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Aine MacAodha ~ Poetry and Lens

Aine MacAodha

My photo
Omagh, North Ireland, Ireland
Writer/poet,avid photographer with a great interest in Celtic Myths, Mysticism, crystal healing, orbs in photography, Chemtrails, the sky above and the beauty in the Irish landscape . I live in Omagh North of Ireland where the Sperrin Mountains are my inspiration in any season. I have three poetry books published titled 'Where the Three Rivers Meet' and 'Guth An Anam ~Voice of The Soul and my latest Published by Lapwing Press Belfast, 'Landscape of self'~ You can find my links at top of my blog.

Tuesday, 28 February 2017

Aine MacAodha - Poetry and Lens: Mise Eire

Aine MacAodha - Poetry and Lens: Mise Eire: ~ Talk to me of bogs, of blankets on the land. Talk to me of myths you have at your command. Tell me of Cu Chulainn, the hero houn...

Mise Eire


Talk to me of bogs, of blankets on the land.
Talk to me of myths you have at your command.
Tell me of Cu Chulainn, the hero hound of Ulster,
the battles of the Tain Bo and the warriors of Munster,
the progress of the firbolgs. The De danaans on the hill
remind me of our legends of folklore through the quill.
Talk to me of forests, of flora and fauna there.
Talk to me of mountains in Tyrone and in Kildare.
Tell me now of the future of equality in the land.
Speak to me of serenity, so the tribes can understand.

Monday, 27 February 2017

Rossknowlagh Strand ~ poem

Rossknowlagh Strand

It’s late October
the edge of the water
is layered in white foam
an aran scarf curved along
the seas icy grip.
Sand is wintered hard.
Sea far out curls and slaps
on southern winds and I
brace myself for the mile walk.
East wind cuts to the bone
in a place like this,
whips away summers lightness
and reminds me that to enjoy one
I must embrace the other with joy too.
The gulls straggling the shore
find it difficult to stay afloat.
I make faces to the wind as it
carves its grip in my crows feet.
The hotel lights guide me back
back to a warm coffee pot
back to write and my mind
freed from world thoughts
gets to work.

Wednesday, 15 February 2017

Alternatives ~ Poem


Beneath the moons full light
I feel mended
a gansey with a dropped stitch
darned and shapely once again.

When alone on a night like this
i'm not a bit lonely, far from it
I embrace it like some kind of witch.

Had this been a few hundred years ago
I’d be scorned and perhaps
hung from a tree.

Crystals cleanse in the moonlight
their energy renewed and ready
to battle the chakras,

balance the body once again.
When the body is out of kilter
anything can happen.

If the medical world can’t fix it
the alternative is worth a try, isn’t it?

Friday, 21 February 2014

My Ebook published by The Argotist Online. (free to download)

My collection 'Where the Three Rivers Meet' has just been published, get this free to download Ebook from The Argotist Online  Edited by Jeffrey Side.


"Where the Three Rivers Meet" is a collection of poems linguistically evocative of 17th century Irish Gaelic poetry, although written in English. The poems are rich with references and imagery that evoke the mythos of Ireland’s ancient history and Celtic traditions. The landscape is also figured, with an affection and respect, not only for its actuality but also for its vitality and mystery. In some respects, this poetry has a connectedness to the ancient traditions and concerns figuratively expressed in various earth religions, as well as in Celtic Christianity.


Below is a link to the full list of Ebooks published on The Argotist Online.

With thanks to Jeff Side Editor.

list of The Argotists Online Ebooks

Monday, 27 January 2014

Poem. Keepers

First published in A New Ulster ANU issue 10.


Nature collects things
is a hoarder of future finds.
stones on the riverbed
that memorize climate changes
on natures universal calendar
A simple hedgerow in Ireland
layered in various thorn
often reveal ancient things
beneath and around its presence
to a casual walker, a pile of
old stone from a wall badly erected
to others its natures way of
giving birth again to past ways.
often we forget in the moment
our lives so busy.
Nature collects things
even the wind whispers secrets
blown through the centuries
caught in the opened mind
of the one learning to listen.