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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PORTRAIT

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

You dared to drift too close to shore
Upon the head of Bagenbaun
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AUTUMN THOUGHTS

The knotted branch of reason sheds its leaves
Creating lifeless coppered matting
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OH TORTURED SOUL

What hidden anguish have you got?
With worry etched upon your face
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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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And I, I die in ageing, I just cannot keep pace
Inside, hormones raging, outside, the human race
I lie, in enervation by a Mediterranean pool
A quite accepting nation of an old lethargic fool
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I drift beside the pure crowned homes
that hide behind the drifts
virginal capes on snow capped domes
loosed from clouded rifts
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