Writing workshop day 6

The Sick Smell

by Rachel McGill

It smells like yellow, green yellow, like pus.
With sterile clean blue. Decaying skin.
Her hair was fluffy and clean but when I kissed her head; salt. Warm, loose skin, salt.

And then there was Blue.
Her soft hand gripping mine and release. And then Darkness.
Rain, Blue, Darkness.

When suddenly all you can smell are lillies, and lillies and,
and you kiss her head but its cold. Dead cold;

and powdery
and you know, you just know,
that her skin is being pulled back by a clothes peg behind her head.

and then you walk, and
walk, and
And you sit.
And all you can smell is old wood and incense and hand shaking
hand shaking
hand shaking
and then… Dirt

That scratchy sound a shovel makes and drip drip drip of dirt.
and then…
The rain.

Diary of an abbey

by Sophia Panek


There was a girl that kept visiting the abbey. One night she was caught with a monk. Since then, she hadn’t been seen again.


The apricots are turning orange in June.


On Sunday the priest tried to get the attention of the people but failed. Everyone was talking, whispering or screaming, spreading the news. The girl… one started. Is dead… another one continued. She has been found in the woods… one wanted to share. Without clothes on… a fourth one joined in. Jim found her… the first one sayed again. Where exactly? Another one asked. However, no one but Jim knew the answer and he never talked about it anymore.


The apricots can be harvested now.


They identified her. It was the same girl that vanished all those years ago. She had been living in the woods, one said. She was a witch, another one was sure of that. She had been in love with the monk, one shouted and a few heads nodded.


The apricots are rotting on the ground because no one is collecting them.


Her funeral was a sad and silent one. There were a lot people but no one had really known her but through all those awful rumours. There were a lot of flowers on the grave afterwards and there are still people visiting her dead body that’s buried beneath the ground.


The apricots vanished, above them is a layer of leaves and snow.


The abbey is empty now. Still, there are monks living in it. Still, people are going there to pray. But it’s empty nonetheless. Her death took the light out of the hallways and from in between the walls.

we’re all gods here

by Lena Gattinger

he strides through the storm like a god

god, how she’d love to be strong enough to resist it

it seems like he’s one with the pouring rain

rain caught in her lashes, she still glows

glows like the lights of his racing car

cars still scare her even after all this time

time is passing and somehow so is she

she smiles and he can’t resist, he never can

can anyone be that angry all the time without exploding

exploding into laughter he charms them all

all he ever wanted was to be be be, he just never was

was it the third or the fourth stop? he didn’t care, he lived for the sensation

sensations she couldn’t put into words for once

once, just once, she wanted them to feel it, feel it like she did

Writing workshop day 5

Inner Hourglass

by Katie O’Rourke

When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.

Can it really be so simple?

Just a quick alteration of perspective. I understand that it is the person who makes a non-living object valuable but what exactly is valuable to man in this hectic corrupt society?

Money? Possessions? Status?

All this egotistical nonsense that we spend so much time of our limited lives worrying and flustering about. Unfortunately, it’s not until the sand in our inner hourglass has almost filled the bottom half is when we finally understand the true meaning of value.

Self Growth

by Katie O’Rourke

Why does fruit fall from the comfort of the safe grip of its motherly branch?

Why does the once elegant youthful rose bow its head in surrender?

Why does even the most resistant weeds wither away to nothing?

This happens in order for change and growth to occur. Loss isn’t always about sadness and broken hearts. As the fruit flails helplessly to the earthy landing and the youthful rose now doubled over and bare why is it only the negative view you focus on? Why is it all you see in that moment of temporary loss? As the fruit begins to turn sour and rot in on itself, while you are strung up in your losses, you are too ignorant to see the regrowth in your own branches. You have already begun healing once you let go of the weigh downs in this short but worthwhile life. As the fruit decays, letting go of it has actually begun to nourish the dried up tired soil. All the love and care in that fruit that you drained your once youthful healthy roots for has been let go of and now you can return and concentrate this love on you just like he should of.

Writing workshop day 4

My youth

by Bernadette Sarman

Alcohol is getting more and more important with the age, everyone wants to get drunk in their youth. But is it really necessary to have fun? Could you have fun even without drinks? Don’t think that every party with a lot of fun is based on alcohol. Even it looks like that. For real, it’s a big point for having fun. Great things are happening and great things are coming to your mind. Have you ever tried to go in a circle while you were drunk? I won’t tell you about my experience. Just because I’m talking about alcohol right now. Kind of sad, isn’t it, actually I wanted to talk about the youth today, in the 21st century. Lying in the grass, watching the sun passing away and the stars coming above me- that is my definition for a good youth. Making plans for the future, fearing, but also looking forward it. Never getting enough sleep, even though you slept for twelve hours. Overthinking your nights for no reasons.

People are weird, aren’t they?

Questioning everything, even religion or politics- that’s also a definition of young people. Right, we all are or were them. Surely, youth has its up and downs but we should know it’s just a period. There is going to be a point in life when you’re looking back at it and wouldn’t it be better to remember t as a good one? Useless to say it’s up to you to create it now. Variety is everywhere, you just have to take it. When you’re in it, you’re going to get it better.

X, I don’t know an English word with X.

Y are the last letters so rare in words.

Zebras are weird and this text too, but I wrote it for the youth and that’s all that matters.

Being Young within the Education System

by Abigail Mulcahy O’Connell

Answers to questions that they were asked. Bravery to step into hallways, scattered with dots of varied uniform. Cat calling down corridors from boys going to maths, while dorky nerds get shoved into corners, jocks blocking all the paths. Electricity being sparked throughout the pumped-up players, yet first years are steadied as they line up in pairs. Glowing faces in the evening as the lunch bell sings out, anwd hectic crowds knotting people filled with worry and doubt. Intensity rises, jelly like legs, kinetic energy, loud screeches, mumbled noise…Never forget. Orange lights turning black, fading. Panic arises in your chest, pitch black views, painted scenarios something no different to previous experiences. Qualifications for university scattering, bouncing. Resentment for not eating breakfast that day, slow grumbles build up with prices you pay, toxic atmospheres you´re surrounded with, unreliable people with a first aid kit. View of your environment returning to sight and white noise which was heavy, now airy and light. X-ray vision, receiving messages of pain from parents, yet another disappointing result, to add to the collection. By now I have as many as a Zodiac sky. Repeat…

The fierce Irish bull

by Luke Lockhart O’Dea and Hughbert Walsh

Anyone in Ireland knows every native animal ,

But there is none as fierce as the irish bull,

Calm and quiet he is until he says hi,

Don’t wear red unless you want DIE

Even i know thats a big mistake,

Fear of the Irish bull will make you shake ,

God can’t save you this time

Have to get away make that climb

can’t warn you enough,

Jose not even you are that tough

Kill you he will,

Lots of blood will spill

Many people have recieved this fate,

Nobody wants to infiltrate,

Or else your fate is sealed

People do not enter his field

Quiet you may be

Ready to run and flee

So have we told you what to do!

Then only visit him in the zoo

Unleash the beast and feel his wraith,

Viewing from far away on the safe path,

Why would you chance it,

Xylophones are the shit,

Y did i talk about xylaphones