Home » Poems » Best » M. A. Ceilidh » Best M. A. Ceilidh Poems

Best Poems Written by M. A. Ceilidh

Below are the all-time best M. A. Ceilidh poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | M. A. Ceilidh Poem

Exchange

Sleepless nights are currency

exchanged for nightmares

Too ominous to sleep through

Details | M. A. Ceilidh Poem

Emptiness

You gripped my hips, not my heart
you stoked the fire on my lips, sent me sprawling through an abyss
and left my body tangled in sweat drenched sheets 
alone.
you wove a wrathful web of wantonness, slid your sin down my throat
and left me with a searing thirst, 
emptiness.
you filled me, lathered me with bliss, coated me in a sheer veil
of yearning for boundless carnality,
Salacious.
And now I’ll never find soothe again.

Details | M. A. Ceilidh Poem

Craving a Smoke

I’m craving a smoke

I’m craving a drag, a poisonous and toxic puff of smog

to fill my empty lungs to

pass the time to

feel the burn in my throat. I fill my body with

solitude

and meditate in cramped spaces with no air.

Lightheadedness

I hope one day you find what you are looking for but I still won’t

count my blessings. Despair is

an art

and I

try too hard sometimes to ignore pain.

And other times to fill my lungs with

a kind of tragic beauty

that kills.

I know you too feel the endless bitter burn of existence, I know your

melancholy

Oh too well. I’m in love with my suffering now, are you?

The way it

scratches too soft, too hard, tickles and then subsides. The way it

travels through your veins and insides, fills you with

all sorts of burns and bruises but

I’m just craving a smoke right now.

Details | M. A. Ceilidh Poem

I Am Made Of Rotton Roots

I am made of rotten roots

flush with dead skeleton leaves

when touched, crumble

but moss grows on my rib-cage bones 

and mold covers my heart

where there’s moisture

so something must live in me yet

Details | M. A. Ceilidh Poem

I AM

I am but a single shuddering whisper trapped beneath the shroud,

a lingering fluttering flicker of self indulgent doubt.

I am but a small one, an itty bitty insignificant flake of dust,

among the sunlight.

A little soft, though not soft spoken,

a little daft, a wee bit broken,

much too hardened, yet, too young

to be outspoken 

instead of “spoken for” or

“in love.”

I am but a girl, spirit frayed and bittered hag

softly and constantly being reborn.

Details | M. A. Ceilidh Poem

Soothe Is An Abyss

soothe is an abyss I cannot seem to climb down into.

when I realize I am comfortable I feel uncomfortable .

calamity 

is all my body knows.

this little blue “calming” pill

does little but make one somnolent.

sleep deprivation is torture?

then I am my own castigator

Details | M. A. Ceilidh Poem

Eyes of God

Maybe if I close my eyes long enough
this will all just disappear.
I’ll wake up to the eyes of God and
his voice whispering in my ear.
A dream,
this life, can be so cold and cruel.
A dose of awareness here and there
isn’t quite enough to soothe.
Far away I wander
through valleys of the mind,
to ease my curious wonderings,
to slowly pass the time.
But with this steady rhythm
of the beating of a heart,
I tenderly press my ear to it and
silently fall apart.
How does one so effortlessly
calm my unreserved soul?
Your hands are weaving, through my heart,
webs of solid gold.
Beads of sweat drip down my cheek
and glisten in the sun,
as I bask in the glory of your cool embrace
and enjoy being no one.
And then I look up
into the eyes of my hero,
the soul that my soul once knew.
But I am jerked awake as I fall through
a veil of forgotten past truth.
And here I am again,
stirring in my bed.
Who is this familiar stranger
wrapped inside my head?

Details | M. A. Ceilidh Poem

My Laughs Are Filled With Buckets of Rain

Filled my soul with aching 
to keep my brain from faking 
its joy. 
Torn hearts asunder, I once was filled with wonder 
but now I dread the thunder and 
my laughs are filled with buckets of rain. 
The leaves my palms were built of are wilting with rusty, dusty ash. 
Slighted by the gods’ convictions, uncomfortable with their restrictions 
I became ungoverned by ordinance and unyielding faith. 
My sighs are filled with yawning and yearning, 
my soul’s shrill cries are tossing and turning 
against the wind. 
Soothing is the ice on the capes 
and softly my trembling skin aches 
with the chill 
of snowflakes and numbness.

Details | M. A. Ceilidh Poem

Rainbow Within Our Bones

My heart grew fond of you quickly

your brown golden skin sparkled in the sunlight as we lay side by side

an entrancing and sharp contrast to my melancholy paleness,

sprawled in the grassy field with our fingers entwined

we sang love ballads to the sky.

your eyes were like dark amber jewels 

the brightness of your smile

filled my heart with a kind of desperation for sooth

from the storms of this world and

years later I still imagine us together,

I fancy us running into one another and laughing,

holding on to each other once more,

collecting the different shades of our experience together

and frowning at our ease with which

we allowed the ignorance of society to separate us

simply due to a difference in skin tone,

All the while we each held a rainbow within our bones.

Details | M. A. Ceilidh Poem

Sunday Thinking Cap

I wore my thoughts on my head like a ball cap today

Ready to take off and disregard

or to turn around, tilted in the opposite direction

Easy to grab at, to throw away, to steal,

to sneakily hide a lost trinket underneath.

I am unbalanced like a scale

trying to measure dancers

as they prance about unwavering to any schedule or song.

I am a thrash of discombobulated noises and symphonies,

never harmonizing quite right but still quite beautifully 

Imperfect.

I wore my heart in my hair today, let it ruffle in the wind

allowed the speed of an old beat up car roar its engines

like it was reliving her glory days

and I was alive again.

I hung my past up on the clotheslines in my backyard to dry out,

but it rained and that seems to be the story of my life. 

At the end of the day

my thoughts are all but worn out completely

ready to be chucked away like a sweat drenched Sunday thinking cap.