Aonbarr

Winds rise,
A lover’s caress
To passion turning

Waves break,
Tranquil seas heave
Mirrored surface breaking

Mysteries stir,
New morn fresh
Thoughts ancient waking

Thunder roars,
Full moon gleams
The storm breaking

Sea births,
Moon and storm created
Manannan’s mount rising.

© 2020 Maggie Grimes

Of the many magical objects and creatures associated with the Irish sea god Manannan Mac Lir, Aonbarr has to be my favorite. A different kind of sea horse, Aonbarr raced across cresting waves as though they were the smoothest pasture. The ocean and horses, two of my passions. It’s been too long since I could travel to the sea. At least my horse is in the pasture behind the house. MJG

Granuaile

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.

Beltane

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

The Fairy Tree

The wild calls,
Scarce heard so quiet its voice
But haunting,
Sedate fields
Familiar hearths
Now dull and unappealing,
Longing for unkempt freedom
And unknowns,

The tree stands,
Alone,
Gnarled with seasons
Yet buds and blooms
In time,
Expectant, patient
Its ragged branches
Soughing an invitation,
An unlikely door,

The portal opens,
People of the Sidhe
Wild folk and fae
Cross its threshold
Moonbright and gleaming,
Music skirls
Timeless mysteries sharing
Enticing the unwary,
Lifting the heart or breaking.
© 2020 Maggie Grimes


The fairy trees of Ireland are lone hawthorn or ash trees standing in a field or on hilltop. Known to be portals to the Otherworld, the wise leave these trees unharmed to carry on their solitary duties. MJG

Darkness Into Light

It is dark
In the beginning,
The stars
Distant and cold,
The wind chilling
What warmth survived,
Sheep and shepherds
Huddle for warmth
Dreaming sunshine and spring,

Imperceptibly the darkness
Brightens to blinding light,
A whisper grows
To living thunder,
“Fear not
I bring joyful tidings,
A Savior is born
To God’s glory
And peace for earth,”

Eternal gift of Hope
Light unconquerable,
He is born.
© 2019 Maggie Grimes

May the hope and joy
of Christmas and a
Blessed New Year
be yours.

Cailleach

The Old One stirs
Stretching from her sleep,
Her blanket warm
And autumn hued,
Yawning she rises
Blinking her bright eyes
Sleep fading,

Washing her vivid blanket
She scrubs and rinses
In the gurgling spring,
Whitely shimmering
She spreds her blanket in the sun,
Her eyes twinkle
As she smiles,

Her purpose calls
Her journey to begin,
Removing old and worn,
Giving needed respite
To the land,
Preparing earth
For fecund spring,

To plant afresh
You first must reap,
To awaken healed
You first must sleep,
The new replaces old,
Her eyes warm
Ageless and wise.

© 2019 Maggie Grimes

Cailleach is the winter goddess, the crone, the old hag. She is a power of destruction and renewal. It is difficult sometimes to find hope in the middle of an icy storm, but spring comes only after winter. It is worth the wait. MJG.

Samhain

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

Autumn

Autumn is intense
All colors saturated
A gift from summer,

Trees are living flames
Teeming bonfires blaze with light
The forest glowing,

Skies of fall, blue
Searing sight with clarity
So memories are brightened,

Clear air crisps each breath
Clean lungs invigorating
Cold yet warmed by life,

Promises are made
Painted in vibrant pigments
Payment for winter,

Autumn.

©2019 Maggie Grimes

I love the vivid clarity and crispness of autumn. With the drought and extreme heat this summer there isn’t much color. I painted a memory of autumn instead. MJG

Aground

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

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑