Well done to all those students who submitted entries to the Rotary Young Writer Competition last term. The task of the competition was to write a short story or poem entitled ‘My Inspiration’.
We are pleased to announce that Niamh (7B) won first prize in the intermediate section, of the regional heat, for her poem. She then went on to achieve runner up in the district round of the competition as well.
Amelia (11B) won first prize in the senior category of both the regional and district heat of the competition, for her poem of the same title. Amelia’s entry will now go on to the National Final of the competition in May. Congratulations to you both and good luck Amelia for the final round.
My Inspiration
I remember,
Excitement flooding me as the stones crunched beneath my feet as I walked down the track,
I remember,
The clear blue sky and the cool breeze with the sun shining upon my back,
I remember,
The sound of horse’s hooves as they walked across the fields that they freely roamed,
I remember,
The smell of hay, dust and horse dung at which I never groaned,
I remember,
The feeling of happiness as I met my horse within its stable,
I remember,
How he was a great friend to me who was always loyal and amiable,
I remember,
His soft, velvety muzzle nudging my hand in greeting,
I remember,
The smell that I knew so well as I sunk my face into his mane and that always felt comforting,
I remember,
Jumping into the saddle and feeling relaxed and content,
I remember,
Riding into the arena, we tried our best and came out knowing that we had won the event,
From that day onwards I knew that I had made a great companion and that no hour of my life was going be wasted in his saddle.
By Niamh (Age 12)
My Inspiration
Her hair seems to glow
In the gauzy shaft of light
Delicately I arrange
Those porcelain hands
Against the folds of her
Deep blue dress
Tilt the head
Lower those eyes
I step back
And see….
She is a faceless dream
That seems to seep
Through hidden cracks
I arrange her to
Suit my every need
Yet never can my brush control
There lies a spark
Beneath her pale face
It burns alight
Engulfing all
A million copies
Of a single face
I am lost
Trying to fill an empty space
Hiding from an unknown fear
She looks at me
And I am forced to see
That it is not the painter who
Will be remembered
But her
My inspiration
My cursed muse
By Amelia (Age 16 years)