A Samhain Poem | The Princess on the Hill

A Poem for Tlachtga

Éilis Niamh and I were recently challenged by Jane Dougherty to write a circular poem. You can read their circular poems by clicking on their names. It being the season that it is, and the big event drawing ever nearer, my mind has been wandering over the tragic legend of Tlachtga, and so this poem is inspired by her, and dedicated to her.

She lies upon the hill, ragged and torn,
Borne of the night her three sons bold.
Told a story heartless and cruel,
Fuel for revenge of an act most foul.
Howling like wolves that feed on death,
Breath-whispered curses, plotting and schemes,
Dreams of justice wrought by the sword.
Ward, the hill is known as now,
Samhain the festival held there still.
Hill of doom whereon lies her tomb,
Womb-like shelter of a princess wronged.
Prolonged her suffering, glad her end,
Transcend beyond her mortal ties,
Dies. But perhaps she watched them, proud
Vowed and geisa-bound to serve with combat,
Begat in violence, ruled by the blade,
Shade in their eyes,  and hearts ice-dipped.
Worshipped as a Goddess in her still, dark mound,
Drowned in silence, residing only in memory,
She lies on the hill.

thank you for visitingWant more mythology? Sign up to my mailing list!
Or get one of these!

25 Comments on “A Samhain Poem | The Princess on the Hill

  1. Pingback: The Halloween Legacy of Ireland’s Witches | aliisaacstoryteller

  2. Pingback: Halloween or Samhain? | aliisaacstoryteller

Please feel free to join in the conversation...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.