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Aine MacAodha ~ Poetry and Lens

Aine MacAodha

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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, 30 October 2012

Samhain ~ and a few poems

Samhain ~ meaning end of Summer for pagan followers, which I love, denouncing the end of Summer ~ prounounced, sowen,  symbol, black cat, Jack o lamtern, bat, ghost and moon~
Oidhche,  Halloween,  Hallows, third harvest.
Darker night are ahead. A time when the veil is thinist and a time to visit our ancestors through various modes of divination.
Associated stones for Samhain, can be Obsidian, Black Onyx and my favourite Amethyst

 AmerginAmergin of the Milesians, the first Celtic tribe of Ireland. Amergin was the chief of eight , by legend, the conquerors of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Amergin was a druid poet of supernatural ability.

Amergin's Challenge
I am a wind across the sea
I am a flood across the plain
I am the roar of the tides
I am a stag* of seven (pair) tines
I am a dewdrop let fall by the sun
I am the fierceness of boars*
I am a hawk, my nest on a cliff
I am a height of poetry (magical skill)
I am the most beautiful among flowers
I am the salmon* of wisdom
Who (but I) is both the tree and the lightning strikes it
Who is the dark secret of the dolmen not yet hewn
I am the queen of every hive
I am the fire on every hill
I am the shield over every head
I am the spear of battle
I am the ninth* wave of eternal return
I am the grave of every vain hope
Who knows the path of the sun, the periods of the moon
Who gathers the divisions, enthralls the sea,
sets in order the mountains. the rivers, the peoples

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.

By Aine MacAodha
first published in Thre Argotist Online.

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

(C) Aine MacAodha

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