Achill Poem by Martin Moore

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