Ailbhe Eighteen

Ailbhe Eighteen Poems

I remember the day my teacher got really mad,
He embarrassed us all for a fault, not too big
He said calmly but sternly, "Who do you think you are? Do you think your section is the brightest in the college? Shame on students like you..."
And he went on spitting swords right on our face,

You feel the urge to see
Outside your safe zone
the trees
the sky

Come my Master, my Lord
I have kindled my hearth
Drink thy cup with me
The table is laid, prepared


In denial, heartstone
I reject thine plea of forgiveness
Abhorred your tears
Yet mine is unfolding

There were cold needles in my head
Silently wringing down my neck
Then there was a sudden shift
of rain to a sunny day

She had come to hear
Lyre so terrible of critical beats
no sweet melody
nor soft rhythm to soothe her plea

Let me feel the poetry of your heart
Which you cannot write
Let me gather the alphabets of purity and sincerity
Let me hold your weakening hand

I believe in happy endings
"Happily ever after" in a Cinderella story
Rewards and favors on good deeds
A crown to a long lost Prince

One may speculate
Why wont i let myself be drawn
Be drawn to everyone
Tempting to turn the tomato green to red

I forget you everyday
I'm trying to brush off the dust of your shoes,
But I'm keeping your artworks;
your workroom is still the same, unmoved;


Happy to be here
Happy to be near
The universe gave birth to me in heart's day clear
Happy to touch the clean sheets in my room

I was with the moon last night,
I'm with him again tonight;
With all the glittering dots beside;
Lavishing me with delight;


Like a silver gem glittering
On the evergreen grass they're hanging
The wind comes, leaves are swaying
Oh what a nice scenery to hear the cherubs sing

The wide windows of heaven
Bring singing and trumpets' triumphal sound
Angels dance and merry make
With their wings and white hands in the air

Visions towards language deep passion to accord
Over the obsession to words like sword
We want words to say not words that abhor
Every one must say ''play the word''

Who would not fall for you?
Showing a very angelic countenance so true;
Alluring me with those pinkish cheeks;
And happy hands snaked on my hips.

The maiden played with waves,
The angry water rushed up to the graves.
Chased the tiny feet of mettle,
But devour nothing but the teasing sand and pebble.

Eyes were wide opened by the bright window
A day, the days to escape and shallow
From epoch to epoch, always look for
That days subside and the dark realm swore


She was my friend but I was not her friend
I gaped at her and she faded away
I gazed at her and she looked away
I walked by her side but she stride alone

No soul can uncover another soul of beauty
Wrapped in warmth and dignity
Her skyscraper of huge
Building up every day is higher

The Best Poem Of Ailbhe Eighteen

Words Are Swords

I remember the day my teacher got really mad,
He embarrassed us all for a fault, not too big
He said calmly but sternly, "Who do you think you are? Do you think your section is the brightest in the college? Shame on students like you..."
And he went on spitting swords right on our face,
Rubbing more salt to our freshly wounded guts.

Yes, it was our fault;
But there was a very bad misunderstanding
Yet I must say words are swords,
It comes to you and ruin your walls inside;
It wrecks the skyscraper you have been building too long;
It smashes the boxes of beautiful old things you kept.

The two edged swords shining with sharpness comes to you
It has no brain; no heart neither
So it bangs to your walls; to your skyscraper;
To your loads of boxes.

Are your walls strong and resilient?
Can block storms of swords?
Is your skyscraper founded with tough courage and pride?
Enduring rains of insults?
Are you boxes thick and big?
Securing the collection of happy and old memories you always cherished?

Look at me in the eye,
Do not tear like a foolish loser and answer me,
Because as for me, yes!

My walls, my notorious skyscraper, my boxes are founded;
Founded with rocks of firmness, of hardness,
I am invincible, I am the poem, "Invictus"
I am the unbeatable Achilles,
So I endured the swords of words of my mentor.

How about you? I am asking again,
How about my mates that day?
Not everyone is born with such rare courage
Some are weak, just so delicate and sweet and innocent,
Words are swords.

Crashing like waves in the ocean of destruction;
It brings havoc to the quietness and stillness of one in the wilderness
It wrecks the walls of a sweet young girl,
The small building of confidence breaks down
‘Twas build for a long long time,
But ends up to broken bricks of inferiority and deviance in just a few counted seconds
Deviating from the invitation of love, refusing to step into the land of unknown anymore.
The thin boxes cannot contain the swords
Yet the swords keep coming, still making holes of disappointment
Of stress;
Of fear;
Of Self-pity;
Of hopelessness;
Of helplessness;
Holes of depression,
So the thin boxes explode.

The sweet young girl no longer smiles like the new born baby smiles;
No longer laugh like a toddler in the park.

Not everyone has a wall so firm;
Skyscraper so high and strong;
Boxes so thick and secured;

Some are just so sweet and carefree;
Living with a sense of joy;
Of little pride;
A little bit of friendship and of life,
They lead to live,
I say again, words are swords.,

Some are made of glass,
May heavy but breakable
Before one breaks in front of you,
Search yourself and lecture your soul;
Watch your words
Winnow it, sift it;
That it may not damage your fellow.

Be sensitive, not too insensitive,
Live not stepping the shoes of your brethren's;
Not whacking their head;
Not smashing their face either;
Go along with anyone;
But be happy and tactful.

Words are swords,
Like guns, like bomb, like deadly weapons
Causing a flood of blood and tears.

Words are swords,
You won't want to be wounded by it;
You won't like to be a victim of it;
You won't be happy if it destroys you;
‘Cause you will never know if you make it through.

Words are swords like a poisonous potion,
Intoxicating and polluting the clean slate
It circulates through the vein of blood of serenity,
Now it removes the beauty of the soul;
No more stares of pure desire and serenity in the eye;
No more vigor in the body;
In the life.
That's how your words can snatch the life out from anyone

Word are swords,
Do not sharpen your swords;
Do not hone its edges;
But destroy them and make flowers of words;
So pure, so honest, so sincere.

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Ailbhe Eighteen Quotes

Chase not the crowns of the world that will not be enthroned to you at the finish line.

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