aliisaacstoryteller

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

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 circular poem is inspired by her, and dedicated to her.

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