The Encounter of Líadain and Cuirithir

Last week, I listened to one of my lecturers read aloud a poem in Old Irish, and I learned a few things: Old Irish is a language which is meant to be listened to. Listening to someone read… Read More

The Glade #writephoto

I haven’t taken part in many writing challenges recently. Quite honestly, its all been a bit of a struggle for a while, writing and researching for the blog, keeping up with all your lovely blogs and comments, writing… Read More

A Poem for Samhain Witches Lament

I wrote this poem for Samhain last year, and decided to re-post it, because it fits with the season so well, and also with the atmosphere of last week’s poem, The Princess on the Hill. They hide the… Read More

A Samhain Poem | The Princess on the Hill

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… Read More

Poem | Missing the Point

They are dragged up the hill like beads on a rosary, their guide droning, words buzzing in one ear, dripping from the other like honey, to make room for the three other sites they will visit today. They want… Read More

A Bealtaine Poem | The Old Ways

Sun has slipped beyond the rim, and on the hill, fiery petals unfurl, a towering blossom of flame, summer’s herald, an omen of peace and plenty. * Around the Beal-fire maidens sway, yellow wrapped with starry strings of gorse,… Read More

Winter Willows | A Poem

Snow falls Feather soft For the robin, no perch here. * Across the field mournful cattle low. Too cold, the dark end of the year. * Soft hues of Eire earth-brown, grass-green, sky-blue, overcome by stark monochrome. *… Read More

National Poetry Day 2014

In the UK and Ireland, today is National Poetry Day. There is a full program of events lined up for the days surrounding this popular annual event in Ireland.  Just use the tags #thinkofapoem and #nationalpoetryday to tag… Read More

Carrion | A Poem

Cold crow, black crow sits in the tree. I’m not afraid of him, he’s not afraid of me. * He flaps and he watches with dark beady eye. He knows things about me as I stumble by. *… Read More

Sacred Spaces | A Poem

I understand it was not for love of man was built this house, but God. I watch as upon each stone as token of toil much blood and sweat was spilt. Many miles by distant pilgrims were trod… Read More