web site updates

Just to let you know I have updated my web site with more, "Worth a look sites" found here ~ I will be adding more in due course, Aine x

updates on my web site

Draiocht ~ a poem

                                                                 ~ Oak Lake ~

Draiocht


Magic happens in the cool waters of healing wells
making the journey under clay; to offer up
cures within its life force.

I’ve seen it as winter blends its end of days
into the arrival of spring. On mountains
and boundaried fields as morning mist
vanishes.

Within myself when i forget the world a while
do nothing except listen to the order of things
or stare into space.

Within the lunar cycles when moon phases
stir the spirit in an ancient way; as it passes
on its journey.

Its there too on the faces of new born babies;
reddened from the delicate path taken
from womb to world, dark to light.



First published in Pirene's Fountain.

Luna ~ A poem

Luna

Losing shadows that follow

from these troubled acres

is hard going at times.

When it’s those same shadows

you seek to understand

what it all came down to.

Three in the morning brings relief;

nature is more calmer and cools

to a creaking lullaby.

Some birds sleep sound.

The urban ones

blether through the night.

The moon solemnly gives orders

to orchestrate the night crawlers

on missions. She casts shadows

in dimly lit corners of the globe.

She’ll never be the sun,

blitzing the crops, warming

the shadows.

But she’ll always be the catalyst,

calling you back to the past.

First published on Argotistonline  ~  http://www.argotistonline.co.uk/MacAodha%20poems.htm

Denied

In memory of the family of babies children and adults who are buried in The Bog Meadows area of Miltown Cemetery and throughout the island of Ireland and also to the works of Toni Maguire Queens university Archaeologist, and also thanks to the following pages for the work the do for Cillini.

https://www.facebook.com/irishcillin,

http://celticburialrites.blogspot.com/

Denied

Sister Monica had a special box

sat on her wooden desk beside her cane

her roll book, rosaries and bible.

Collections for the little mites

limbo babies

pagan babies

lost souls

the unbaptised

Nothing more to be said.

At age six we prayed hard for the babies

nameless and godless and without

questioning the word of God

or Mother Monica we felt loss.

I held an image of a lost soul in my mind

carried it with me into secondary school.

In childhood overheard muttered prayers

A grandmother weeping

a trail of tears when thought un-noticed.

Visits to ancient church ruins

flowers laid by the old stones

prayers said while watching the invisible

blow leaves around the ruins.

Babies denied recognition

Buried on the outer edge of their parish churches

Babies who had no place in heaven.

Their sin, still born, unbaptised at the time of death.

Parents lost in the mire of faith, grieved alone.

Under the landscapes of boundaries

and fields many mass graves lie denied.

For them I mourn…

Aine Mac Aodha - Poetry & Lens: Lughnasadh, Lúnasa; Lammas.

Aine Mac Aodha - Poetry & Lens: Lughnasadh, Lúnasa; Lammas.: "As Lúnasa ; Lughnasadh, Lammas celebrated in August I got to thinking of my late parents who never missed the Ould lammas Fair in Ballyca..."

Haiku~poetography

Haiku, a photo by Aine MacAodha on Flickr.

Haiku/poetography
by Aine MacAodha (c)2011