Brigit’s Hands

Her hands are stories
Knotted with aged strength
Tales of labor, loving,
Her sweet face speaking
Tear-creased soft and laughing seamed
At peace in each day greeting,

Her hands are stories
Gentle with patient strength
Tales of labor, serving,
Her sweet face speaking
In family toils content
At peace in each day greeting,

Her hands are stories
Holding with enduring strength
Tales of labor, praying,
Her sweet face speaking
Serene in sustaining faith
At peace in each day greeting,

Her hands are stories.

© 2019 Maggie Grimes

Brigit, daughter of Dagda and Bres, was protector of women, of hearth and home.To all the women of strength through time, they raised us, taught us, loved us. May we continue to live their stories. MJG

Fionn MacCumhail

Finn has grown through ages
His tales
Extending
Enlarging
Feats of marvel
Compelling,
Giant
Against giant
Standing
‘Til reason
Cleared his vision
Marking disparities
Discretion changing valor,
Home remembered
And soon reclaimed
Trailing troubles
In his wake,
Wise Oonagh
Perceiving danger
Warmly welcomed
Hospitality homely,

Beware the woman
Whose home
And family threatened
Force no match for wit.

©2019 Maggie Grimes

The motto of this story is, “Don’t let your mouth get you in trouble unless you have a wise woman to back you up”. There is actually a more colloquial way of saying it but it’s rude. MJG

Cat on the Hill

The cat sits
Unblinking
Stationary on the hill
Dreaming ages past,

Rising wind sounds the Sidhe
Riding to their Great Hunt
Harness bells tinkling
Hounds baying
Horns calling, calling
Distantly lost,

The cat blinks
Then yawns lazily stretching
Saunters to his fireside
And home below.

©2019 Maggie Grimes

Dragon Eyes

Dragon eyes can never lie
Truth waits
In swirling opalescence
Enticing the unwary,

Dragon eyes can never lie
Promises tangled
In jeweled gossamer
Tempting the foolhardy,

Dragon eyes can never lie
Hope igniting
In ethereal gems
Daring the brave.

© 2019 Maggie Grimes

You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to get a dragon to sit still for a portrait. MJG

The Dragon Rises

The dragon rises
Broken winged
And tattered
The mirrored scales
Tarnished
Dull are her
Jeweled eyes,

The dragon rises
Flame spent
And guttered
The proud crest
Ragged
Mute is her
Dulcet voice,

The dragon rises
Proud hearted
And undaunted
Her unconquered spirit
Free
Untamed is her
Wild soul,

The dragon rises.

© 2019 Maggie Grimes

James – Santiago

Palo santo struggling to bloom
In the sun and dry,
The sea surges to fill the grotto
Lacing the ebon lava,
The fur seals greet each stranger
Secure in their pacific home.

© 2019 Maggie Grimes

Because humans were so late to the Galapagos, most of the animals are unafraid of human contact. Unfortunately, the fur seal had been hunted almost to extinction. On land they were very shy but in the water it was a different story. They seemed to enjoy swimming with human companions, inviting games of chase, peer into the face mask, tug the flipper. The sheer exhuberance as the sea washed us into the grotto and out again was breath taking. MJG

Bartolome

Rising to tear the sky
Toothed craters tower
Climbing to touch the sun,
Emptiness in your plains
Barren of all save thought
Necklaced by the emerald sea,
The sun devils laugh
In the searing sky
While an old man broods upon the rock.

© 2019 Maggie Grimes

I was snorkling in the cove by Pinnacle Rock. I noticed that from that angle, it looked like a churchman in full regalia. MJG

Bard

The Old One wakes music stirring
His notes beckon to others reaching
Timeless youth his age masking,
The Old One plays music piping
His cadence speeds to start the dancing
Twining patterns his call heeding,
The Old One sings music soaring
His wild song speaks their hearts arousing
Embracing song shadows voicing,
The Old One frees music swirling
His magic shackled joy releasing
Forsaking time never ceasing,
The Old One wakes.

©2019 Maggie Grimes

What can I say, bards and music and Celtic magic. The photo is of my small bodhran, ancient drum of the Celts. MJG

Celtic Contradictions

I am afraid of the night
Yet I must see the stars,
I would cower before the storm
But I must heed its bidding,
I tremble beside the sea
Still I yeild to her embrace,
I grow restless in the springtime
Weary in the fall,
Life beckons to me
I must follow if I can.

©2019 Maggie Grimes

The Giant’s Causeway calls the ancient Celtic mysteries and magics to mind. The stories they weave are spellbinding. MJG

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑