Martin Moore Poems

Achill

The Achill sound is calling me to its bare and barren shore
A sanctuary to which I flee in the shadow of Slievemore
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THE SHADOW

In intimate rings of tongue-tied tales
Through tender bracken stems
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Forgetful
In my mind I think I'm twenty still
With years to go and time a plenty
Truth is, I'm travelling fast downhill
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PORTRAIT

Forming a two headed bodiless beast
Two horses behind the low stone wall
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SEA EAGLE

You dared to drift too close to shore
Upon the head of Bagenbaun
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SYCAMORE BLUES

That winged samara, indehiscent seed
Seduced me with your fluttering side show
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THE ARRIVAL

Patience is a virtue or that's what they say
It's hard to be patient on this kind of day
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THE BREATH

Beneath the blackthorn bower
The fern fronds dance to gentle winds
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The decline of Ballyvoole forge

A misty grey, March morning light
Hangs above its breached and balding crown
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THE ROCK CORPSE OF KILFARRASY

On its broad Atlantic slab, the rock corpse lies
Steadfast, without motion.
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