The bridge of rebellion
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
We crossed the bridge
the river beneath
the city split
but we were free
Dublin’s heart
beating strong
we dreamt of rebels
of righting the wrong
The English think
the world is theirs
they build their towers
they wear their prayers
But we saw the city
broken and scarred
fighting for freedom
standing guard
In the shadows of the past
we stood
imagining ourselves
as we should
rebels in the streets
taking the fight
liberating Dublin
in the dead of night
The river flowed
a cold
dark stream
carrying our thoughts
our silent scream
The bridge beneath us
the city ahead
we dreamt of a world
where the chains
were shed
So let them think
the world’s their own
we’ll burn in the dark
we’ll stand alone
For Dublin is ours
in heart and soul
rebels forever
making us whole

Heart of Earth
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
Oh Ireland
heart of earth and sky
Where mountains rise
and rivers sigh
Your shores are kissed
by endless waves
A cradle for the wild
and brave
In fields of green
where grasses bow
The ghosts
of ancient warriors vow
To guard the soul
of every stone
And in your winds
their spirits roam
The hills that watch
the morning’s grace
Are witnesses
of time and place
Where heroes fell
and lovers met
And where the sun
in gold
is set
Your lakes
reflect the skies above
A mirror to your endless love
And in your song
the winds will tell
Of myths and dreams
of heaven and hell
Oh Ireland
with your heart so pure
Through storms
you’ve fought
through peace endured
Your beauty
in the world remains
A light
that never dims or wanes
I walk upon your soil
and know
That in your depths
the rivers flow
Not just with water
but with grace
That blesses
every tired face
Oh Ireland
in your heart I find
A love that haunts
the deepest mind
A spirit born
from land and sea
Forevermore
you live in me

Dublin’s duality
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
In Dublin’s heart
where past and present
meet
The Docklands rise in sleek
cold
gleaming heat
Once
ships and salt
and laughter filled the air
Now glass towers
pierce the fog
with silent glare
The cobbles echo
footsteps of the old
Where once the port
was filled with tales untold
Yet now the pulse
is masked in chrome and steel
The heartbeats of the past
they cannot heal
I walked these streets
where ancient smoke did rise
Now they glisten
beneath the modern skies
And in the shadows
of the glass and stone
The whispers of the sailors
still are known
Dublin
with all your charm
your endless grace
You carry both
the slow and fleeting pace
The bustle of your streets
the quiet past
A city built on time
both slow and fast
The Docklands gleam
a symbol of your fight
To shed the skin
of yesterday’s dark night
But in your veins
the salt of history clings
And in your streets
the echoes still take wing
Oh Dublin
in your contradictions deep
You rise and fall
you wake and fall asleep
In glass and stone
your dreams
may touch the sky
Yet in your soul
the old songs never die

The harp on my hand
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
I showed you
the ink on my right hand
a small harp
like the last strand
of Ireland’s heart
woven in the skin
where history and rebellion
begin
You
with your skin so clean
so bare
no ink to mark you
no sign to wear
But in your eyes
I see the flame
a fire that burns
though you’ve no name
The harp is more
than just a song
it’s freedom
it’s rebellion
it’s where I belong
It whispers of battles
of songs untold
of rebels and dreamers
both fierce and bold
In Ireland
it’s the symbol of the free
the sound of the soul
the fight to be
And when I showed it to you
that night
I wondered
if you saw the same light
You wear no symbols
but your spirit speaks
in the way you move
in the way you seek
The harp on my hand
is a battle cry
and maybe
just maybe
you hear it pass by
So while I carry this mark
so small
so bright
know that it’s more
than just ink in the night
It’s Ireland
it’s freedom
it’s the rebel’s call
and maybe one day
you’ll understand it all

Age is a lie
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
I never asked
I never cared
how many years you’ve lived
how long you’ve stared
into the fire
the books
the dark
you carry time
but you leave no mark
You feel young
like the winds that scream
wild and free
like a restless dream
But in your eyes
there’s too much depth
too many stories
that steal your breath
You speak like a sage
but look like the night
your soul too old
for your youthful light
I can’t count the years
I can’t trace the line
between the child
and the man you define
Your knowledge is fire
burning bright
but you wear it like darkness
out of sight
Too young to know so much
it seems
but you are everything
that history dreams
So I don’t ask
and I don’t guess
your age is a secret
no need to confess
You’re timeless
a paradox
a flame
forever both
young and old
untamed

Through the glass
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
I sit where shadows
softly dwell
In Dublin’s heart
a private hell
Beyond the glass
the world takes flight
Unmoved by pain
my veiled night
The cobbled streets
in ceaseless flow
Faces come
and faces go
Yet here I freeze
my spirit bound
A silent scream
no echo found
An Irish tea
my fragile balm
To soothe the storm
to feign a calm
Its warmth
against my trembling frame
A fleeting shield
from fear’s cruel flame
They walk
they laugh
they never see
The frozen world
that lives in me
Where panic reigns
a specter’s grasp
And breath itself
becomes a task
Oh Dublin
city fierce and grand
Your life pours forth
a shifting sand
While I
ensnared
can only stare
Through fragile glass
at what’s not there
For in this moment
time has stilled
And yet the streets
with motion filled
A paradox
a cruel design
Their world untouched
while I lose mine

Under the Spire’s shadow
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
It was December
cold and wild
we met for the first time
both beguiled
Under the Spire
towering high
in O’Connell Street
where the dark
meets the sky
The city was alive
with a neon glow
the Christmas lights
casting shadows below
On the Post Office
so ancient
so grand
the colors of history
reflected on the land
Once a place of struggle
of voices so loud
now bathed in lights
under a festive shroud
But we didn’t see
the holiday cheer
we saw the past
and the things we fear
The flickering lights
red
green
and blue
mirrored the fire
that burned in you
We stood in the shadow
of the Spire’s might
the city alive
but we burned
through the night
No words were needed
just a glance
two rebels caught
in a twisted dance
The echoes of history
in the air we breathe
we stood together
in what we both believed
The world around us
both dark and bright
but in that moment
we held onto the night
Under the Spire
the city alive
we were free
we were fire
we would survive

The bench between the pages
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
In the cold bite
of December air
we sat on the bench
a world laid bare
Between the Parliament’s stone
so gray
and Trinity’s halls
where memories stay
The library stood
silent and old
where Sinead’s voice
once sang so bold
Yeats whispered
in the dust and light
and we
rebels in the dark of night
We spoke of poets
of words that burn
of verses that twist
of hearts that yearn
Yeats
Wilde
and Pearse
all lost in time
their words etched in shadows
a rhythm
a rhyme
The cold ground beneath us
the world passed by
but in that moment
you and I
were the voices of the past
the ink-stained soul
burning with passion
out of control
We didn’t need
the books to read
for the poets lived
in the hearts that bleed
In that library’s silence
we found our voice
in the chaos of words
we made our choice
The bench
the night
the rain-soaked street
a rebel’s love
so raw
so sweet
And though the world
may turn away
we’ll speak of Yeats
in our own way

Freedom’s edge
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
I crave the wild
the untamed skies
where no one tells me
how to live or die
A rebel heart
unchained
unbound
I scream in silence
no cage to be found
Freedom is fire
burning in my veins
it’s chaos and calm
pleasure and pain
Not a law
not a rule
not a voice in my ear
just the roar of the world
that I refuse to fear
I’ll take the streets
the backroads
the fight
where the shadows dance
and the day is night
No chains will bind me
no hands will hold
I am the storm
the story untold
You might say I’m lost
or that I’m broken
but freedom is the truth
I’ve always spoken
It’s in the air
it’s in my soul
it’s the fractured pieces
that make me whole
No gods
no masters
no one to obey
I walk my own path
and I’ll never stray
For freedom’s not a gift
it’s a right
to live
to burn
to take flight
So hear me now
in the darkened street
I am the wild
I am complete
No chains
no rules
no fate to deny
just the truth of the wind
and the endless sky

Beneath the Celtic sky
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
I’ve fought with fire
with blood
with soul
to calm the storm
to play my role
A heart that beats
in reckless time
a borderline pulse
so wild
so blind
But you
with your northern eyes so clear
speak without words
yet I feel you near
Your Celtic silence
your gentle hand
a quiet strength
like the shifting sand
I’ve tried to learn
your subtle art
to bury the chaos
that tears me apart
To hold my tongue
when the urge ignites
to tame the beast
in the dead of night
You don’t shout
you don’t scream
you hold your truth
in a whispered dream
I’ve watched you
calm in your own skin
as I burn with questions
I can’t begin
But here I stand
beneath your skies
not chasing fire
but tracing your eyes
For you are a man
of the unspoken
true
and I am learning
the quiet too
My punk heart struggles
it always will
to walk your path
to be still
Yet in this silence
I find my way
respecting you
in the wild disarray
So though I crave the chaos
the scream
I’ll hold it back for you
it seems
In your world of gentleness
I’ll stand
finding peace
in the touch of your hand