Martin Moore
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
...
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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DREAMCATCHER
0h dreamcatcher
Capture all my dreams
Don't disperse a single one
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Here in this phantom photo-period of mid-sleep
Lies a wealth of raw material untapped
Larval poems pupate within the deep
Intrinsic monkey mind, trapped, handicapped
...
Having no recourse to pastures new
Other than to break the earths green crust
Riches long concealed emerge anew
Toil and grind can render gold from dirt
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A pied wagtail comes flitting back
Performing a poly-chromatic rave
In subtle shades of white, grey and black
Each curtsy a friendly wave
...
Timbers gapped like old seafaring gobs
Hinges hang loose like old breeches
Ending your days as a thingamabob
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Ophelia, oh noble storm
your latent anger, onerous
reveal your hand, your female form
your errant madness over us
...
A darkening sky begins to cry
falling leaves paint abstract art
on an october coloured river
...
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The Best Poem Of Martin Moore
Achill
Achill
The Achill sound is calling me to its bare and barren shore
A sanctuary to which I flee in the shadow of Slievemore
I long to walk Keel beach again and wander through the hills
And stroll Dooniver in the rain, to breathe and take my fill
Of scenery so rare and grand, an unspoilt heavens bed
And rest a while upon Keem strand on the way to Achill head
No better journey can be had at dusk or seen at dawn
Than the panoramic vista from the broad back of Minaun
To walk the deserted village route in the early morning mist
And linger savouring the view, a must upon the list
And Mick "The Shore" on race day circling the sound
The wind, the yawl, the silent bay and the cheers from the hotel grounds
And Grainnes castle peeping on the little quay below
Or the tidal waters seeping with the daily ebb and flow
The slipway at Bulls Head to Inisbiggles shores
Romantic dreamers fed and all left yearning more
Take a look at Achill beag from the wonders of corran
The wild Atlantic beauty tugs at the heart of every one
Clare Island in the distance mysterious and dark
Where land and water meet per chance the white foam horses lark
Upon that ancient sacred Isle of past poetic lore
I'll stand in awe at every mile ‘til I return once more
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4/26/2024 3:05:15 PM # 1.0.0.1119
