Fionn by Peter Humphreysyou could hear
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 04/12/2008
Author's Note: In ancient times, Fionn and the Fianna were the army of the High Kings of Ireland. They protected the king from invasion and internal threats. Fionn Mac Cumhaill was their best known leader. One of Fionn's favourite past-times was hunting in the Glenasmole in the Upper Dodder Valley. One of the mountains overlooking Glenasmole is called Seefin, which means "the seat of Finn".
Posted on 04/12/2008 Copyright © 2024 Peter Humphreys
Member Comments on this Poem |
Posted by George Hoerner on 04/12/08 at 06:52 PM Peter this flows so well! As if you stood beside him and wrote what he felt and saw. Another great piece sir. |
Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 04/12/08 at 07:55 PM Hi Peter. Wonderful poetics for this great Irish legend. If I remember right he still sleeps in a cave below Dublin, to awake and defend Ireland in the hour of her greatest need. Much enjoyed here. Thanks. |
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