Jami Patterson Poet Other

Notes About The Poem

Green to the Gills' Contest Info Sponsor Daniel Henry Rodgers 03/17/2026

The Shadow of the Fomhoraigh

Form: Séadna



The hawk hung high on heavy wing,
Above the grey, gasping tide;
Where gorse–gold fires fiercely sting,
And the pale–faced changelings hide.

A silver breath on basalt stone,
Where the cold, keen waters climb;
The sea–caves hum a hollow tone,
A rhythmic reaching of time.

The Fomhóraigh stir in the peat,
Where the dark, deep bog–pools sleep;
With rhythmic pulse and restless feet,
A secret, old watch they keep.

One–eyed kings in the iron mist,
They rise from the shelf of salt;
With a heavy, crushing, blue fist,
And a step that makes earth halt.

The rowan bows it's berried head,
To the wind's wide, wintry wail;
Where ancient kings and heroes bled,
Beneath a torn, misty veil.

The currach dances on the crest,
Of a salt, soul–shaking swell;
The sailor seeks a silent rest,
Where the deep–sea giants dwell.

A lightning fracture splits the blue,
Over jagged, iron shore;
The old world breaks and births anew,
In the Atlantic's wild roar.

The emerald pulse of Ireland's heart,
In the rain's rich, rushing scent;
A landscape torn and pulled apart,
In a wild, green wonderment.

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Trina Layne April 6, 2026 at 7:08 AM Congratulations, Jami! Enjoyed the use of language and great pulse.

Chetta Achara March 17, 2026 at 11:26 PM An excellently written poem. I did look up the meaning of the Fomhoraigh, which only added to the pleasure of reading the poem. Best of luck in the contest.