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I'mpassion and I'mpassive by JohnnyCurcio, literature
Literature
I'mpassion and I'mpassive
I am impassive, a wall that no one can break,
but inside I've made a most regretful mistake.
Stuck in a suit of fallible flesh,
marrow and sinew entwined in a mesh,
and buried deep down in the depths of me
is a burning storm of impassioned energy.
Much like lightning, electrical pulses, ignites
my blood stream like oil, it lights and excites.
Burning now like a mass of brilliant beacons,
soldiers shrink back at the sight of my legions.
Inside I'm passion and fire and battle...
outside I'm passive, the kindred to cattle.
Memories of Freedom (Poetry) by ChelseaStawicki, literature
Literature
Memories of Freedom (Poetry)
Across the winter sky it became from blue to gray, As the snowflakes has fallen down you beg to stay, The air feels cold against your skin when you pray, A sense of peace when you close your eyes and wander astray. At least tell me if I can be like a cloud, To create art in the sky and away from the crowd, Not that I am screaming out loud. We dream about flying and waited so long to find our wings, Each star in space is like a dream in a diamond ring, I am not looking for a king, At least I want to sing. When you open your eyes do they gleam or sparkle? Dancing above the ocean waves spinning around in a circle, Do you ask yourself if you ever wanted to be mortal? What are the problems of being a human when they don’t have their own wings? Do they bring? Or do they cling? No one knows how hard it is to be a simple angel on earth, Even when we give it our worth, There is something deeper than the soul to find how much it is known to be a hearth. Every human goes dark, To lose that
With a thunderous whack and an ear-splitting clap And shouting from the sliotar’s slap Grit your teeth and chase down your opponent But careful, a bone’s sure to snap Get the ball in your hand, but you can’t pick it up! You’ll be booed right out of the club Can’t manage this? Then get off to the side And let in your brogue-armored sub Run down the pitch with a whirl and a twirl With the sliotar on the end of your hurl What, I can only take twelve steps?! Ha, bet you now want to skirl But if you manage to hit the sliotar long Toward the goal or the upright’s prongs You’ll be met with a free pint And joined in your county’s old songs
Vom Hügel gegenüber Stood the spiteful brooder Cé le guth briste Lamented rotten bouquets Und vom nahen Hügel Came a sound just as dull Ón gcailín laghdaithe go cnámha Beneath a crooked bough “Do not cross this valley floor” Dúirt sé le croí trom “For my soul to you I bore Als wäre es ein Traum" With a wicked smile, said she: “Das war das Ziel von dem Spiel For I am but a ticking clock Ach anois...táim tuirseach”
Tá ón taobh amuigh Ag féachaint isteach Labhraíonn siad faoi Na scéalta sa teach Lonraíonn meangtha Cosúil le coinnle Níl ionam ach uatha Ina n-aonar san oíche Tá sé geal i mo chroí ‘Sea ag faire ar an teaghlach Ach táim ar an taobh amuigh Ag féachaint isteach
I dream at the stake When to dream is my mistake I see I won’t partake Fire’s climbing, watch me quake When cloaks of white Skirt the edges of my sight Playing devil’s acolyte Never a fair fight Gripped in the throes Terror ultimately chose To ne’er abandon my repose Ah, to dream, I suppose… Fire’s climbing, watch me quake
On the breeze floats a loud nothingness That greets waiting ears so eagerly Setting hearts beating to reminisce Valleys filled with fleeting melodies Up high in the cliffs of Donegal Down deep in the mist of Kilkenny Have meticulous bards chronicled Heroes' history marred by villainy Do you hear the fiddle's whispering Coming nearer as we assemble? What was silence is now flickering A céilí we will soon resemble Do you hear the bodhrán's playfulness? With each beat, the ear grows livelier Now let's cue that sean-nós gracefulness With the tipper's beating mightier! Do you hear the pipes of Uilleann Through glens and forests still echoing? Sure to bring tappin' from everyone 'Till whoops and hollers are bellowing Do you hear the notes oft glorious From the feadóg stáin—clear, effortless? Putting to shame dear, old Orpheus Even cold Hades would acquiesce Do you feel, in your bones, eagerness To go home and join the excitement? Clackin', tappin' to songs, treasonous And dance
A secluded spy sits, silent, Vibrant violence rampant; Slyly searching for some guidance: Sirens’ singing dampened? Surrounded by brutal anger, Pander preludes concern; Wrapped in their own careless clangor— Rancor, rubble, adjourn. He searches for the right reason, Beaten back by disgust Of his comrades’ careful needing; Weeping thick tears, nonplussed. Dons one’s old shoes, ties the laces, Places steps softly; Compassion dawns during his paces, Chases cold notions held falsely. Convoluted codes made more complex Affect who’s the wiser; Take time to show respect, Recollect empathy’s cypher.
Nuair a bhí sé ag cur báistí Agus chas an domhan donn Dhídeanach bhí an sidhe Och ochón agus ochón ó Nuair a thit Fódla ar Ériú Abhain na Bóinne: labhraíonn Sliabh na mBan: éisteann Och ochón agus ochón ó