There sits she upon her table round,
Strong and resolute without a sound,
Beckon’d am I, while her gaze stirs something,
What tales of times to come,
Are known herein and yet confound,
Giant spectres ingrained in the minds of men.

A silent moment rages for eternity,
She turns the cards one by one,
Revealing unsung truths and bitter lies,
Lost in the cards are echoes long since past,
Of deep human sights cast into the dark night sky,
Odes from aeons past, yet boundless in the sea of black.

Left to right they are drawn forth,Each new turn draws me in,
And sets my mind ablaze,
And heart to race against the shadows deep,
The dim murmer of the crowd amongst the stars,
Fades as I return to life, seek to live,
Amongst the otherworldly nomore.


Fly Away, Friend

I touched a butterfly,
In a shaded grove,
And felt it’s silken,
Cloth-like wings.

In a moment,
It was there and gone,
Always and everlasting,
The quintessential monarch’s reign.

It skipped and fluttered,
So free and far,
In great majesty,
Never trapped.

Masquerading among,
Snowdrops and lilies,
Passing rivers and seas,
And nearby beaches.

I saw a butterfly,
As I walked down the street,
And saw its silken,
Bright, white wings.

And I recalled,
My fly away friend.

Winter Solstice

Tonight as the winter flame burns bright,
The hearth place is cast in light,
With Winter Solstice’s deep breath,
Hail Robin Redbreast.
Gather the tree ever green,
Gift the home and remind us of the Queen,
With the year now borne new,
Raise the up a glass of mulled wine;
Sing songs new as the Cupbearer calls.
So sing of times yet to come,
With the turning of the Wheel,
Let now be the time to start healing,
The promise of Light is renewed.
With the Earth still in slumber,
Dreaming of times in the past,
Let tonight be the night for reflection;
And releasing our wishes to the flame.
So now let us rejoice and make laughter,
For these are the times best to chase after,
Heeding the ancient sages advice,
And heed the passing season of ice,
With the descent of the old,
The rise of the reborn Sun,
We greet thee Deus Sol Invictus all,
With our voice our songs and calls.


In three rivers,
My soul shall grow,
My body nourished,
And my Spirit cherished.

In three rivers,
Myself known,
Reflections cast,
And illusions torn.

In three rivers,
Dark and Light held in renown,
With one as many,
And many as one.

In three rivers,
Family, friends and lovers known,
My body nourished,
And my Spirit cherished.

Sinann’s Story

In her breast her heart beat,
She, determined and without regret,
To steal away by clandestine might,
All the secrets kept in night.
A daughter of the ancient world,
The waters of the ancient Well whirled,
Dancing round her, transforming,
And transcending all conformity.
The wise men could say naught,
As she was taught,
To see the magics of the land, sea and sky,
And hear the oldest of unspoken cries.
Daughter of the deep,
Whose devouring of the hazels,
Came in no clear appraisal,
Yet inspire wisdom and knowledge
Of the elements, in and out of magical college.
Freedom of the form,
Which only creativity can inform,
Sinann, daughter of the deep,
Whose birthright it is,
To spare true wisdom,
From those whose wish,
It would be to covet and keep.

The Coffin Ship

As the coffin ship slowly leaves
[Bound] for the new found world.
Children crying – captain cheats
Fever is all around
Mothers [calling] for water, water!

Turn your head and see the sick
Children coughing all around
The cold wind sends a chill
You look for colour on the ship
But the thought of the sick sinks inside.

When will the nightmare end?
Sickness, sickness – sickness all around.
You think it has to end
But when, but when
Sickness, sickness on the coffin ship.


I remember you, did I,
When you beckoned me
Back then so young was I,
Frail you seemed to be,
A gentle-man all did agree.

From pipe and cane,
And trips to the spring well,
Epitomising all that is, to me, urbane
Did my anguish begin to swell
All your wisdom and I your conferee.

Finding joy in all was your way,
I lost in that lingering memory
I failed to continue to play
And loose myself in the sensory,
And the transcendental to a degree.

To you, my granddad, I thank you,
You offered so much love,
I aim never to eschew,
My granddad, held above.

Inward Spiral

Vision borne, seek thy voice,
Desire for Life and rejoice,
A light to guide thyself to inner wisdom,
Through and beyond ol’ Christendom.
Son of Water, Daughter of Water,
Guide me to the Magna Mater.
Muin – the path of my voice,
Ibn, am I, of Mother Earth.
Hidden Mysteries, kept from sight,
Journey forth; purging plight,
Many roads – fear not the travel along the Path,
For weeds choke the Untrodden Way.

– Níall MacSiurtáin (06/09/2012)

Lad’s Love

A love with a stifled voice,
Belittled by those of ill-formed choice,
I share a grá for another boy,
Yet I must, ever learn to be so coy,
How will I learn like all my peers,
What it means for a lad to show another such care.

I remember well my first love,
He was a friend before I made any move,
And with a whimper
Did it all transpire
While my classmates flittered about.

We learned to couch our feelings,
In safe intonations and revealings,
Yet, when it came about,
Neither he nor I could admit they had clout,
As our emotions bonded us we acted out.

Barely fifteen – we’d rushed through it all,
Only to be forestalled,
By the over-exuberance we did enjoy,
The charm my lover did employ,
What would the story of years,
Offer two scared teenagers – wet behind the ears.

I sat, dump and bereft,
With the whet, elastic residue
Which our rendezvous had left.

Fire of Man

There is a cold and dark fire within,
It burns, chars and maligns,
It curses and belies my sin,
It is the sin of masculinity to which I am aligned,
Through no fault or thought of my own I am guilty,
I must accept this very human frailty,
Regardless of how I conform or no,
To your senseless stereotyping of masculinity,
As a means to objectify and oppress femininity,
When so clearly one mask does not fit all,
I am not one type of man,
Nor you one type of woman,
Let us be as we are!

I share in the pain of my sisters and brothers,
A fire deep within us all expounds; and seeks warmth,
Which is the birthright of our fathers and mothers,
Beyond any cult or culture to dominate,
Or suffocate my voice, rejuvenated.
And so beautifully convoluted,
It sings amongst the plentiful and many,
A power ne’er to be feared, nor reviled;
So let the fire within burn bright,
For it is the passion of the soul in plain sight.
Yin and Yang are to plenty
A symbol to be utterly beguiled,
Illustrating a fascinating dance amongst the stars!