The wandering yellow umbrella
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
A yellow shade
upon the grey
It drifts where city
shadows lay
Through alleys dim
and markets loud
It floats above
the hurried crowd
No mortal hand
its path does steer
It wends through seasons
far and near
With silken spokes
and golden hue
A brighter world
it passes through
By baker’s stall
it halts to rest
Where laughter warms
the weary chest
It fans a breeze
for aching brows
Then moves where
gentle fate allows
A poet sees
its dancing arc
And scribbles verses
in the dark
A child laughs
beneath its wing
And learns again
how joy can sing
By lovers’ quarrels
it appears
To soften words
and dry their tears
And when the lonely
spy its glow
It whispers truths
they long to know
No voice it has
no force
no claim
Yet all who glimpse
it leave not the same
It trades in beauty
dreams
and grace
Then vanishes without a trace
O yellow wand’rer
fleeting fair
What ancient wisdom
do you bear?
The city sighs
as you depart
Yet keeps your glow
within its heart

The red-haired maidens
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
In the streets
where shadows creep
Walk maidens
young and bold
With hair of fire
and skin so pale
Their stories never told
Their jackets
soft as Viking fur
Embrace their frames
with pride
While skirts
so short
reveal the edge
Where innocence does hide
Their eyes
like pools of ancient flame
Are pools
that lure the soul
And in their laughter
cold as night
They make the dark take toll
The red-haired maidens
fierce and fair
With pelts of beasts
long gone
They walk the streets
in silence deep
Where shadows linger on
Like Viking queens
from long ago
They wear their power bright
And though their beauty
calls to you
It leads you
into night
So in their wake
I hear the sound
Of whispers from the past
Of warriors lost
and kings undone
In shadows they are cast

Upon the rainbow’s arch
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
One winter’s eve
as dusk grew near
A whisper
touched my waiting ear
And there he stood
both sly and small
The leipreachán
his shadow tall
With emerald eyes
he took my hand
Come
he said
to a brighter land
Through cobblestone streets
we wove unseen
Till rain fell soft
a silver sheen
An arc of light
the rainbow’s span
Became the bridge
where we began
Upward we climbed
through hues so bright
To realms untouched
by sorrow’s blight
Below
the city dimmed and shrank
Its weight
its woes
its shadows dank
But here
above
the air was clear
No grief could reach
no whispered fear
We danced
where starlight
kissed the ground
Where joy and peace
alone were found
A golden stream
a gentle breeze
A realm where hearts
could rest with ease
Is this a dream?
I dared to say
For pain and loss
seem far away
The leipreachán
with knowing grin
Said
Truth is here
not where you’ve been
We walked
through glades of endless green
Through skies
where sun and moon convene
The world below
seemed faint
undone
Its heavy chords
no longer sung
But dreams must fade
as dreams will do
And back
I fell to life anew
Yet in my heart
remains that glow
Of lands I touched
where peace does grow
So when the rain
begins to fall
And Dublin’s streets
grow cold and small
I see his eyes
I feel his hand
And dream once more
of that bright land

The dark wood of the pub
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
In the dark wood of the pub
I stand
Where shadows dance
with a ghostly hand
The oak is black
the air is thick
And all around
the spirits flick
The flicker of the fire’s
glow
Reveals the shapes
that creep below
Tiny feet and eyes
that gleam
Fae and demons
in my dream
Their laughter rises
cold and sharp
A haunting song
a twisted harp
The blackened wood
hums with their song
A symphony
that’s dark and long
Oh, how they whisper
soft and sweet
Their voices
twisting in the beat
Of time
where dreams and nightmares
meet
And all the world
in shadows greet
The pub
a place
where drink flows deep
But deeper
still the secrets keep
For in the black
of every beam
Lives the dark
of every dream
So in this wood
where I now stand
I see the fae
the darkened band
And as I drink
I feel them near
The demons that I hold
so dear

The scent of roasted barley
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
In Dublin’s heart
where the Liffey flows
a smoky sweetness
on the cool wind blows
The barley burns
a humble hymn of toil
steeped in the memory
of Ireland’s soil
The cobblestones hum
with steps of old
whispering tales
that were brave and bold
Rebellion’s roar
a poet’s rhyme
Each stone a witness
to another time
Emerald hills
in the distance gleam
a land that moves
like a waking dream
The waves that crash
on the western shore
sing of the courage
that came before
From famine’s shadow
to freedom’s light
they held their ground
they fought the fight
With songs and stories
with wit and fire
they built a nation
to inspire
Oh, scent of barley
in the Dublin air
a fleeting trace
yet always there
It binds the past
to the present hour
a quiet strength
a steadfast power
Ireland
land of love and art
of broken chains
and a mended heart
your beauty’s deep
your spirit strong
a country built
on a ceaseless song

The gaze of Ireland
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
In Dublin’s streets
where shadows blend
I saw a gaze
that seemed to send
A story locked
within the eyes
Of ancient truths
and soft goodbyes
The people pass
their faces bright
But in their eyes
a fading light
A quiet sorrow
deep and clear
Of lands once lost
of love and fear
In Galway’s winds
beneath the sky
I met a gaze
that asked me why
The world had changed
had lost its grace
And left behind
that sacred place
Through every glance
a tale was spun
Of battles fought
and songs unsung
Of hearts that yearned
and souls that wept
In fields where dreams
had softly slept
Oh Ireland
in those silent looks
A thousand years
in memory crooks
Each gaze a bridge
to distant time,
Where hearts beat fierce
yet lost in rhyme
From Dublin’s streets
to Galway’s shore
The eyes I met
were evermore
A testament to all
that’s been
And all that waits
still yet unseen

Crying gulls
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
Through cobbled streets
where echoes dwell
Beneath the sky
a seagull’s knell
I wander
caught in winter’s breath
A fleeting life
a song of death
The cold wind bites
yet draws me near
To faces warm
and voices clear
Each stranger’s gaze
a tale untold
Of Dublin’s heart
both young and old
The gulls above
they scream and cry
Their endless hymn
a mourning sky
A city’s soul
in flight and sound
Where dreams are lost
and sometimes found
Oh Dublin fair
your winding ways
Your fleeting sun
your storm-filled days
Each cobblestone
a secret keeps
Each breeze
a whisper that never sleeps
Through you I walk
both lost and found
With every step
on sacred ground
The heart you bear
so fierce
so kind
A mirror
to my wandering mind
In cold embrace
you hold me tight
Your winter days
your restless night
I came to see
to feel
to know
But Dublin’s spirit
claims me so

By the Liffey’s edge
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
Weary feet
find solace still
I sink upon a bench
at will
Beside the river
swift and wide
That cleaves the city
side to side
An Life
they name it
soft and old
Its waters mirror
skies so cold
It hums a tune
of ages past
Of fleeting moments
never cast
A gull alights
so bold
so white
Upon the bench
in fading light
Its gaze
a quiet
steady flame
As if it knows
my untamed name
Companion
to my solitude
It breaks the spell
of silent brood
Its wings half-fold
a gentle guard
Against the night
so harsh
so hard
Does it wish
to mend my ache?
To share the sorrows
I can’t shake?
Or does it simply
pause to rest
While Liffey flows
a ceaseless guest?
I find no words
no tethered plea
Yet in its stillness
solace
free
Together there
we softly stay
Two wanderers
at close of day
And as the river
winds its way
Through Dublin’s heart
of stone and clay
I feel a calm
within me grow
A fleeting warmth
the gull bestows

The laughter of Chrysippus
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
What is life
but a fleeting jest
A puzzle dressed
in nature’s vest?
A riddle spun
of joy and strife
A fleeting spark
a borrowed life
What is philosophy
but a lamp in the dark
A guide for the heart
a map for the stark?
It turns the chaos
to a melody fine
A dance of thought
a thread divine
Oh Chrysippus
wise and bold
In tales of you
my thoughts take hold
To die in laughter
a jest your crown
No better way
to lay life down
And you
my friend
with fiery hair
In that dim-lit pub
we made the air
Resound with laughter
sharp and sweet
A melody
that made time retreat
We laughed so hard
my stomach ached
My temples pulsed
my soul awaked
The music played
the fiddles sang
As through the night
our voices rang
For what is life
if not absurd?
A fleeting breath
a fleeting word
Why not embrace
its fleeting flame
And laugh as we leave
its fleeting game?
Oh to die with a jest
on the tongue
As if the gods themselves
were sung
A jest that lives
while the body fades
An eternal spark
in time’s cascades
Chrysippus
your laughter still rings clear
A truth profound
untainted by fear
And in your memory
we found delight
Two souls united
in laughter’s light
For life
it seems
is a comedy brief
A jest
a sigh
a moment’s relief
And if I must part
from this fleeting sphere
Let it be with a jest
and you near

Harp-shaped path
- (📝Marcella Boccia) -
I sit upon a bench
so cold
Beneath
the winter’s grasp I fold
And gaze upon
the arched bridge near
A harp-shaped path
so pure
so clear
The river whispers
soft and slow
Its waters twirl
its currents flow
A symbol carved
in iron bright
Of songs once sung
in long lost night
But in my heart
a question stirs
What is love
my soul confers?
Is it the bridge
so full of grace
Or fleeting thoughts
that time erase?
Is love the way
the river bends
The journeys past
the roads that end?
Or is it found
in silence deep
In memories
that wake from sleep?
The harp-shaped bridge
the river’s song
Both carry me
where I belong
But love
I feel it not in gold
But in the moments
left untold
What is love?
I do not know
But on this bench
my heart will grow