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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.

Thursday, 14 January 2010

Island Home

Island Home

I’ve traveled very little from this island home.

My native land grounds me keeps me in contact

with the rhythms of nature, the sound of the winds,

the call of the wild birds and the dialects of its people.

Tyrone’s inland landscape of moss clad hills and flat bogs

break every now and then like an ocean wave.

Small towns and villages emerge lively and loud

against the woven landscape.

One can drive for miles across back roads criss-crossing

town lands whose names mean; stony path,

fairly coloured field or hill of midges; before

a village appears out of the hedgerows.

Fintona, Seskinore, over the mountain to

Fivemiletown. across the side road to Sixmilecross,

Carrickmore, Gortin and to Omagh again, the view

always lifts the spirit.

Gortin village is one such place, hidden within

the protective fauna of the forest and rough mossy

hills flanking the road into the village.

Fiddle music sails up from the music store.

I may not have traveled far; but this island

Home; were the ancestors have left their marks on the land;

in the form of art and awkward names,

This will take me far away in my mind at times.

Living on the Island of Ireland and the North especially has shaped my poetics as much as

its writers have. Songs, debates; dialects, myths and words all play the part; not

withstanding the landscape from inland to the coastal waters. One’s affected by the

weather, the wind loves to blast so much harder, winter seems to linger more, the seasons

don’t argue they just do their job. I don’t need the weather forecast, I just look out the

window; if there’s snow on the Sperrin Mountains,  there’s sure to be snow in the valley of

Omagh town at some stage during the week ahead.
First published in http://soylesipoetrymagazine.com/download-issues/

1 comment:

A Heron's View said...

Aye' AĆ­ne, all very true words and so neatly packaged that this is my fourth time of having enjoyed your creativity.