Scribing words to call the music in your soul
Ocean winds blow
Foaming the waters
Lifting wings to hover
Then drop
Skimming the waves
Or diving into darkness
Seeking bounty,
Flesh and feather,
Earth born
But creature of sea and air.
© 2020 Maggie Grimes
The northern fulmar is a seabird seen throughout coastal Ireland. It nests among cliffs in summer but winters at sea. It is a relative of the albatross. My painting is inspired by a photo taken by Liam McNamara of “Ireland From My Lens Photography”. MJG
Through long hills
And verdant valleys
I walk,
In darkening forest
And stoney fields
I breathe,
Of summer mist
And roaring thunder
I sing,
On storm tossed seas
And vibrant lands
I live.
© 2020 Maggie Grimes
Danu, goddess of ancient Ireland, mother of their gods and fae, and giver of knowledge, wisdom, and abundance. Danu, primal and ageless. The Dark Hedges of County Antrim make me wonder and dream of ancient stories and mysteries. This poem came to mind after I painted them. MJG
Adventures daring
She remembers,
Doubt, courage
Old loves holding
She dreams,
Warmth, hope
Drifting cloudlike,
She wanders,
Serene, quiet
Nature refreshing
She heals,
Peace, beauty
A day’s dawning
She sings,
Endings, beginnings.
© 2020 Maggie Grimes
Free spirited, restless, loving, the selkie seems the embodiment of the Celtic soul. I must admit a fondness for the sea mammals since I originally planned to be a marine biologist. MJG.
Breathe, the sea rich air inhaling
Life filling lungs
And heart and soul
Sail, the sea billows surging
Energy lifting prow
And heart and soul
Explore, the sea reaches calling
Unknowns enticing thought
And heart and soul
Listen, the sea dreams singing
Music firing mind
And heart and soul
Brave, the sea tempests taunting
Courage driving endeavors
And heart and soul
Seek, the sea realms freeing
Hope stirring resolve
And heart and soul.
© 2020 Maggie Grimes
Grace O’Malley was a daughter of mac Lir. Although a woman of the sixteenth century, her life seems more fitting for a warrior queen of the ancient Celts. She went to sea as a child, learning the skills of sailing, battle, and command. She faced Elizabeth I as an equal and won her respect. Grace O’Malley was a sea called and sea molded pirate queen. MJG.
The moon dances
Nightwind playing
Darkness sings with hidden voices
Feel the gravid power
Danu teeming
Birthing springtime with her riches
Join the dancers in their masks
Wildness leaping
‘Round the watch fires burning
Darkness kisses burning skin
Passion calling
Driving mad with ancient wisdom
Beltane beckons.
© 2020 Maggie Grimes
Beltane was the ancient Celtic celebration of spring. Old fires were extinguished and new ones lit. Fields and lifestock were blessed to insure fertility in the coming summer. Human connection, dependance, and responsibility to the land were reaffirmed. MJG
Days lost in darkness
Lugh rose,
Sun bright gleaming,
Gifts Lugh gave
Arts and war he crafted,
His foes conquering,
In light and learning
Lugh’s people flourished,
Long years shining,
Day fades
And night returns,
It’s fearful monsters hiding,
Breaking above the clouds
Newborn light blinds,
On wave tops dancing,
Shrouded night flees
Its darkness vanquished,
A fresh world waking,
Hope stirs
With light strengthened,
The new day facing,
Another chance for life
The journey not completed,
The sun rising.
© 2020 Maggie Grimes
Lugh brings not just physical light in his role as the Irish sun god, but enlightenment as the god of the arts and crafts.
The painting was inspired by a beautiful photo of Poolbeg Lighthouse at sunrise by the photographer Stephen O’Sullivan. Thank you. MJG
Tom Crean,
I’ve read of him
Born a Kerry man, a farmer’s son
He ran away to the sea
Not quite seventeen but tall,
Nigh three decades service to the Royal Navy giving,
Tom Crean,
Three times he dared Antarctic ice,
Once dancing across broken floes, he saved the stranded men,
Another time he trudged eighteen lonely hours to save a fallen friend,
He was one of the six, fighting tossing seas and ice
And still faced the endless trek for the castaways,
Tom Crean,
Always ready to laugh or sing
Teaching his fellows, leading,
A strong man, tireless
A pipe clasped in his teeth
Lips eager to smile,
Tom Crean,
I marvel at his dauntless courage, unfailing cheer
Did he dream green fields and sweet breezes
To keep back the crushing darkness?
How did he keep on going
Fighting the tiller, singing?
Tom Crean,
I’ve read of him.
© 2020 Maggie Grimes
Tom Crean has been a hero of mine for years, an Irishman in the British Navy. He went to Antarctica, twice with Scott and later with Shackleton in the push to reach the South Pole. In each effort, Crean was noted for his indefatigable strength and good humor, willing to risk himself to save others. Times like these, his spirit lives in the heroes fighting covid-19. MJG
Samhain comes
To moon washed meadows gleaming
Eager and expectant,
She dances
Wrapt in dreams and laughter
Mistress of the night,
She sings
Ancient songs to snare the soul
Passions from a different time,
Samhain comes
Melding worlds of separate realms
Changing with her touch.
©2019 Maggie Grimes
Samhain of the ancient Celts was a celebration and recognition of endings and beginnings. The labors and harvest of summer in preparation for winter done. The approaching darkness and cold of winter warmed by the hope of spring. The portals between realms, between Fae and human, the living and the dead, were open. Life ends, life begins, a Great Wheel turning, terrifying and enticing. Happy Halloween. MJG
I would know the Great Hunt
Just once more
Seek mysteries
Ageless power calling,
I would thrill to Hounds’ song
Just once more
Noble prey seeking
Field and forest coursing,
I would chase the Moon Road
Just once more
Seek the moonbeams dancing
Silvered shadows chasing,
I will know the Great Hunt
Just once more
Finding change
Clean, cold wind chilling.
©2019 Maggie Grimes
The ancient celebration of Samhain approaches when the Fae could freely leave their sidhe. If the horns of the Great Hunt sounds, stay home, lock your doors, hide away lest you become their prey. Only a cat would brave the magic with such nonchalance. MJG
She rests
Amidst the marshy grasses
Dreaming
Days plying the island routes
Wind and wave lifting
Lost in time,
She danced
Sea spray lacing her bow
Sailing
Her paint fresh against the waves
Chasing lightly the seals
Her frothy road guiding,
She felt
Her Master’s hand
Guiding
Firm upon the wheel
His voice next to God
Sending deck hands leaping,
She labors
Fishing or cargo and passengers hauling
Serving
Racing rising storm
To best the wind and drowning waves
For home’s sweet calm,
She rests
Amidst the marshy grasses
Dreaming
Days plying the island routes
Battered but harbor safe
Lost in time.
© 2019 Maggie Grimes
The painting and poem are inspired by a photo taken by Liam McNamara. The poet in me saw no defeat in the boat, battered though she was. I wish I could have done greater justice to his photo. MJG
celtic singer 