Excellence rewarded at St. Malachy's Primary School Armagh

Pictured are three children from St. Malachy's P.S. with their Principal Mr Duggan, who were commended at the recent Lena Mackrel schools' poetry competition.

Blaithin received The Lena Mackrel Perpertual Shield, the third year in a row that she has been applauded for her work. Lorcan's and Aofie's poems were also ‘highly commended' at the awards ceremony.

 

 

Second Prize: The Lena Mackrel Perpetual Shield

Silence
This is just to say goodnight
To the distant blur
Of the TV
Like two people having a
Conversation at the back of my mind.
To the residents
Of the house rolling over in their squeaky beds
But not to be confused with
The eerie creek of the door on the garden shed.
Now I begin to feel drowsy
My eyelids begin to flutter.
I realise those sounds are not the most
Relaxing
Or
Captivating
Sounds
The most mysterious sound
I can hear it now
It is...
SILENCE
This is just to say good night.
Bláithín  P7


Highly Commended Award

Irish Dancing

‘Stand straight,
Pointy toe.
Arms in,
Ready... go!

 

Music starts,
Legs high
Hops up,
To the sky.

 

Do good,
Look ahead.
Jump up,
Dress red.

Aoife  P5

Highly Commended Award

The Sorrows of Winter

The First Sorrow of Winter
Is the farewell to the leaves
The wind sweeping them away
Making way for the icy snow.

 

The Second Sorrow of Winter
Is the hibernating animals
Covered in snow, curled up so tight
Some might mistake them for a football.

The Third Sorrow of Winter
Is the sound of a car skidding
On the freshly fallen snow,
or the ice as slippy as slime.

The Fourth Sorrow of Winter
Is the joyful sound of the children playing
Going down the hill on sleighs
As quick as lightning.

The Fifth Sorrow of Winter
Is the snow, as cold as ice
Looking out through my bedroom window
It looks as if someone has placed
A white sheet of paper over the land.

The Sixth Sorrow of Winter
Is the bare trees, with no life
Or animals around them
As if someone sucked all the life
Out of the world.

The Seventh Sorrow of Winter
Is the bitterness of the cold
Which will never let you go.

Lorcan P7