For the past while my interest in the Irish Mytholical beliefs and tales has been reawoken and a passion for keeping such stories and tales alive, is high in my views for us Irish. Such tales and myths have fallen into the realms of forgotten lore in many areas and as Both an Irish man who has been learning our native language (what has been called gaelic or for us Irish the Irish Language), Such tales I believe help understand what a large part of Irish herritage that is now mostly forgotten.
As a Christian, I know much of this pretty much flies in the face of Christian Belief’s. But we Irish for so much can be pretty much believers in the supernatural and given a hand to the Irish respect for the supernatural and the Myths and Folklore that springs form Celtic beliefs. But there is a host of areas where one could write on from such beliefs.
Thus when sitting to write, I could have written on many of the folklore and tales of heros of Celic mythology, but nothing strikes one’s mind more than a Poem on the Sidhe = Pronounced shee! (welcome to the first Irish Language word in my poetry) Also Cairns : A cairn is a human-made pile (or stack) of stones raised for a purpose, usually as a marker or as a burial mound. The word cairn comes from the Irish: carn Or Think of it as K + AN + S.
For this Poem I have been struck by stories of the Sidhe who are Folks or folks who dwell in such areas like I have placed in this Poem. Sidhe = Fairy Folks or supernatural beings who dwell within burial mounds or close by. They were said to be magical and powerful being and not close to the cute beings one would imagine.
Before I move onto the Poem, Knockma is a Hill in county Galway ( on the western coast of the island) this place has a lot of stories and myths associated with it. To read any of these Click Here. This should provide further insight to the area I write on in the Poem.
Finally I write of such folklore and myths out of respect for what has been and is Irish Myths and Folklore, and my love for all things Irish worth knowing.
About The Poem:
Structured as close as I could with what I have tried to keep with over the past while. Aa, Bb rhyming with aliteration.
I have tried to explain as much a spossible the main parts one may need to understand. I understand that some faiths would rather not read or give creedance to but I will respect any who simly pass by. But as an Irish man I will keep with what poets have done in the past and write of such with respect and for them to never be forgotten as it is our herritage.
For those wishing to know more on the Sidhe (shee) read the content from this link.
I do hope that folkks can understand at leasy why I have taken on this task and why I write on this topic. Especislly when Halloween is not very far away in the future and has origin In Ireland. and also in the Irish language The month of November is Samhain , which have been taken to mean more associate with hallooween and certain movies that depict this and halloween.
Having said all of this; Please Enjoy This Poem:
((This is certainly not the best image for this Poem, But it is as close as possible. All thanks go to AI and its attempt to provide the image I asked for. Thus credit goes to that))
Cairns of Knockma
Knockma’s knotted cairns keep counsel with the night,
Where Cold and cloud-wrapped crown, a crest of spectral might;
Finnbheara’s fortress flickers, far from mortal view,
Yet Faint and fey the footfalls, in the drifting dew.
Ceasair’s silent shadow sleeps beneath the stone,
Secrets of the Sidhe in sacred whispers sown;
Maeve’s mist-bound mantle marks the moorland high,
Moonlit mounds remember every ancient sigh.
Heather-hushed the hilltop, haunted by the breeze,
Rain-wet heather’s blessing drifts among the trees;
Gale and glimmer gather, guarding what they keep,
Grey-eyed winds grow watchful, warning hearts to sleep.
Sudden shiver signals spirits near the glen,
Soft yet solemn presence stirs the souls of men;
Reverent we linger, lest their grace we spurn,
Risking Sidhe’s displeasure, should our hearts not learn.
Legends live in limestone, laced with loss and light,
Long the lore of Knockma holds the haunted night;
Humble we, the hearers, heed their hidden call,
Honour bound to silence, in the shadowed hall.
Copyright © Pat Fitzgerald 2025
ENDING THOUGHTS:
Thank you for following me on my little journey, that is composing or writing poetry. If Life is a journey which we all walk on and my journey in creating Poetry is a journey of it’s own. Which I still learn much on as I write.
At times I experiment on methods or way how I can improve my poetry, therefore getting feed back is always most welcome for such as these.
When I write poetry, some readers may be offended with something within the poetry. I do not write to offend, But such are written for reasons I outline in the posts. Often I miss typos and mistakes when publishing each poem. I correct the moment I discover such mistakes.
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