rish verse in one of the most ancient in Europe. A sense of natural beauty characterizes Celtic Ireland’s poetry and prose.
The beauty of Irish verse
rish verse in one of the most ancient in Europe. A sense of natural beauty characterizes Celtic Ireland’s poetry and prose. A strong characteristic feature of early Irish verse is its passionate love of nature and its religious intensity. Sometimes these qualities merge with each other, such as in the ‘Deer’s Cry’, attributed to St Patrick:
I arise today
Through the strength of heaven:
Light of sun,
Radiance of moon,
Splendour of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of wind,
Depth of sea,
Stability of earth,
Firmness of rock.
Doubts
By Shafi Rehman
These clouds of doubts surfing across my mind
and wondering how to leave the shadows behind
I’m feeling numb and can resist their temptation
and this time I’m not feeling any hesitation
I’ve visualized both sides of the story
In my defeat I know was your glory
At the corner of my mind light is still igniting
and I can’t help avoid this fighting
What else is left to prove here?
This pain I can now easily bear
I know that you don’t have to care
and what else do I have to swear?
Enlightenment
By Ayesha Malik
Down ,down, down
Into the dark sea
Lost in the murky waters
All hope and ecstasy
Twirling around
Entangling more and more
In the web of reeds
No way out
Only a soliloquy
Of despair, sorrow and melancholy
Suddenly I see a twinkle
A light at the end of the tunnel
Something to behold
And slowly make my way out
One step at a time
Treading the unknown
Finally feeling the breeze
Of freedom, love and a reality
Above and beyond
All that is gloomy, dark and obsolete
Where life is fresh as a daisy
A real fantasy
Full of fragrance and beauty
And reminds me that life
Moves on slowly and gradually
Towards a resplendent glory.
The girl on fire
By Anoosha Khalid
Sitting by the warm, glowing fire,
She looked at the dancing flames.
She thought about the things that were happening in her life.
She glanced at the fire again; it was fading.
She felt the same inside her,
where her real self was dying,
buried under a thousand screams.
Her eyes heavy, she watches the burning element.
Then, suddenly, it lives up and burns so bright that her eyes can’t take it no more.
She closes her eyes. She sees herself, coming alive,
rising from the cliff she has just fallen off.
She flies until she reaches the sky and then she flashes a smile
which shines so luminous that the world lights up.,
Weak
By Asma Zainab
They say the pen
Is mightier than the sword,
Yet she felt weaker,
More vulnerable
With every verse
That she wrote
Lost
By Maryum Tayyab
My mind caulked
Looking around,
I espied the ghosts again.
Their chutzpah haunted me,
Searching for a carapace,
I found none!
They finagled everything,
A coterie of them
I blinked my eyes,
Once,
Twice,
The sight did not change.
Asphyxiating, scorching, menacing,
Like rhythmic pulse,
Behind a bruise.
I was lost,
Among the ghosts,
Of wasted years, that haunted me!
