Tag: ireland

Misneach

I look  young
You might think
Eager as spring,
But I am old
Watching through time
Sharing lives,
I am a warrior
Who defends your food
Bringing trophies of my prowess,
My antics amuse you
Boxing shadows
Distracting from mundane burdens,
I bring comfort
In the night silences,
Filling the darkness,
My rumbling purr
Lulls you to slumber
Defeating your fears,
I am not afraid
To stand guard
Awaiting the day,
I look young
You might think
Eager as spring,
But I am old
Watching through time
Sharing lives.

© 2023, Maggie Grimes

Misneach(MISH-nock)courage, spirit, hopefulness. The painting is of Belenos, my Bright One. I added the Irish cottage and my cat’s musings. MJG

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Home

Old Cailleach’s bite blustery cold,
Her cloak shimmering frosted snow,
A shivering welcome hiding spring
Home warms the soul.
© 2023, Maggie Grimes

The painting is of Brandon Hill, Co Kilkenny. I have to say the cottage is my creation but I wanted a warm haven from the snow and cold of December and January. MJG

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Reflections of Danu


Oh the years
Taunting and capricious
As the wind,
I am young
Maid innocent
Beauty fresh,
Years stretching
Endlessly hopeful
Invincible,

Oh the years
Taunting and capricious
As the wind,
Eager wife
A husband joining
Consuming passion births,
Heart, belly, breasts
So full and nurturing
Matronly duties mine,

Oh the years
Taunting and capricious
As the wind,
A crone’s reflection
Haunts me
Gnarled hands wringing,
Squandered now
The maiden’s hope
The matron’s fecund gifts,

Oh the years
Taunting and capricious
As the wind,
Water, soil, air
Souls fouled by greed and malice
Reap a poisoned harvest,
A new day dawns
Its terrible beauty birthing
Storm, disease and fire,

Oh the years
Taunting and capricious
As the wind,
I watched my children
Long these years
Life so full and fleeting,
Roaming, building
Casting aside
To build anew,


Oh the years
Taunting and capricious
As the wind,
A savage maid
Matron, crone
Await,
My heart breaks
But hope remains
The future beauty holding.

© 2023 Maggie Grimes

I felt the need to revisit an earlier poem, a restatement of their voices. In ancient times we lived in harmony and balance with the natural world. We respected Nature and our place in it. We have forgotten these truths. MJG

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Dublin

I dreaming saw
The Enchanted Isle
Beneath silver wings,
Dublin glowing in the dawn
Waking to the day
Shivering and eager,

I dreaming heard
Pealing bells
Streets crowding rumble,
Horns and whistles blaring
Bringing hordes
In ordered confusion,

Learned colleges, museums
Cathedrals of renown and graveyard stillness
I saw,
Teeming pubs, boisterous crowds
Songs voiced rowdy, poignant
I heard,

I, Dublin dreamed.

© 2023, Maggie Grimes

Sunrise at Baily Lighthouse, Dublin. MJG

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Adventures

The adventure approaches
Drawing close
Anticipation and chaos
Handfast in preparation
Heart yearning for home
Yet hard to leave
Roots strain across the water
Inviting
Dreams can alter, grow
And not be lost
Her voices call me
Ireland.

© 2023, Maggie Grimes

The painting was inspired by a photo of Benbulbin by CarverPhotograpy. I look at it and it is easy to think of Ireland. It invites an adventure. MJG

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Old Bridey and the Vixen

Summer’s ripe,
Days loath the yielding to night
So rousing early,

Old Bridey stirs,
She’ll be out soon
Tending her day,

If she sees me,
Mist soft
She’ll speak,

She’ll wish me good morn,
Then share the village gossip
As she works,

Bridey will remind me
I must leave her hens alone,
I always do (unless they stray),

We are comfortable together,
Old bones warming in the sun
With our shared memories,

Our babes born and grown,
Seeking their own adventures
Still loved and missed,

Stretching I rise,
Knowing Bridey’s Blessing
I stalk the hidden mouse.

© 2022, Maggie Grimes

I look at a lot of photos of Ireland which inspires much of my art and poetry. One was of a fox which reminded me of the one that I sometimes see. We share quiet communications in our solitary tasks; I tending the horse and the fox its survey for it’s lawful prey. We are comfortable with the other’s presence. MJG

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Imbolc

Little springtime
Are Nature’s blessings
That brush aside
Winter’s tousled hair
Clearing her wild eyes,

Brief, bright moments
Of stolen sweetness
And cherished warmth
While harsh winter rests
Her frigid labors,

Such stillness calls
The battered spirits
From their struggles
To bask reveling
In warm caresses,

Little springtimes
Are Nature’s blessings
Intimacies
When Earth delights
In shivering pleasure.

© 2021 Maggie Grimes
The first of February is celebrated as Imbolc, the beginning of spring. Although Brighid, Dagda’s daughter is bright and eager for fresh beginnings, frigid Cailleach doesn’t let go easily. Still, early blooms peep through the snow, eager for life. MJG
 

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Christmas Joy

Winter’s darkness blankets
A broken world,
Fear, hatred and grief
Familiar companions,
But not forever
Even in this abyss
A spark burns,

He lives
Indomitable hope
Refusing defeat,
Upholding, empowering,
He lives
The light unquenchable
Love eternal,

Rejoice and be glad. His light vanquishes all darkness.

© 2020 Maggie Grimes


Have a loving and Merry Christmas
and a blessed and Happy New Year

Maggie Jane Grimes
Christmas 2020

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Christmas Blessing

May
Christmas memories warm you
Laughter delight you
Peace and hope renew you
And the light of His love guide you,

May
You know the Mother’s sweet joy
The Father’s quiet pride
And the Child’s deep faith,

May
You feel the joy of the season
Hear the song of the angels
See the glory of His gift
And share the wonder of His birth,

May
You have a Merry Christmas
And a Happy New Year.

© 2020 Maggie Grimes

I wanted to share some of my poems and art of past Christmases. Nollaig Shona Dhuit. MJG

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Cailleach’s Time

Implacable in her hunger
The Old Woman tightens her coils,
Nature smothered
To whispered pleas ,

Hypnotic power in her gaze
The Old Woman paralyzes,
Nature entrapped
By sunless time,

Arrogant, pitiless power
The Old Woman consumes,
Nature restrained
A new spring waits.
© 2020 Maggie Grimes

Cailleach is the winter goddess, often seen as a crone, older than time. Hers is the primal power of destruction which leads to renewal. One must endure the storms of winter to find spring. MJG.

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