Tag: Nature

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

0

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

0

Fómhar

Summer’s pyre
Flaming against a crystal sky
Winds whirling
Feeding, scattering
Dying flames
Of promise,
Cailleach’s cloak
Of brief splendor
Woven from summer’s bounty
Death’s bright herald
To welcome winter’s sleep
By glorious revel.

© 2022, Maggie Grimes

The painting was inspired by a photos of Foley’s Bridge in County Down, Northern Ireland. MJG

0

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

1

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
 

0

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.

0

Eala

The sun’s warming kiss
And soft mists rising
Beckon,
Morning calls
Wings stretch beating
Lift,

Rich the bonded years
Two and one together
Loving,
Silvered wings lifting
Our flighted wedge
Soaring,

Lonely skies to travel
Since his sweet song
Stilled,
The cygnets raised
Cared and guarded
Alone,

The sky calls
Wings to freedom
Lifting,
Duty met and love awaitng
The Otherworld
Inviting.

© 2020 Maggie Grimes
In Irish mythology and culture, the swan often symbolized love and fidelity. They usually mate for life. The swans are found in Irish mythology and are often associated with music and purity, able to travel between the mortal world and the Other. My painting was inspired by a photo by Ray McCann Photography. MJG.

0

The Amazing Tom Crean

Tom Crean,
He amazes me
How he faced the darkness and the danger
Days of freezing labor
And Death a spectre waiting,
Cheerfully he gave his strength
Sharing songs and laughter
Refusing defeat
Hoping, believing
Indefatigable and indomitable
Yet he came home to a different adventure
In his family content
Finding his own South Pole there,
No old and endless polar tales
But focused on the living
His friends and family serving
An Irishman was Tom Crean,
His life amazing.

© 2020 Maggie Grimes
After his medical retirement from the navy in 1920, Tom Crean and his wife Ellen opened a public house in Annascual. He called it the South Pole Inn. He never tried to relive past glories or bask in old accolades, focusing on his family. He died at sixty-one when his appendix burst traveling to an available surgeon. He was an incredible Irish hero. My poems Tom Crean and Tom Crean’s Dance were posted earlier. MJG

0

Samhain Plays

Hurry travelers
Race the coming darkness
Already watchfires blink and kindle,
Be still and listen
Lift high your head
Testing the wind
Like the wild deer,
Darkness stalks the careless,
The daring,
The foolish,
Creeping closer,
Winds stir
Rattling the sleepy trees,
Gateways open in the hills
Wild music skirling
Worlds meeting
Anticipation shivers
Moon kissed shadows,
Soon, soon
Changes come
Both the gaining and the losing,
The Fae folk ride
And lost ones roam,
If you must venture
Keep your lanterns lit
And know where the water races,
Samhain plays tonight.

© 2020 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. Life ends, life begins, a Great Wheel turning, terrifying and enticing. Happy Halloween. MJG

0

Danu Pondering

I am young
Maid innocent
Beauty fresh,
Years stretching
Endlessly hopeful
Invincible,
Eager wife
A husband joining
Consuming passion births,
Heart, belly, breasts
So full and nurturing
Matronly duties mine,
A crone’s reflection
Haunts me
Gnarled hands wringing,

I watched my children
Long these years
Life so full and fleeting,
Roaming, building
Casting aside
To build anew,
A savage maid
Matron, crone
Await,
My heart breaks
But hope remains
The future beauty holds,
Oh the years
Taunting and capricious
As the wind.
© 2020 Maggie Grimes
I realize that the triadic goddesses of Irish mylthology don’t represent the stages of life, but rather mystical truths ruled over by different aspects of a triple goddess. I am a poet of Irish-Celtic ancestry and this is how I heard their words. 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 and are now paying for our hubris. MJG

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑