Fionn and the Fianna were the army of the High Kings of Ireland. One of Fionn's favourite past-times was hunting in the Glenasmole above where I now live.
his heart break
for a thousand miles
as he stood upon
the rood stones
below his feet
Glenasmole
the valley of the thrushes
shone radiant
in the crisp spring air
his feet were bound
with leather and fustian
his left arm
an amulet wore
of brass gold
from those Wicklow Hills
his people were dying
not from hunger
from the land
but from the spirit
that had held them true
for Gael and slaughter
word of mouth
was killing them
so as he stood
on bog oak grey
and slaked his thirst
in burren brook
he roared
the lore
of
rising
Poetry by Peter Humphreys
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Written on 2008-04-13 at 21:19
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Fionn
you could hearhis heart break
for a thousand miles
as he stood upon
the rood stones
below his feet
Glenasmole
the valley of the thrushes
shone radiant
in the crisp spring air
his feet were bound
with leather and fustian
his left arm
an amulet wore
of brass gold
from those Wicklow Hills
his people were dying
not from hunger
from the land
but from the spirit
that had held them true
for Gael and slaughter
word of mouth
was killing them
so as he stood
on bog oak grey
and slaked his thirst
in burren brook
he roared
the lore
of
rising
Poetry by Peter Humphreys
Read 730 times
Written on 2008-04-13 at 21:19
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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 by Peter Humphreys Latest textslifethe grey green sea emboldened beyond beyond we knelt |
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