The borderline storm
(📝Marcella Boccia)
They see my smile
my fleeting grace
A life they covet
a lucky face
But within this frame
a tempest swirls
A chaos where my mind
unfurls
Each breath
a war
each thought
a knife
This isn’t living
it’s borrowed life
My heart
it races without cause
A drumbeat born
of broken laws
The panic rises
grips my soul
A chasm deep
a gaping hole
And in its grasp
I fight to stand
A prisoner
of my own hand
Oh they speak of joy
of love
of light
They cannot see
my endless night
The storms within
the silent screams
The fractured self
the splintered dreams
To them
I’m blessed
a fleeting star
Not a soul
with wounds that scar
They cannot know
they will not see
The razor edge
inside of me
Oh Dublin
hear my shadowed cry
These cobblestones
where I could lie
And let this storm
find quiet skies
Before I’m lost
where silence lies

Footprints of the poet
(📝Marcella Boccia)
I tread where Yeats
once walked alone
His voice now echoes
through the stone
Each cobbled step
a fleeting rhyme
Each shadow
whispers of his time
The city’s breath
a restless thing
Aching with songs
it cannot sing
And I
a stranger
not my own
Am bound by words
I’ve never known
Beneath my feet
her footprints lay
Rachel’s art
her silent play
Yet more than bronze
beneath my heel
The weight of verse
I cannot seal
For madness waits
a patient guest
When silence
robs the soul of rest
And so I write
though not my tongue
A borrowed hymn
a song unsung
Oh Yeats
your shadow burns my mind
A blazing torch
I cannot bind
Your words
a mirror
cold and clear
Reflect the truths
I’d most revere
I walk your streets
your sacred ground
The rebel’s cry
the mournful sound
In every step
in every stone
I hear the voice
that claims my own
This need to write
this fierce demand
To grasp the fleeting
with my hand
To carve the chaos into line
To wrest from sorrow
something divine
And though the verses
twist and fray
And language falters
falls away
These borrowed words
though not my start
Have now become
my restless heart

At the steps of the GPO
(📝Marcella Boccia)
Beneath the pillars
stark and proud
Where rifles once
defied the crowd
A line now stretches
silent
still
A hunger deeper
than mere will
Their faces worn
by years of strife
Each glance
a shard of broken life
Men and women
old and young
With songs of sorrow
left unsung
I stood apart
my breath held tight
The ghosts of Easter
in the light
This sacred place
of rebel creed
Now bears the weight
of quiet need
The wind that whipped
the tricolor free
Now chills these souls
in poverty
The fight once waged
with steel and flame
Now battles hunger’s
endless shame
My heart rebelled
it burned
it wept
It cursed the crown
whose shadow crept
Whose greed still feeds
on distant shores
While here despair
knocks on the doors
Oh Ireland
land of grief and grace
How long
must famine haunt your face?
How cruel the chain
that binds anew
What freedom means
for so few of you
And yet
amidst this weary throng
A quiet courage
lingers strong
For in their eyes
though dimmed by care
A spark of something proud
is there
As I walked on
my soul did stay
Bound to that line
that bitter day
For what is poetry
but a cry
When faced with truths
that shan’t deny?

On a Winter’s Bench
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
Beneath the shadowed
wintry skies
Outside the Library
where wisdom lies
I sit and speak
with an elder soul
His voice a balm
his words make whole
His charm is woven
rich and wise
A warmth that thaws
December’s ice
Like tea that soothes
with milk’s soft grace
His presence fills
this frozen space
The Parliament stands
its gates are sealed
A silent witness
a truth revealed
As festive stillness
claims the land
We linger here
hand near to hand
The world feels distant
time unwinds
The cold retreats
and solace binds
Oh Dublin
your breath in winter’s chill
Yet hearts can burn
and spirits fill
For words alone
when deeply cast
Can heal the wounds
of present and past
And in his gaze
I glimpse the light
That warms the soul
through darkest night

At the Cobblestone
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
Beneath the waning Dublin sky
The Cobblestone called
and so did I
To find where fiddles
wove their thread
And banished sorrow’s
weighty dread
The bodhrán’s thrum
the whistle’s sigh
Bound hearts as one
though none knew why
A pint of black
though sinless
crowned
The night
where laughter’s spell
was found
There sat a man
with beard of flame
His eyes
green embers
called my name
With tales of rebels
hills
and streams
He pulled me
into woven dreams
We spoke of nothing
yet so much
Our worries lost
to mirth’s soft touch
The world’s woes faded
thin as mist
Each word we shared
a fleeting tryst
His hand
so firm
an anchor there
Held fast
a yellow umbrella rare
A beacon bright
amid the gloom
A charm
against the future’s tomb
Oh guide of Dublinesque delight
Will you not linger
past this night
For in your voice
the lilt of song
That bids the weary heart
grow strong
The fiddles stilled
the clock struck late
Yet time seemed shy
to close its gate
For in his gaze
I dared to see
A life unbound
both wild and free
So raise the glass
let health return
Let fires of joy
within us burn
And though the night
must fade away
Its memory
will forever stay

Celtic cross in the wind
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
A Celtic cross stands
jagged and worn
kissing the wind
where the ocean is torn
The waves crash below
a feral hymn
a dirge for the lost
for the shadows within
Its stone is rough
carved by the years
etched with whispers
soaked in tears
A relic of gods
of battles and scars
of moons that watched
beneath distant stars
The wind screams through it
raw and alive
like voices of ghosts
who refused to survive
Their stories are stitched
in the salt-stained air
rebels and lovers
the broken who dared
I see you there
in its shadowed gaze
a warrior’s heart
set ablaze
You kiss the storm
with a quiet defiance
a soft rebellion
a fierce reliance
The cross bows not
though time may demand
it grips the earth
with a weathered hand
Like you
it stands
where others would fall
a monument to freedom
to answering the call
And as the wind howls
I watch it bend
a fleeting gesture
a lover
a friend
The ocean roars
the cross stays true
a symbol of strength
like the soul in you

Dark thoughts
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
We walked
through Dublins streets
the cold sharp and real
while I spoke
of the darkness
the numbness I feel
How life is a cycle
so boring
so gray
how every breath
feels like it’s wasting
the day
I told you of thoughts
that came
uninvited
the weight of the silence
the moments ignited
How I crave the chaos
the fire
the spark
how without it
my soul just drifts
in the dark
And you
with your wisdom
so steady
so calm
spoke of the storms
of finding a balm
Of how life
isn’t just thrills
but the quiet and peace
and how even the broken
can find a release
I walked in your words
your steady refrain
as the cold cut through us
the wind like a chain
You said I needed to feel
but not in the rush
that life’s beauty
lies in the stillness
the hush
But still
in my chest
the hunger won’t cease
the need for the wild
the crave for release
Yet your voice was a tether
pulling me back
reminding me gently
that peace isn’t lack
We walked in the night
the city asleep
while the secrets I told you
I wanted to keep
But for once
the cold felt
like more than a threat
it felt like a space
where my heart
could forget

Stockholm syndrome
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
We walked through Dublin
the cold biting deep
but the city was ours
no promises to keep
The streets whispered secrets
the night did not care
we were rebels in the frost
with the wind in our hair
I spoke of India
of its twisted mind
of Stockholm’s grip
of being confined
How the heart can love
what hurts the most
how the soul can tether itself
to a ghost
You listened in silence
the frost in your breath
as I told of the chains
that bind until death
Of love turned poison
of the mind’s cruel game
and how you can’t escape
once
they’ve called your name
Dublin’s streets were alive
but we were dead
walking ghosts
both lost in our heads
The cold didn’t matter
the world could freeze
we were two in the night
driven by disease
So we walked on
the wind howling in time
our words and the cold
were a perfect rhyme
I spoke of love
twisted and wrong
and you just listened
where you belonged

The tea at Hyde
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
We sat in the dim light
of Hyde’s embrace
the city’s hum
fading into space
The silver teapot
the black cups cold
our hands wrapped
around stories untold
You taught me the art
the subtle grace
of waiting
of patience
in this quiet place
Two drops of milk
like secrets shared
in the dark brew
both daring and paired
The steam rose
but so did the weight
of unspoken words
of hearts too late
You showed me
how to make it right
how to let time slow
down the night
In the silence
in the swirling brew
I learned more of me
and more of you
A dark ritual
a quiet fight
waiting for the perfect
bite
So we sipped in the dark
and let it seep
through the cracks of our souls
so deep
The tea was more
than warmth in the night
it was a moment stolen
from the fight

Dublin’s ghosts in the wires
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
The streets hum
with electric veins
neon lights pulse
through modern lanes
Dublin’s face
both old and new
a city of past and future
in every view
Vikings’ shadows
under glass and steel
their blood
their fight
their ancient zeal
In every corner
in every scream
echoes of warriors
still in the dream
The machines buzz
the screens glow bright
but history’s fire still burns
through the night
The city moves
it breathes
it thrives
but the ghosts of the past
are still alive
Between the wires
the silicon
the code
there’s a river of stories
on every road
The Vikings came
and they stayed
in the stone
now their legacy
lives in the unknown
In this city of tech
of future’s claim
we walk the streets
we call their name
We carry the past
we wear it like a crown
rebels and warriors
never backing down
So let the screens glow
let the wires sing
Dublin’s heart
beats in the past’s wing
A city of legends
a city of pride
where the past and future
both collide