Matt Mooney

Freshman - 894 Points (1943 / South Galway, Ireland.)

New Grain - Poem by Matt Mooney

Bend down and gather up neat swathes of corn,
Follow on the man with the scythe in the morn;
Binding every sheaf tight with a band of its own
And remembering the spring when it was sown:
Seed, as a blessing shook, on fresh fertilised soil;
Before our eyes a green field of hope in a while.
Haymaking as the corn ripened in summertime,
Now it's ripe and ready to be mown in its prime.
In the cornfield that would shimmer and shiver;
In each sheaf the ears are now bound together.
But soon the thresher's here with its rise and fall;
Farmers from around know it's a call to them all.
With their pikes held aloft having plenty of craic;
That strong man hoists a bag of oats on his back
And carries it up the stairs to the loft in the barn
As he looks forward to tea and swopping a yarn;
There the man of the house by a bagful he lingers
And he lets the new grain run through his fingers.

Poet's Notes about The Poem

That was how it was in my life in the West of Ireland in the 1950's.

Comments about New Grain by Matt Mooney

  • Valerie Dohren (6/18/2012 10:13:00 AM)

    Great poem, very well written and beautifully rhymed. (Report) Reply

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  • Zoya Khalid (4/27/2012 12:15:00 PM)

    A beautiful poem........ pulls me down to the Earth....and yet elevating.
    I am pleased.....
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, April 22, 2012

Poem Edited: Monday, April 23, 2012

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