Art & Poetry
What you will find here are offerings made in devotion—some shaped in image, some in words—each carried to the flame in its own way.
— Tracy S.
— Tracy S.
— Tracy S.
— Erin T.
— Kris F.
— Sandra L.
— Morgayne E.
The forge of daylight Behind the woodland slides
And Stars , one by one,
Light up the darkening skies.
The last glimmer of sun
Frames the trees with fire.
A last wash of light comes
Before the deepening night.
My hearth is swept clean
Kindling replaced from forest floor.
Fireflies of glowing embers
Float up in the warmed air’s draw.
I light the sacred candle,
Watch The Eternal flame
Uncoiling and rising
Drawing forth my prayers.
Brighid with great gratitude
I shall tend your holy Fire
From dusk to dusk
I will keep your Love alight.
Grant me access to your
Well of inspiration
Teach me how to learn
The path to divination.
I ask it of you , not for self
I ask it for Earth Mother
How can we mend her failing body
How can we mend her broken Soul.
— Penny
I rise for rowan
I rise for oak
In your forge
The fires stoke
In your flame so bright
We forge a fiery rune
Reflect it to the world
Let me be your moon
— Mike M.
Lughnasadh Love
Come my dears to celebrate with me
Love in fullness we shall see
Bring your colors gold, orange and red
Wear vines and gems upon your head
Baskets of tasty herbs and roots
And please remember your harvest boots
Children carry small bags of grain
All has been growing in sun and rain
The cattle and chickens will all watch on
While Brighid and Goddesses lead joyous song
With burning lamp and my walking staff
I'll sprinkle 'round a little chaff
Give thanks for protection as we transform
Refreshed, renewed and then reborn
Given to us this fullness of love
Now we return it to earth and above
This is my invite to all of you
Lughnasadh in August; no need for ado!
— Mairead ⓒ 2022
“Go raibh maith agat”
Dear Brighid
“May good be at you” pours out my heart
For when I called you came with a start
To teach me love and patience kind
“Twas how I knew you didn’t mind
You shared your warmth in such a glow
Our minds one in embers low
Words gently flowed from you to me
Deep in my soul burned reverently
I pondered each with all concern
To shape a poem with more to yearn
Stories, poems gave birth to life
With added healing from all the strife
Now here we sit amid the flowers
Your fragrance lingers as gentle showers
Again, I shout so very loud
As you drift away in a misty cloud
“Thankyou Dear Brighid” for hearing my call
To share with me your gift of all!
— Mairead ⓒ 2025
BRIGID’S HOME
I am the Flamekeeper; one who waits
While burning flame opens gates
Dancing gracefully in the dark
In far distance sings softly, the lark
Closing my eyes with empty mind
To wait and wonder the beautiful find
Lifted gently across green hills
My spirit glides past ancient cills
I knew I was closer than I’d ever been
She drew me forward all very keen
With a gentle thump I landed there
In her stone kitchen open hearth to share
Round breads baking as she welcomed me
Just like us she made her tea
All glow around her smile so big
I truly felt to dance a jig!
Holding back my loving hug
Her beauty gave my heart a tug
Dressed she was in shades of green
Laced with firey orange so clean
A wee apron o’er top her garb
She dipped my bread in sweet rhubarb
Sharing with her brought such grace
I stared deep in her eyes and upon her face
We didn’t speak as you and I
Our hearts just spoke in peaceful sigh
It was time to leave as I felt the pull
No longer sad now being full
Full of her presence, love and care
I cherished my visit; took a lock of her hair
Slowly I drifted back to my time
Where remembering her like a chime
I thanked her with a tear in my eye
Said, “I’ll return to your home in the by and by!”
— Mairead ⓒ 2025
The Chiding
How ungentle you are with yourself, child.
Wanting to be what you want to be, right now and thoroughly.
The deep loam seems to you a swallowing dark.
You do not understand that sometimes the hottest of fires is needed to nurture the mightiest of trees.
Patience,
For my urgency is not yours.
And becoming is a process with no true end.
Hold out your hand open,
Not grasping and greedy nor desperate for the way out or the walls of what is not a prison but a seed.
Settle yourself here with the curiosity of a small child who does not yet know that names exist.
And so begins their own naming.
You are not a thing to be found, no map nor rescue could lead the way to safety.
Unfurl in this place, send out your wild tendrils.
You will know when it is time to reach.
— AN Gorniak