Sons of Erin

Erin’s sons
For freedom fighting
Gray clad soldiers
Join the fray
Gladly strive
Tyrant’s yoke defying,

Erin’s sons
For freedom fighting
Blue clad soldiers
Join the fray
Gladly strive
Send traitors fleeing,

Glory seeking
Erin’s sons
Blood stirring
To battle march
Honor sends
A new home saving,

Fearsome warriors
Erin’s sons
Eerie cry
To daunt
And threaten
Ranks of foemen storming,

Erin’s sons
Meet other brothers
Each convinced of right
Mortal combat
Banshee wails
Sons of Erin dying,

Erin’s sons
For freedom fighting
Duty’s sacrifice
Is paid
Battles ended
In death uniting.

© 2019 Maggie Grimes

Over the centuries, the Irish have fought in many wars. They were fierce warriors and greatly feared. The armies of both North and South contained thousands of Irishmen. Whether bluecoated or gray, they were brave soldiers fighting for their homes and honor. MJG

Manannan’s Daughter –Cantos six

I remember, or perhaps I dreamed, another time. It was a long ago time. Much is hidden in the mists of the past but moments stand out as in sunlight. The first memory is actually the last memory of she I might have been.

There was a battle and I fought crippled, being alone. My shieldmate was gone, he who guarded my back as I his. Being alone and knowing my fate, I had chosen the site of this battle carefully. The oak tree was ancient when I was born. It watched me grow, speaking to me in the whispering wind. I did not feel alone with it behind me.

They came laughing, seeing easy prey. My sword drank hearts’ blood twice and my shield crushed an unwary throat before they learned caution. They were angry at my impudence, shouting at me, rattling their swords. I laughed at them and they grew angrier. They charged. I danced amid the gnarled roots, dealing death. Time and time they came and could not take me. The roots grew slippery with their blood and mine. The ground beneath was darkened with it.

Time stopped as we fought. I know not how long we battled so. It was sunset when I next held thought, the sun’s gleaming, gold beneath the storm dark clouds. My arms burned and my legs trembled. My lungs labored with each breath. Everything was still. I looked at my enemy and ‘though the bodies were many, more still stood watching me. One stepped ahead of the others. Bigger, stronger, he was their champion held in reserve. The others fell back. He lifted his sword in salute and nodded his head. His eyes were kind.

I straightened and looked around me. The wind was cool against my face, sweet in my laboring lungs. The colors of the trees and fields glowed in sunset splendour. The air sparkled with amazing clarity.

I turned to the champion waiting still, patient. My fatigue, pain were gone, replaced by fierce defience. I raised my sword, delighting in the sunlight that jeweled its bloody length. I looked at the champion and my vision grew red. I screamed as the bann sidhe screams. I know no more. Perhaps my heart burst or his sword found it. I know not, for only darkness echoes.

These are my first memories, dreams of the distant time. There are others that came later as I remembered the sword. It was his sword. The coming of my shieldmate to be and the gifting of his sword are other dreams, memories to be recalled some other time. Some I might share but others, others well, we shall see.

©2019 Maggie Grimes

“Manannan’s Daughter” begins in prehistoric Ireland with the selkie’s tale and continues now with ancient tales of Irish heroes. MJG

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 Fae
Riding from the sidhe
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

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