Matt Mooney Poems

Ceist agam orm féin:
Ó chrann atá lom
Cad é an síor gearán
Sa choill atá láimh liom?
...

Shannon Airport is at Exit 9-
That way went each of mine;
An embrace to say goodbye:
Time enough the time to cry;
...

Destination in the distance,
Another summer swallow
On a long haul flight
A mile above Malaysia,
...

Bono and Bob in Live Eight in Hyde Park:
It’s our boys that’s doing the business;
They're heroes of rock, heralds of hope
Across the broad bands of the media.
...

The warm balm of the velvet breeze
Wafts around the bungalow gable
By the sheltering sycamore trees,
Caressing my face at the table.
...

The morning train to Dublin
Carrying me comfortably;
Fascinated by a lady’s face
In the hand mirror she held
...

I see him as the signalman
On the unseen tracks of time
A family priest for all of us-
As we travel down the line.
...

Earth to Earth

Oh to be as still as the lily pads
Floating in the billabong
...

Rustling the ditch's floral skirt for strawberries:
Red and wild, elusive little rubies of delight,
Hidden as they hang, no bigger than a haw:
Vying with the velvet bells of purple foxgloves,
...

Crossing elegant Victoria railway station
She reaches for her ringing mobile phone:
Young and yet without an ounce of fear,
Still moving onward as it sings its signal.
...