán lá amháin
Is maith liom leadóg, agus is maith liom mo chlann!Caitlín Courtney (age 12)
St Clare’s NS Cavan
Joint 1st Place Irish Category
An Bosca
Is bosca suimiúil beaga é
Ar ndóigh a héachaim air
Ó mhaidin go deireadh an lae.Tá leisce orm an bosca a fhagáil
Ganaon agó, táim gafa leis,
Na fuimeanna, na h-omhanna atá ar fáil.Anois is arís,
Is feidir liom a samhlú
An abhar nua scoile - an téilifís.N’fheadair cad a bhíonn ar súil
Í mbosca beag,
A chuireann fonn orm a stanadh air ach an
Taaitneamh sáiniúil.Celia Ho (age 16)
Loreto College
2nd Place Irish Category
An Caisleán
I bhfad ar shiúl,
Tá caisleán ann,
Le banríon, príonsa
‘Is daoine eile sa chlann.Tá dragún mór, feargach
Mar gharda don doras.
Ta giollaí ‘is draoi,
‘Is cócaire darbainm Floras.Tá crann draíochta
Sa ghairdín ollmhór.
Tá caráiste bándearg
Faoi stiúir ag chauffeur.Táloch le harrachachtaí,
Doras le sleamhnán ag teacht as.
Droichead le hardaitheoirí
‘Is fear grinn ag imirt cleas.Blánaid Ní Mhordha Ní Lionaird (age 12)
Gaelscoil Eois, Clones
3rd Place Irish Category
Senior Category
War
Stinging sores,
bloodshot eyes,
bombs booming,
fatal cries.Crackling fire,
deafened ears.
Faces washed
With salty tears.Choking gasses,
wheezing for air.
Reapers roaming
it’s hard to bear.Flooded trenches,
bodies bloodied.
Lost arms and legs,
faces muddied.Shells falling,
guns firing.
Fingers tangled
in jagged wiring.A banshee wails
just behind.
Under tanks,
bones grind.It scares me to think
that I hold guns,
yet, look at the dead,
they’re the lucky ones.Aodhán McGourty (age 13)
Coláiste Cholmcille, Ballyshannon
1st Place Senior Category
Starlings
It’s evening, late Autumn, when the starlings start their show,
In gathering flocks of whooshing wings, they congregate
Until they seem joined wingtip to wingtip.
Like ariel sardines, evading the cavernous mouth
Of an invisible humpback, they twist and turn
In changing patterns of light.
Then as night falls, they disappear to the lakeshore
To roost in ash, sycamore and oak.
As I’m watching this I wonder how, in this wonderful dance of nature
In their chasing, weaving, climbing, diving, soaring, sweeping flight
They never collide or fall to the ground, injured, stunned or dead.Cormac O’ Connell (age 12)
Virginia College, Cavan
2nd Place Senior Category
Tears
Like all of the others, she bent her head.
I watched from across the gaping hole
That was between usLying open and empty,
Waiting to be filled.A tear escaped from
Between the barrier of her lashes,
Ran slowly down her noseAnd dripped off it,
Onto the ground.There was a background
Sound of footsteps, dragging
Along the gravel path, heavily.Then all was quiet,
A muffled thump.The coffin hit the floor
Of the empty grave,
Empty no more.I remember it clearly,
Etched forever in my mind.The girl crying,
The dirt falling,
Tears falling.Memories being made,
Tears…Conor Fox (age 15)
St Clare’s College, Ballyjamesduff, Cavan
3rd Place Senior Category
Adult Category
A Tradition(Three Donegal weaver brothers)
Weft woven across the width of each day.
Shuttle passed through warp yarns
that heave solitude,as hills change from greenwood to gorse,
to heather hues, brown,
and the valley shadows, deepens
to midnight blue.The brothers know the curves and hollows
of the land, know about wool twill,
threading sequences, spools and shots
of colour, loom tunes, the signature
of a treadling foot dance, the sound
of silence. They know the smell and feel
of earth and foggy nights,
how soft is the touch
of moss, soft as a mother’s kiss was.
Time sighs with the mountain wind,
unfurling gets caught on the soles
of their boots, in burnt light.Each sundown rosary beads
going through their fingertips.Maria Wallace
Dublin
1st Place Adult Category
Dirge for a Clove in Hot WhiskeyStar crossed you die,
aborted babe,
nipped in the bud
of foetal flowerYou’re plucked blood-red
from ravished trees
to titillate
taste buds of men.Hard as iron nails,
your heart, locked tight,
hides latent wrath
of a child defiled.Well may you burn
the rapping tongues
of buddies, profaning
your hot baptism.Shame, Myrtaceae!
your tempting spice
dooms your offspring
to callow deathAnna Colhoun
Donegal
Runner-Up, Adult Category
The Haka
Willie Bushell kept cattle
On the high hill most of
The year, all black
Like African babies lined up
In a nursery,
They glistened in the sunshine, invisible at night,
And towered in the distance
Like coal eyes placed on a snowman.
‘You can’t beat being hand-picked’
He said,
‘For the palates of kings and queens’
He said,
‘Sacred cows’
We said.
Young boys stood in the gaps as they
Walked to the abattoir,
The cows did the Haka
As the stun gun exploded.Paddy Haren
Cavan
Highly Commended, Adult Category
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