Shamain ~ and a few poems

Samhain ~ meaning end of Summer for pagan followers, which I love, denouncing the end of Summer ~ prounounced, sowen,  symbol, black cat, Jack o lamtern, bat, ghost and moon~
Oidhche,  Halloween,  Hallows, third harvest.
Darker night are ahead. A time when the veil is thinist and a time to visit our ancestors through various modes of divination.
Associated stones for Samhain, can be Obsidian, Black Onyx and my favourite Amethyst

 AmerginAmergin of the Milesians, the first Celtic tribe of Ireland. Amergin was the chief of eight , by legend, the conquerors of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Amergin was a druid poet of supernatural ability.

Amergin's Challenge
I am a wind across the sea
I am a flood across the plain
I am the roar of the tides
I am a stag* of seven (pair) tines
I am a dewdrop let fall by the sun
I am the fierceness of boars*
I am a hawk, my nest on a cliff
I am a height of poetry (magical skill)
I am the most beautiful among flowers
I am the salmon* of wisdom
Who (but I) is both the tree and the lightning strikes it
Who is the dark secret of the dolmen not yet hewn
I am the queen of every hive
I am the fire on every hill
I am the shield over every head
I am the spear of battle
I am the ninth* wave of eternal return
I am the grave of every vain hope
Who knows the path of the sun, the periods of the moon
Who gathers the divisions, enthralls the sea,
sets in order the mountains. the rivers, the peoples






LunaLosing shadows that follow                                       from these troubled acresis hard going at times.When it�s those same shadowsyou seek to understandwhat it all came down to.Three in the morning brings relief;nature is more calmer and coolsto a creaking lullaby.Some birds sleep sound.The urban onesblether through the night.The moon solemnly gives ordersto orchestrate the night crawlerson missions. She casts shadowsin dimly lit corners of the globe.She�ll never be the sun,blitzing the crops, warmingthe shadows.But she�ll always be the catalyst,calling you back to the past.

By Aine MacAodha
first published in Thre Argotist Online.











Mise EireTalk to me of bogs,of blankets on the land.Talk to me of mythsyou have at your command.Tell me of Cu Chulainn,the hero hound of Ulster,the battles of the Tain Boand the warriors of Munster,the progress of the firbolgs.The De danaans on the hillremind me of our legendsof folklore through the quill.Talk to me of forests,of flora and fauna there.Talk to me of mountainsin Tyrone and in Kildare.Tell me now of the futureof equality in the land.Speak to me of serenity,so the tribes can understand




(C) Aine MacAodha