Poetry Porch: Poetry


Niall of the Nine Hostages Dreams
by Ann Egan

“I awoke from a dream in silvered dawn,
My Hearties, in silvered dawn.
Manannáin MacLir bade me,
Great Niall of the Nine Hostages:
Search horizon’s low ways, high ways,
for waiting somewhere in all glory
is your Tenth Hostage who’ll bear you,
fearless leader, riches beyond telling.

He owns the measure of seabed wealth
where creatures toil in moonlight
when it falls through byeways
of my own sweet ocean kingdom.

He commands satchels of gold,
large as the midday sun’s bounty,
bright as the northern star guiding
sea warriors with their booty.

Seers boast of his wealth,
prophesy in runes and stones,
sing about Bealtaine’s fire of
fortune’s gems for his gathering.

Seek keenly so on every shore
this mighty one amidst myriads
of his slaves, his soldiers.
Look for richest attire, haughtiest eye.

Go with care, with all your cunning.
Be the seal singing at eventide
of love, loss, memory of better times.
Be the swallow on the ninth wave.
“I’ll make you proud chieftains
of your homelands if you enslave
this powerful man of gems untold.
If you but capture me my dream!

“My Hearties, find my tenth hostage.
I am king of sailors, king of pirates,
I’ve broken men of west and north.
I bow only to Manannáin MacLir.”

Copyright © 2013 by Ann Egan.