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A Thomas Hawkins Jul 2010
Love and lust are fickle things
oft bought and sold for diamond rings
Sometimes confused one for each other
although not twins they could be brothers

I've tasted both and have to say
there has to be a better way
Connections made both near and far
could lead me to anam cara

A stronger bond that knows no end
anam cara is my soul friend
One who loves the essence of me
who opens my eyes that I might see

Who challenges me to look at myself
to read every book that sits on my shelf
My anam cara, my souls friend
awaits for me, round lifes next bend.
You are my "Anam Cara".
The eternal friend of my soul.
This we share together
is ancient and is whole.

We have no secrets,
each others light we share.
No time or distance can sever
this bond we have declared.

Our friendship is open.
Our trust is complete.
Our souls radiate together
as we accept one another
with no tarnish of deceit.
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
Dedicated to Retrit - My Rena - Friend of my soul

www.changefulstorm.blogspot.com
judy smith Apr 2015
The Pakistan Fashion Design Council in collaboration with Sunsilk presented the fourth and final day of the eighth PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week. Indeed the 8th PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week marked the twelfth fashion week platform initiated by the Pakistan Fashion Design Council [with eight weeks of prêt-à-porter and four of bridal fashion] and was a direct manifestation of the Council’s commitment to sustainability and discipline within the business of fashion and the facilitation of Pakistan’s retail industry. Indeed #PSFW15 endeavoured to define and present trends for 2015, focusing specifically on fashion for the regions’ long hot summer months. Day-4 featured High-Street Fashion shows by the House of Arsalan Iqbal, Erum Khan, Chinyere and Hassan Riaz and designer prêt-à-porter shows by Sana Safinaz, Republic by Omar Farooq, Syeda Amera, Huma & Amir Adnan, Sania Maskatiya and HSY.

Speaking about the PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week platform, Chairperson of the PFDC, Sehyr Saigol said: “With the 12th iteration of our critically acclaimed fashion weeks, the PFDC is always working to streamline our prêt-à-porter platform to make the PSFW experience more beneficial for all stakeholders in terms of show experience, exposure and ultimately, retail value. To that end, each year we look inward to find the best possible formats and categories to benefit the very trade and business of fashion. In this vein, we introduced 3 separate categories for Luxury/Prêt, High Street and Textile at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week, giving each entirely separate show space, times, audience exposure and viewing power. Our High Street fashion brands had been given a standalone show time on two separate days as early evening shows and Textile brands a separate dedicated day for Voile shows on Day 3 of PSFW 2015, a measured step to further highlight Pakistan’s textile prowess and high street fashion strength which are of significant importance to national and international fashion markets. As per past tradition, we continue to work closely with all our emerging designers and mainstream brands to help hone their collections for the runway through mentorship by senior PFDC Council members and with retail support through the PFDC’s own stores and network. We are grateful for the committed support of our sponsors and partners which provides us the stimulus to further enhance our fashion week platforms and put forth the best face of Pakistani fashion on a consistent basis.”

“The Sunsilk girl is an achiever, with an air of enthusiasm and positivity. Great hair can give her the extra dose of confidence so with Sunsilk by her side, she is empowered to take on life. Fashion is very close to this aspirational Pakistani girl making the PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week a highly valued platform for us. We recognize PFDC’s efforts to promote the fashion industry and experienced and upcoming talent alike. Sunsilk has been a part of this fantastic journey for 6 consecutive years and continues to shape aspirations, taking contemporary fashion directly to the homes of consumers and encouraging them to script their own stories of success” said Asanga Ranasinghe, VP Home and Personal Care for Unilever Pakistan.

On the concluding day of #PSFW15, the Chairperson of the PFDC Mrs. Sehyr Saigol also made a special announcement on behalf of the Council and its Board Members, where she shared the Council’s plans to establish Pakistan’s first ever craft based Design District, a multi-purpose specialized facility that would assist in developing and enhancing the arts and crafts industries, which are an integral part of Pakistan’s rich cultural legacy. In addition to being a centre for skill improvement and capacity building, the Design District would also house a first of its kind Textile Museum.

The official spokesperson of the PFDC, Sara Shahid of Sublime by Sara also announced the official dates for the Council’s next fashion week, PFDC L’Oréal Paris Bridal Week 2015 which is scheduled to be held from 15th September to 17th September 2015.

Indeed the success of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week continued to prompt private sector associates to grow in their engagement of the platform to launch new marketing campaigns and promotional activities. To this end, the PFDC’s evolving partnership with Sunsilk grew exponentially this year whereby in addition to their title patronage; Sunsilk also took over the coveted PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week red carpet and the Green Room/Backstage, as sponsors. This extension of their support is indeed a manifestation of the brand’s belief in and commitment to the platform. Also in continuation of their support for the platform, Fed Ex – GSP Pakistan Gerry’s International returned to PSFW as the official logistics partner, offering the PFDC a special arrangement for international designer consignments.

PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 was styled by the creative teams at Nabila’s and NGENTS. Light design, set design, sound engineering, video packaging, choreography and show production from concept to construction was by HSY Events, front stage management by Maheen Kardar Ali, backstage management by Product 021, Sara Shahid of Sublime by Sara as the official spokesperson for the PFDC, logistics and operations by Eleventh Experience and photography by Faisal Farooqui and the team at Dragonfly, Hum TV/Hum Sitaray as the Official Media Partners, CityFM89 as the Official Radio Partners with all media management by Lotus Client Management & Public Relations.

High-Street Fashion Shows

The House of Arsalan Iqbal

The afternoon High-Street Fashion Shows on the final day of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 were opened by leading fashion brand The House of Arsalan Iqbal, who showcased a collection titled ‘Devolution Chic’. Inspired by street art across the world by various artists, European high-street trends and technique of quilting, Arsalan Iqbal garnered personal portfolios of graffitists from myriad urban cityscapes such as London, New York, Tokyo, Barcelona and Cape Town, juxtaposed with some unique in-house created patterns including those of Pac-man, calligraphic flourishes and aqua and tangerine bands and circlets. Based in chiffon, the ensembles were molded into voluminous structured silhouettes including draped tunics, edgy jumpsuits and wide palazzos dovetailed with off-white and ecru charmeuse silk jackets created with a revolutionary quilting process. Along with menswear pieces, the collection also included in-house footwear and jewellery made in collaboration with pioneering Karachi-based street artist SANKI.

Erum Khan

Designer Erum Khan followed next and made her PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week debut with ‘The Untainted Shine’. The collection took its inspiration from the sparkle of twinkling stars, a walk on pearl dew in the morning and the enchanted glow which is produced when “a magic wand” is waved around the body, making it glow in a pearlescent white and exhibiting a jewel themed lustre on the body. With neat and straight structured cuts, Erum had used fabrics such as organza combined with silk, 3D flowers, patch work and antique katdanna in a collection which was based in a white colour palette. Trends highlighted in the collection were high waist skirts to button up pants and sheer long dresses. Acclaimed Pakistani musician Goher Mumtaz and his wife Anam Ahmed walked the ramp as the designer’s celebrity showstoppers.

Chinyere

Following Erum Khan, fashion brand Chinyere showcased its Spring/Summer 2015 High-Street collection ‘Mizaj-e-Shahana’ at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015. An ode to the era of the Mughal royalty and their imperial aesthetic, the collection comprised of modern silhouettes and traditional embellishments with organza skirts paired with cropped tops, angarkha-peplum tops with embellished cigarette pants, sheer knee-length jackets paired with structured digital printed bustier-jumpsuits, diaphanous wrap-around boot-cuts and embellished boxy sleeves with soft A-line silhouettes. Chinyere also showcased ten menswear pieces comprising of waistcoats, jodhpurs, knee-length sherwanis paired with gossamer sheer kurtas. The colours used had been divided into a collection of distinctive Mughalesque pastels and jewel tones. The pastels included the classic marble ivory-on-ivory, the bold black, saffron, gold and ivory. The colour segments also included metallic gold and grey sections, with accents of bronze and black. The jewel tones included jade, emerald, ruby and sapphire.

Hassan Riaz

The concluding High-Street fashion show of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 was presented by Hassan Riaz who showcased his ‘Contained Shadows’ collection. Inspired by the diverse facets of the human soul that explore both the dark and light sides of human nature, taking into account yearnings, desires, and anxieties that make us distinctly human, Hassan had based the collection in summer twill, organza and summer denim in shades of blue and white with a gold accent to reflect upon his inspirations. ‘Contained Shadows’ made use of structured and drifting silhouettes, cage crinolines with corsets and bustiers with distinct trends featuring cropped tops, nautical accents, experiments with transparency and patchworks of metal mixed & matched with flowers.

Designer Showcases

Sana Safinaz

PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015’s evening [rêt shows on the fourth and final day was opened by premier designer label Sana Safinaz. Sana Safinaz’s PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week collection was inspired by monochromatic structured looks with pops of color. The collection was based in luxe fabrics such as kattan, silks, fine silk organza and dutches satin in a colour palette majorly based in black and white with strong vibrant pop infusions.
Key trends being highlighted were the oversized T, constructions-clean lines, simplicity of cuts and effective embellishments.

Republic by Omar Farooq

Following Sana Safinaz, acclaimed menswear brand Republic By Omar Farooqshowcased a collection titled ‘Que Sera, Sera!’ (whatever will be, will be!). Omar Farooq had used a variety of luxe fabrics such as suede, linen, chiffon, cotton, cotton silk and wool silk. A collection for all seasons, the ensembles built upon the label’s signature aesthetics while providing a new take on contemporary menswear. Acclaimed media personality Fawad Khan walked the ramp as the brand’s celebrity showstopper.

Syeda Amera

The third Prêt show of the final day of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 was presented by designer Syeda Amera who made her ramp debut with ‘The World of Sea’. Inspired by love for the enchanting underwater, the collection was based in premium quality organza, jersey, nets and silks with delicate cuts and embellishments consisting of beads, sequins and feathers to reflect the collection’s aquatic theme. ‘The World of Sea’ featured a palette of aqua marine, scupa blue, powder pink, grey blue, tequila sunrise yellow, orange and lagoon green with trends that employed skirt layering, frills and ruffles and flared pants.

Huma & Amir Adnan

Following Syeda Amera, Huma & Amir Adnan showcased a joint collection for the first time at a fashion exhibition. Both Huma and Amir feel that as a couple they share their lives and draw synergies and their collection ‘Symphony’ was an epitome of how two people can revolve around the same concept in harmony, while maintaining their individual distinction. Showcasing both menswear and women’s wear at PSFW 2015, Huma and Amir had used a mix of fabrics, textures and embellishments with a complex collection of weaves, prints and embroideries in silk, linen, cotton and microfiber. The color palette included midnight blue, emerald green, wet earth, aubergine, ivory, old paper, turmeric, leaf and magenta. Key trends highlighted in the collection were long shirts, double layered shirts, printed vests and jackets, textured pants, colored shoes for men and layers of multi-textured fabrics, tighter silhouette, vests and jackets for women.

Sania Maskatiya

Designer Sania Maskatiya showcased the penultimate Luxury/Prêt collection of the evening at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015. This S/S ’15, Sania Maskatiya took audiences on a fashion journey to ‘Paristan’ – a place of fairytale whimsy at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week. With a colour palette ranging from the softest shades of daybreak to the deepest hues of nightfall, ‘Paristan’ was a collection of playful, dreamlike prêt ensembles. Featuring luxury fabrics like silk, organza, charmeuse and crepe, the pieces followed the brand’s signature silhouettes, both structured and fluid. Beads and sequins embellished varied hemlines and multiple layering, all set against captivating scenes of mirth and magic. Motifs ranged from the sublime to nonsensical; friendly mice and naughty elves, clocks and teapots, flowering fields and star-filled skies, princesses and ponies.

HSY

Day-4’s finale was presented by acclaimed couturier HSY who showcased a collection titled ‘INK’; a collection inspired by Asia and specifically HSY’s journeys to The Land of the Rising Sun. INK represented the essence of Langkawi, Indonesia, Nagasaki, and Yunnan with natural and indigenous yarns, hand-woven to perfection. The collection featured the traditional dyeing techniques of Shibori from Nagasaki, Batik from Indonesia, and Gara from Sierra Leone infused with mackintosh, saffron, aubergine, eggshell, rosette, indigo and ochre. Created with the scorching sub continental summer in mind, INK channelled versatile hemlines to suit a diversity of younger, older, working men, women and homemakers alike.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-brisbane
deanena tierney Jan 2011
I'd like to share a story,
A sad and tragic little tale,
About a silly, naive woman,
Who was so scared and frail.
Who finally found her anam cara.
Ah! But he lived so far away.
She vowed that she would meet him,
On a not too distant day.
But somewhere in the meantime,
She did meet another beau,
Who treated her so very well,
And a love of sorts did grow.
A love that offered comfort,
A safe place to lay her head,
And she began to wonder,
If she should stay with him instead.
But there was always a nagging,
A pulling , if you will,
And without her anam cara,
Her soul would not be still.
After so much time had passed,
She wrote to him to say,
"I really want to meet you now,"
"Could you come down my way?"
And she waited for many months,
But anam cara, he never replied,
She later learned, she'd waited too long,
Her anam cara had died.
The lesson of this fable friend:
Take a chance...and do not wait!
If you waste time, you just might find,
That you made your choice too late!
Amanda Mar 2017
The nights breeze flows through my window.
It kissess my skin as i lay upon my bed.
My thoughts recollect to the night of being blessed with Anam cara, a night mirroring this one.
I yearn for another night like that.
More so a life like that, for having an Anam cara is to be home.
And i so long to be home.
Janette Aug 2012
Wicked.....hovers,
Sleek, against heart’s beat;


Breath of night
Hot, skin-blushed flesh
Tongue-tingled, forged upon steel;


Black satin shivers beneath wildfire lips;
Slow danced in sweetened heat,
Writhing beneath the shimmer-gleam;


Tongues tie wings bruised with ecstasy
Sighed against masculine,
Wearing me wet....
An English Sonnet to Mo Chroi



Mo Chroi, Mo Chroi. My dearest guide through life.

You keep this fool alive, safe and sound.

I regret, Mo Chroi, I have lived amongst such strife.

And to you my friend, it seems peace I have not found.

Your voice I do evoke, for I am lost.

I have strayed off the path and into the dark, cold night.

Wisdom and Intuition, both thrown aside and I have paid the highest cost.

Everything I do now, Mo Chroi, is now a futile fight.

Please come back to me, Mo Chroi, I feel like such a stranger.

Would you even recognize me now? It's been days, years.

Loneliness, it would seem, has let in danger.

As time goes by without you, Mo Chroi, I have no company but tears.

Mo Chroi, Mo Chroi. Happiness you're now bound.

Mo Chroi, Mo Chroi, my old friend re-found.
You are my anam cara and compass, guiding me through love's winding lanes, each step echoing the ancient tales of our shared longing, forever in my favor.

A promise etched in the constellations, a celestial ode my dearest anam cara.

Our love a whisper carried by Dublin's winds, reaching across time.

The stars themselves bear witness to our timeless bond.

My heart beats with you, a rhythm woven into the fabric of our shared existence.

Each pulse, a whispered promise across time and space, echoing through the chambers of longing.
For CBM of Dublin sent with a million kisses
ANAM CARA
( Soul Friend )

the sun bursts
into the tiny room
seating itself on the sofa

the water boils
whistles impatiently
waiting for the human to make tea

she feels like an object
in a room full of objects
an object cursed with consciousness

milk gone sour
out of cigarettes
impossible to live without cigarettes

dashes barefoot
to the opening shops
out of her favourite brand

an impossibly old man
almost a living cartoon
turns the handle of a barrel *****

as if they had
being beamed down
from another century

the young Irishman
(she had heard him talking to)
the monkey in the red fez

when he was not
reading Hamsun's
The Hunger

the monkey yanking at
his manacled left foot
when he wasn't dancing

"Ahhh Anam Cara!"
he comforts the monkey
"Me monkey too in Chinese Zodiac!"

The Merry Widow Waltz
wafting above a tree
its music entangled in its branches

the barrel *****
erupts incongruously into
Abba of all things

she watches the Irishman
now from her bedroom window
a figure trapped in a painting

he reads all day
until the light declines
to help him

she wonders at what thoughts
roam inside his head
what images grow there

dusk comes quickly
as if it's in a hurry
to get day done

tiny stars nail the night
to the frozen sky
before morning tears it down

the Irishman
observes the lights go on
in all the windows  

he appears to be
outside of time
she wishes she had spoken to him

"Ahhh Anam Cara!"
she mimics his voice
comforting herself

not knowing what
the words mean
her voice touching their tenderness

he leaves
his Hunger behind him
on the bench

she pockets it
falls asleep reading it
dreaming of him

*

This was a park in Rotterdam as the evening declined and night came on...I was a very lonely young man. I was reading Knut Hamsun's THE HUNGER and just letting life stream past me as if I were a rock in a river. Then a barrel ***** with a monkey hove into sight and sound. I had never thought to have encountered such a thing as I had only seen them in films and it was as if it had squeezed through some wormhole and escaped into this future. It played all operetta interspersed with the hits of the day so surprising to have the Merry Widow one moment and then Dancing Queen the next. The old man looked as if he had been sculpted from pure sadness as did his monkey who wore a red fez and a dashing scarlet waistcoat. The incongruity of meeting a dancing manacled monkey dressed in human attire was not lost on me. It was like being in a scene from The Third Man and I expected to glimpse Mr. Lime at any moment as the night came on.

In the morning a barefooted woman from one of the flats across the road came and got some cigs and milk and stopped to look at me as I talked to the sad monkey in Irish. She smiled fleetingly and dashed back to her home. I had a sudden flash that maybe she was my soul mate and we were doomed to miss each other in that one mad moment. So I imagined her loneliness in her room and my loneliness in this park and how we we would never encounter each other ever again. And so my soul mate was to be this poor monkey as if we both recognised that we were both tied to this mysterious moment by a fake gold chain that let us dance but never escape the ***** grinder. I forgot the book when I was told the park was closing and the man and his monkey had long gone. I still had not finished it and it was only years later that I finally got around to its final pages.
brandon nagley May 2015
I seek not for one to penetrate me in intimacy's form,
I quest for one to pervade mine entity!!!!!
brandon nagley Feb 2016
i.

Forby thou art not,
I quiver from the
Cold; mine heart
Is running rapid,
There's anguish
In mine soul.

ii.

I wail out of mine
Bones, mine grave
Is looking close, I
Implore for thee,
Mine Jane, mine
Sweet. I implore
One day, thy eye's
I'll meet.

iii.

On the emptied
Street's of purgatory,
Mine sandal's art worn;
I beseech for just one kiss,
But there's nothing, mine heart doth burn.

iv.

Though through these trial's
And Tribulation's, I shalt
Hath patience; whilst I
Get bitten, by the demon's
I have been smitten. Ourn
Affamour shalt break down
Door's, wherein hell shalt
Shatter, we shalt reach the
Shores, O' I plore for thou.

v.

Mine eyeball's art sinking in, is this death somehow?
Mine body and limbs now doth trow; it's weathering
Away, I'm hanging on tight; I prayest thou canst saveth
Me, by the end of the night. And queen if I goeth, please
Knoweth mine amulet belongeth to thee, I wilt forever
Looketh down, upon thine crown, mine empress; mine
Queen.



©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Forby- is archaic for near.
Beseech means- beg... Same as implore pretty much.
Affamour- is a word I made up, it means (affectionate amour') or affectionate love....
Plore- also means beseech or beg. Archaic tongue.
Trow- means think or believe...
brandon nagley Oct 2015
( old Irish version)

i. Queen Jane, tá lá atá inniu an lá, an dara bliain mí ourn.

ii. Queen jane, looketh mé ar aghaidh chuig eternity leat.

iii. Queen Jane, ealaín muid mar an gcéanna á s.

iv. Queen Jane, ar feadh an tsaoil chomh maith le; Infinity.

v. Queen Jane, sonas neverending suthain.

vi. Queen Jane, tá a chruthú bás a fháil le sciathán ar síoda.

vii. Queen Jane, gan teorainn flyeth againn ar an Cosmos.

viii. Queen jane, amour ourn 'láidir, TIS lánmhaith.

ix. Féadfaidh na spéir s cairde dúinn, le toast.

x. Dhá mhí sona, an anam mianach, Jane mianach, mianach Reyna.


( English version)

i. Queen Jane, today is the day, ourn second month anniversary.

ii. Queen jane, I looketh forward to an eternity with thee.

iii. Queen Jane, we art the same being's.

iv. Queen Jane, a lifetime plus; infinity.

v. Queen Jane, perpetual neverending happiness.

vi. Queen Jane, immortal creation's with wing's of silk.

vii. Queen Jane, boundless we flyeth the Cosmos.

viii. Queen jane, ourn amour' is strong, tis upmost.

ix. May the heaven's grace us, with a toast.

x. Happy two month's, mine soul, mine Jane, mine reyna.



©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)
©Lonesome poet's poetry/hari and Reyna poetry.
deanena tierney Dec 2010
You are my anam cara, my soul's friend.
Who knows me from beginning to end.
Your every word reaches out to me,
You see what the others can not see.
Who holds me close though far away,
And within your arms I hope to stay.


You're the warm slippers
I wear all the time,
The inspiration for almost
every rhyme,
The hot cup of cocoa,
that warms my hands,
The knowing look no one
else understands,
The old favorite song
I sing in my head,
The fluffy comforter
I have on my bed,
The view I see when
I'm on my swing,
The song that plays
when I can't sing,
The warmth on my face
from the great sun,
The quickened sleep
when the day is done,
The first one I want
to tell about my day,
The confident voice
when I just can't say.
The friendly hand
that calms my feet,
The reason my heart
still wants to beat.
The face I see sitting
there by me,
In dreams beneath
the poetry tree.
The one who reaches out
to break my fall,
Who hears every scream,
whisper, or call.


You are my anam cara, my soul's friend.
Who knows me from beginning to end.
Your every word reaches out to me,
You see what the others can not see.
Who holds me close though far away,
And within your arms I hope to stay.
To be continued..................
Tiana Jan 2020
I love you.
I love only you.
I want you.
Only you.
Why can't you see that?
Why can't you feel the way I do?
I love you so much that it's hard to let you go.
I can't let you go.
You are my world.
I want it to stay that way.
I want to be able to kiss and tell u how much I love you but I can't.
I'm just unlucky enough not to have you.
I love you more than I have ever loved anyone else.
It not easy to move on.
I don't want to.
I need you.
I choose you.
But you don't choose me.
No matter how much I'm begging myself  to move on,I can't.
Why can't you see that?
No one will ever love you the way I did. Never.
And I can't love anyone else like I loved you. They are simply not you.
I don't want a man. I want you.
But we don't always get what we want.
If God gave me one wish I would ask him to give you the ability to love me.
If you gave us a chance I will show you how beautiful our love story can be.
Everything I have I wanna spend it on you. My love, my life, my everything is for you.
I want you. Your hugs. Your kisses. Your lips. You. I want all of you. Every flaw and every imperfection I want it all. Every beauty every gem you posses within I want them all. The beauty and the nightmare let me share it with you. Let it be us. For I love you more that the moon loved the night. I don't care if you got a few broken pieces I'll fix them up with mine no matter the hurt it gives. Through good times and bad times I choose you, I want you.
Here I am loving you so much but there you are telling me to move on.
How can I?
You tell me it's not possible.
You just can't love me.
Move on!!!!
But I  can't!! I don't want too.
I still wish the impossible will happen.
Though it hurts like hell.
Breaks me in two.
Burns my heart.
Waiting is agony.
But I still wanna face it for you.
This love I feel it's too much.
It's so much. It's more than what I have ever felt. I don't know how to control it. It's controlling me.
You say move on,
How can I move on when you bring out the best in me. You make me feel safe. My whole sanity is with you. I love the way you look at me. You see me for me. That's what I want.
People say love yourself. Know your worth. you don't need him.
I do. I do love myself.
I know my worth. I know I'm all worthy of your love and you are all worthy of mine.
In your eyes I've seen the image of me. I've seen how you have seen me. And the way you've  seen me is what I am. The real me. This is what I deserve. I deserve to be loved for who I am because I am a woman who has made lots of mistakes but still worthy of love. And that's how you see me. Everyone else only seen me at my most beautiful times and all my achievements.  So they love me for that. But you are the only person who knows me inside out. The real full entire human being I am everything you know. And yet you see me so beautiful the way I deserve to be seen.
Then how can I not love you. How can I want someone else when you are all I crave for.
I tried my best to make you love me. A few scratches on my skin, a few pieces  of my heart fell but yet I'm fighting my way past all the voices that scream "move on!!"
It's not easy.
No one will ever understand this pain.
You are my best friend. My ******* hero. My angel. My life. My Anam cara ( Meaning: A person with whom you can share your deepest thoughts, feelings and dreams with your soul friend)
I can't just move and start over again it's not easy in this wicked world.
When I was wondering with a broken heart and trust you found me and fixed me. Like that you got glued to my heart. I can't take you away. Then all the pieces you fixed will fall off again.
I don't want to trust another and get hurt again. I've been through enough.

I am the dark sky and you are my moon. You light me up so bright and made me beautiful. I was just a dark cloudy sky but then you came and lit me with your beautiful glow. You filled my sky with stars as you brought out the best in me. No one will ever understand how important the moon is in the night sky.

But it's sad that the moon doesn't like the sky. Every morning when the sky woke up The moon was gone. The sky  had to let the hot sun shine and light her up. The sun was nice but not all the time. Not like the moon. It couldn't compare to the peace the moon brought. The sun loved the sky. It loved to make the sky bright but mornings aren't peaceful at the night. The sun didn't paint the sky with its stars or any gifts. But the moon did. The sun simply shined when the sky was happy and bright but the moon it shined when the sky was sad. No matter how many dark clouds covered the sky the moon could simply take it away. But some days when the moon was gone the sky cried. she  cried cause she was alone in her darkness. She cried for the moon because she knew the moon didn't love her back. He was probably shinning somewhere else. For no sun could make the sky shine on a rainy day. Then again the moon would show up and the rain would stop. The sky will shine. All dark clouds are gone. The sky knew she could never have the moon , he was there simply for a reason. But she couldn't help wishing for the impossible.  Wishing that the moon will forever be hers. She has heard little children say that everything is possible but having the moon wasn't one of them. But she couldn't leave the moon because the sky was incomplete without him. So with a broken heart she let him be. But at the same time she was happy because as long as she had the moon she was okay and nothing can make her dark.

You are my moon.
And I,
I'm the sky.
But just not yours.
Like the moon can never be the sky's.

I hope to die and wake up in another world where you are mine and I am yours.

Till that goodbye.
A simple rant to my cupcake
In Dublin's mist-kissed streets, we wander,
Two souls entwined, hearts aflame,
Anam cara, whispered by ancient stones,
A love deeper than the Liffey's flow.

I. Dawn's Embrace

At sunrise, we meet by Ha'penny Bridge,
Where copper pennies shimmer on water,
Your eyes, twin pools of mossy green,
Hold secrets only Dublin's cobbles know.

II. Whispers in Temple Bar

In Temple Bar's lively hum, we dance,
Fiddles and laughter weave our tale,
Your laughter, a melody of joy,
Echoes through centuries of poets' dreams.

III. Trinity's Library of Love

Beneath Trinity's ancient arches,
We read love letters etched in oak,
Your touch, a parchment of longing,
Pages turned by winds from distant shores.

IV. Stolen Kisses on Grafton Street

Grafton Street, where buskers serenade,
Our stolen kisses taste of rain and tea,
Your lips, like Dublin's cobblestone alleys,
Hold the promise of forevermore.

V. Cliffs of Howth, Our Sacred Cliff

On Howth's cliffs, we stand as one,
Wind-whipped and salt-kissed,
Your heartbeat, a rhythm of tides,
Pulls me closer to the edge of eternity.

VI. Guinness Pints and Shared Dreams

In snug pubs, we raise our Guinness pints,
To love, to laughter, to Dublin's magic,
Your whispers, like foam on stout,
Intoxicate my senses, leave me spellbound.
For CBM a of Dublin- sent with a million kisses 💋🦋
be my soul friend
my anam cara
play my water harp
my water heart
make music of me
sing me back to
the way I was
the way I can be
the way I am with you

friend, be my soul
my anam cara
make of me a cantata
a rondo
a dance flamenco
flame me back to
the way I was
the way I can be
the way I am with you

soul, befriend me
be my anam cara
make of me a garden
a stroll through Love
give me back to
the way I was
the way I can be
the way I am


c. 2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater
My concern : the Soul. Do not let the burden weigh on you.

Today, unexpectedly, I found peace. I know you well enough to know and believe in the unexpected - the unwanted even. My mind will not sit still. You know me. You know that for me, understanding is key. Knowledge is important but we must open our hearts with the opening of our minds. Ideas may change and shift. Most know change is an elementary concept that must be grasped. Some things will forever stay in our hearts. Humanity's quest for freedom and love will always be there to enlighten the star-less Sky. I pray we are there at the footsteps of our heavenly home. I dream of a place where a peaceful paradise is above any fear. Through any calamity we can find the place if we first look within and embrace ourselves. We must then reach out our hand to another and whisper, "You Are Loved!"
The world may laugh now but one day they will look back in Thanksgiving and Blessing.

We are each called on a personal journey. Here is where yours begins. Take the first baby steps, and then - always smiling - never look back my soul friend!
Mo Anam cara is Celtic for my soul friend, who can be and become anyone or anything! We only have one world and we need to take care of it and eachother
Samantha Feb 2018
si vidissent iam levis flammae desiderio et viderunt affluentiam rebus essem corruptas meos impetus et sciebat quid patientia perficere posset mihi licuit in minori mundo crudeli unquam fuit laetior anima mea
Emma Nov 16
For she had not accepted defeat,
nor surrendered to the wanderlust of it all,
trapped in the thick fog of her fear—
a labyrinth of shadows where her voice
dissolved into silence.

Metamorphosing, she carved a hollow,
a space to call home.
Fueled by chemicals measured in increments,
their sterile precision slicing through
the feral ache of her longing.
A hiding place she had conjured
as a child, weaving it from ashes and remorse,
where moths flitted to their amber deaths,
the bulb’s hiss a quiet menace,
its danger humming through the stillness.

Courage tasted metallic, sharp
on her tongue, mingling with the salt
of blood smeared on her fingertips.
Another night sprawled open—
her hair tumbling like restless waves,
her thoughts clutching at themselves,
an ouroboros of lamentation.

Sorrow, a seed lodged deep in her womb,
sprouted thorns that pierced her silence.
Shadows stretched their forgotten forms,
etched in the plot of her life—
a scratch, a swirl, a jagged dance
splattered across canvas,
each brushstroke a hymn to her unraveling.

The ghosts pressed in,
whispering their fractured violence.
No one listened. No one heard.
She knelt, crushed petals
beneath the weight of the world.
“Put the broken pieces back,”
she begged,
“reshape the sharp edges
of my disappointments.”

At the brink of dawn,
the angels sang to her—
their voices a river of grief and duende,
swelling, sweeping,
washing her raw and clean.

He was her anam cara,
the raindrops kissed on her raven's beak,
moonstones refracting fractured light.
He was the breath
that held time still,
slipping into her chest,
her heart a wistful drumbeat.
Luna Pan Apr 20
hot, salty july night
you and me in this greek tavern
moon is high but so are we
dancing, laughing, kissing like we are gypsies
you with your wine, me with my martini
we are drinking but we are drinking each other's sorrow
your orpheic mouth on mine, my limerence is on you
my Anam Cara
all the things you'd do to me in this greek tavern
Mark Kelley Feb 2019
“ Sometimes “                  

Sometimes the ship sails
    Deep into the night
We wave goodbye but it’s
      Long gone out of sight
Sometimes our dreams
       Come crashing to the ground
Sometimes our tears fall
        And never make a sound

Sometimes I’d wonder
  If the night would ever fall
I’d look for starlight
     Shadows on the wall
Sometimes I’d pray for
Mornings brand new day
Sometimes I'd know that
      Love will find a way

Lead me Anam Cara

Sometimes I laugh
  Just before i cry
And keep on fighting
      Though never knowing why
Sometimes I look through
       Scrapbooks of the past
Sometimes it feels like
      I’ve found my home at last  

Sometimes I’m running
      Blindly down the lane
Singing wildly
    Dancing in the rain
Sometimes I’m lost in
  A whirlwind of our time
Sometimes I feel like
I’m paying for my crimes

Teach me Anam Cara

Sometimes I feel like I’m
     Walking on the moon
I sing to the heavens
     But am woeful out of tune
Sometimes I’m holding
A winner in my hand
Sometimes it seems like
   I’ve found my place to stand

Sometimes the light comes
   Just before the dawn
My feet are planted
     But I must be moving on
    Sometimes it seems that I’m
    Swallowed by the tide
Sometimes I pray that
   God is on my side

Free me Anam Cara

Sometimes the ship sails
Deep into the night
Sometimes this dog
is always in the fight
Sometimes my love is
Lost along the way
Sometimes I've said
All there is to say
Satan Nov 2010
Bloodmark, swords and damnation.
I fought for the lost souls of the nations.
With such unbearable desire and passion.

Fuil ar mo aghaidh....

Secrets of three, veiled yet unhidden.
Lights upon the earth to cast away the forbiddens.
Pain and sorrow to deaden.

M'anam.......
Forget thy sins not...
Unreveal thy secrets not...

Mo chroí a fháil ar bhealach...
For God love ist divine...
To those who dwell in His Shrine...

Dorchadas fháil bás...
Darkness finds death...

Solas teacht ar an saol
Light finds life...
Thanks to Keiran and Galman for the irish gaelic translations.....
fiachra breac May 2018
is mo croí theanga í,
is an t-anam ó t-am dearmadta
gur ní cuimhnigh mé.

tá sé bhriste 's,
neamhiomlán,
ach is breá liom í fos

mar sin,
is mo bhaile í
agus tiocfaidh an lá
nuair tá mo theanga agam
my broken heart

it is my heart's language,
it is the soul forgotten in time,
that i cannot remember.

it is broken and,
incomplete,
but i love it still

because
it is my home,
and the day is coming,
when i will have my tongue.
--------------------------------------
I feel at home in a language my ancestors lost. I feel safe in words that don't come easy. I found peace and hope and healing in the seemingly strange sounds of my native tongue, and I will reclaim it, for myself, and my peers, and the generations who follow, because it is beautiful and it is ours.
Donall Dempsey Nov 2017
THE ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT
      RICHARD MILHOUS NIXON

( for John Smith )

It was...
Oct 5th - 1970.

A Monday.


The day had gone
from dry to drizzle to

wet.


It was the 278th day
of the year...only

87 days remaining
until the end of the year.

I knew I had to act now.
It was now...or never.

Time? I forget the time.
Time was standing still.

Huge clouds
menaced the horizon

impersonating an Armada
of Spanish Galleons.

Full sail ahead then.
I took a step into my future.

The smiling President drawing
nearer and nearer.

In Nass
the drenched crowed cheered.

In Newbridge now
flocks of children chase the car

like he was some
kinda Piper from Hamelin.

I kept a close eye on
the secret service

all dressed in the same suit
looking like clones

of one another
talking into their sleeves.

My gaze searches and settles
upon him

like the cross-hairs
of a ******'s rifle.

Sure he had called his setter
King Timahoe

after where his folks came from
another American looking for his roots

bolstering the Irish-American vote.

And now here he was
the man himself

in person
the 37th President.

Irish colleens dancing
upon a make-shift stage

in the square
of Kildare.

He's here oh so near
I can see the pores of his skin

a bead of sweat trickles into
that infamous Nixon grin.

Dare I do it now?
My hair falling into my eyes.

My mind flashes back to
1729

when his Quaker ancestors
fled the Emerald Isle.

Three centuries pass by in a second and
we're here

in the middle of
The Vietnam War

and he speaks of
"a passion for peace...preventing war...building peace."

Yeah yeah...sure sure!

Carpet bombing Cambodia
the famous Nixon duplicity

the "credibility gap" opening
between what he says and what he does.

Oh there are protests
he has 5 eggs hurlers.

"Splatsplatsplatsplat and splat!"
Only one near hit.

And one man protesting
the price of a pint

up'd( for the occasion )to
one shilling and jaysus seven pence.

What's the world
coming to?

School kids waving
their plastic( in slow mo )

American flags
on little plastic sticks.

I raise my flag.
I raise my...voice

shooting my mouth off
with a great shout:

'TRICKY DICKY! TRICKY DICKY!
WOULD YOU BUY A USED CAR FROM THIS MAN!"

Several secret service scowl.
My words hit him...Nixon frowns.

Character assassination.

Mr. McCann
aka "The Bicycle Man!"

curses me
in Irish.

After all he is
my Irish teacher.

D'anam leis an diabhal...Ó Diomasaigh!"
("Your soul to the devil...Dempsey!")

"THE TIME HAS COME TO CALL
A ***** A ****** SHOVEL..."

I yell as
I get a clip around the ear.

McCann holds his hand
over my mouth.

Then suddenly Nixon
is no longer

there.

The hurled words
disappear into the air.

Us school boys
***** damply back to double Maths.

The De La Salle
Academy looming up before us.

Mr. McCann
hoovers near.

I cover both
my ears.

But he only tousles
my hair.

"Ahhh mo amadán beag cróga!"
( "Ahhh my brave little fool!")

"Maith an bhuachaill...maith an bhuachaill!"
( "Good boy...good boy!")

He grins.
Slips me a sixpence.

I sing the new Led Zep
only released that day.

"So now you'd better stop and rebuild all your ruins,
for peace and trust can win the day despite of all your losing."

Being only 12
I had done what had to be done.

My political life
had only just begun.
The long forgotten "never-to-be-forgotten" visit made to Hodgestown near Timahoe in the county of Kildare back in the day as we leave the Sixties sadly behind us for the austerity of the '70's and the "Yes we can" of the Sixties begins to loose its lusture.
The Timahoeans are not exactly proud of giving the world Mr. Nixon and stay quite quiet about it. The Kennedy visit was the golden one and Clinton and Reagan had theirs but Tricky Dicky's one has faded into the fog of history.

"Jessamyn West, who has written so eloquently about the background of our family, has said, the Quakers have a passion for peace. My mother was a pacifist. My grandmother was a pacifist. Jessamyn's mother was, her grandmother, her grandfather, going back as far as we know."

President Nixon in the Timahoe graveyard.

Don't know what happened to him then!


"The time has come to call a ***** a ****** shovel. This country is in an undeclared and unexplained war in Vietnam. Our masters have a lot of long and fancy names for it, like escalation and retaliation, but it is a war just the same." - James Reston.


"So now you'd better stop and rebuild all your ruins,
for peace and trust can win the day despite of all your losing."

Led Zeppelin 111 - Immigrant Song.
deanena tierney Sep 2015
Today I place you where you belong
Not where I wan't you to be
For the lie which has held me hostage
Now in truth has set me free

T'was never a word that you uttered
Nor any gift that you had shown
That made me hold u so exalted
No. That blame is all my own

Funny how the brain can ration out
a senseless amount of care
Giving the most to one so common
And the least to one so rare.

You were never my Anam cara
Not my soulmate, nor " the one"
Just another man, of many men
When it was all said and done.

And so...

Today I place you where you belong
Not where I wan't you to be
For the lie which has held me hostage
Now in truth has been set free
fiachra breac Jan 2018
bláthanna ghorma,
spéir dearg,
anam corcra.
Táim ag an foghlaim na Gaeilge. Is é mo chéad iarracht véarsa a scríobh i nGaeilge. Níl ach focail amhain agam, ach is maith liom é.
Rachel Sep 2019
What pains you
Can you outrun your pain
Epictetus tells us we are souls carrying a corpse
Go dtuga Dia Suaimhneas da anam, Roisin Dubh
    (May God give peace to his soul, Black Rose)
Chasten with this evolutionary process enigmatic in nature
Donall Dempsey Nov 2019
THE ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT
      RICHARD MILHOUS NIXON

( for John Smith )

It was...
Oct 5th - 1970.

A Monday.

It was the 278th day
of the year...only

87 days remaining
until the end of the year.

I knew I had to act now.
It was now...or never.

Time? I forget the time.
Time was standing still.

Huge clouds
menaced the horizon

impersonating an Armada
of Spanish Galleons.

Full sail ahead then.
I took a step into my future.

The smiling President drawing
nearer and nearer.

In Nass
the drenched crowed cheered.

In Newbridge now
flocks of children chase the car

like he was some
kinda Piper from Hamelin.

I kept a close eye on
the secret service

all dressed in the same suit
looking like clones

of one another
talking into their sleeves.

My gaze searches and settles
upon him

like the cross-hairs
of a ******'s rifle.

Sure he had called his setter
King Timahoe

after where his folks came from
another American looking for his roots

bolstering the Irish-American vote.

And now here he was
the man himself

in person
the 37th President.

Irish colleens dancing
upon a make-shift stage

in the square
of Kildare.

He's here oh so near
I can see the pores of his skin

a bead of sweat trickles into
that infamous Nixon grin.

Dare I do it now?
My hair falling into my eyes.

My mind flashes back to
1729

when his Quaker ancestors
fled the Emerald Isle.

Three centuries pass by in a second and
we're here

in the middle of
The Vietnam War

and he speaks of
"a passion for peace...preventing war...building peace."

Yeah yeah...sure sure!

Carpet bombing Cambodia
the famous Nixon duplicity

the "credibility gap" opening
between what he says and what he does.

Oh there are protests
he has 5 eggs hurlers.

"Splatsplatsplatsplat and splat!"
Only one near hit.

And one man protesting
the price of a pint

up'd( for the occasion )to
one shilling and jaysus seven pence.

What's the world
coming to?

School kids waving
their plastic( in slow mo )

American flags
on little plastic sticks.

I raise my flag.
I raise my...voice

shooting my mouth off
with a great shout:

'TRICKY DICKY! TRICKY DICKY!
WOULD YOU BUY A USED CAR FROM THIS MAN!"

Several secret service scowl.
My words hit him...Nixon frowns.

Character assassination.

Mr. McCann
aka "The Bicycle Man!"

curses me
in Irish.

After all he is
my Irish teacher.

D'anam leis an diabhal...Ó Diomasaigh!"
("Your soul to the devil...Dempsey!")

"THE TIME HAS COME TO CALL
A ***** A ****** SHOVEL..."

I yell as
I get a clip around the ear.

McCann holds his hand
over my mouth.

Then suddenly Nixon
is no longer

there.

The hurled words
disappear into the air.

Us school boys
***** damply back to double Maths.

The De La Salle
Academy looming up before us.

Mr. McCann
hoovers near.

I cover both
my ears.

But he only tousles
my hair.

"Ahhh mo amadán beag cróga!"
( "Ahhh my brave little fool!")

"Maith an bhuachaill...maith an bhuachaill!"
( "Good boy...good boy!")

He grins.
Slips me a sixpence.

I sing the new Led Zep
only released that day.

"So now you'd better stop and rebuild all your ruins,
for peace and trust can win the day despite of all your losing."

Being only 12
I had done what had to be done.

My political life
had only just begun.
***

The long forgotten "never-to-be-forgotten" visit made to Hodgestown near Timahoe in the county of Kildare back in the day as we leave the Sixties sadly behind us for the austerity of the '70's and the "Yes we can" of the Sixties begins to loose its lusture.
The Timahoeans are not exactly proud of giving the world Mr. Nixon and stay quite quiet about it. The Kennedy visit was the golden one and Clinton and Reagan had theirs but Tricky Dicky's one has faded into the fog of history.

"Jessamyn West, who has written so eloquently about the background of our family, has said, the Quakers have a passion for peace. My mother was a pacifist. My grandmother was a pacifist. Jessamyn's mother was, her grandmother, her grandfather, going back as far as we know."

President Nixon in the Timahoe graveyard.

Don't know what happened to him then!

"The time has come to call a ***** a ****** shovel. This country is in an undeclared and unexplained war in Vietnam. Our masters have a lot of long and fancy names for it, like escalation and retaliation, but it is a war just the same." - James Reston.

"So now you'd better stop and rebuild all your ruins,
for peace and trust can win the day despite of all your losing."

Led Zeppelin 111 - Immigrant Song.
fiachra breac Sep 2019
who gave you the right
to collect other people’s misery?
heartaches and tears,
are not yours to own.

don’t you dare take my name,
it is yours no more;
not my life, not my soul,
not my home.

tá m’ainm! tá mo bhaile! tá m’anam seo!

with sweet voice,
and deft fingers,
you rewrite the pages,
to suit some plan of your own.

but my name? and his? and his?
our county, our place, our home?

stand upon your lonely ridge,
gaze down towards this fort,
and see:

taking others’ names is dangerous
when you don’t know what they mean.
Madainn mhath, mo bhanrigh. Dhùisg d’anam mi.
Fhad ‘s a chaidil sibh ri mo thaobh,
Bha ‘s a’ faireachdainn mi fhin nad bhruadar.
Ach bha mi nas toilichte nuair a dhùisg sibh
Leis gu bheil beatha nas fheàr na na sinn a ‘bruadar còmhla

Good morning, my queen. Your soul woke me up.
While you slept beside me,
I felt myself in your dream.
But I was happier when you woke up
Because life better than what we dreamed.

— The End —