Matt Mooney Poems

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.
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Self-contained in selfdrive cars:
Families, my daughter's and my own
In a blue Focus and a light blue Fiesta,
Driving always in formation-
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Kookaburras came like Carmelites
Arriving reverently in twos;
Landing quietly without a coo
On the paperbark tea trees
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The half moon begins its harvest climb;
This night is sure to be as bright as day.
The turf fires kindle and flame into life
In the hillside homes this evening time.
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You and your fiancé on Facebook
Wrapped up in the Irish tricolour,
Waving to us from Mount Everest.
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I am the herald of the morning.

It was I who kissed your brow;
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Bedecked with fans of ferns and little purple flowers,
Glad earth if you but could raise your lips to mine
And someway sling your leafy arms around my neck
I would lay with you and forever be your nature lover.
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In Victoria on Vancouver Island
‘The Pirate’ is at his work;
Most industrious and indiscreet-
Dismissive of the motley flow,
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She was from West Belfast she said:
On a high stool in a pub on a corner
Playing free the spoons on her knee,
As we blasted away across from her.
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On main roads it’s a bumperland-
It’s no joke to be driving anymore:
Awful accidents, death statistics,
Greenhouse gases, big meltdown;
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