Aine MacAodha Poetry & links

Aghascrebah Ogham Stone, Ireland

I feel its supernatural pull;

working its way up from the earth

and out to the universe.

Laid by pre-historic man

un-earthed by modern farmer

searching for rich soil.

Silver almost; as the November sky.

Aiming towards the heavens

like a beacon over the boundaries.

Waiting perhaps, in this empty field

surrounded by hedges and bracken,

for a gathering of a kind to recall

the deep rooted origins of it’s

sweat bearing creators. Their

words forever notched in stone.

Into this November air

a supernatural force

draws me to it like a magnet.

'Aghascrebah Ogham Stone found in Greencastle in County Tyrone, North of Ireland'

               Losing My Religion

It wasn’t easy growing up

around the fortress

of a garrison town.

When the troubles

were our second coats,

fear our constant companion.

The instinctual things

a teenager had to know

by heart, by soul.

What side of the street

was yours to tread?

Cover up the school

uniform in the town,

or it sealed your fate

like a patriotic tattoo,

or a flag always flying;

when certain colours

out of safety zones meant

a potential beating.

Knowing to keep your

head down when the

landrovers followed you home.

Divided by a war we didn’t

fully understand.

When escape meant the border

singing Irish songs of freedom,

horslips and Celtic rock

without the watchful eye of

bigots.

Now the shroud of war is lifted,

I can envelope myself in the beauty

of my own country without fear or

regret.

Morning has broken

The early morning frost leaks

through the old frames.

Frozen webs leave intricate patterns

that should be framed for prosperity.

Shadows flank the hills as mist

gathers like midges on Lough Muck.

Cows huddle at the hedges

leaving billowing clouds of breath.

Below, the newly built Texaco garage

begins the alien noises of the day.

Car doors slam, hydraulic breaks scream,

and school kids fill up with energy..

Then like an open wound, the horizon

splits the grey morning, bringing with it

a baked scene full of challenges and hope

for coming hours.

A troubled July ‘90’

The evening rain brought a mist of calm

To the sun burnt leaves blowing nowhere.

Overhead a helicopter roars on take-off

Leaves cringes at the disturbance;

Sirens serenade, as dogs howl.

Violence has broken out again.

Moaning land rovers remind me of the military presence.

A blast-then billowing clouds of pitch.

Hazy ruby smoke; signals someone’s heartache.

Fire swallows an abandon car

I try the higher power

Take me from this insanity,

The sea I could almost smell

Cascading against smooth rocks

Hair windswept and faintly salted.

.

Reality hits hard when morning nears

crouching soldiers mediate between religious unrest.

I lash out, the media lash out.

I light a cigarette and inhale quickly;

Another troubled July.