Matt Mooney

Veteran Poet - 1,142 Points (1943 / South Galway, Ireland.)

The Old Accordion. - Poem by Matt Mooney

Eyes mesmerized by long musical fingers
Reaching out across the centuries’ divide
To draw from the wellsprings of the past,
Divining the pure music that he inherited
With the old accordion- a prized possession
Passed on from one generation to another:
Played proudly too for fellow Irish exiles
In New York, back in the nineteen twenties.


Comments about The Old Accordion. by Matt Mooney

  • Smoky HossSmoky Hoss (11/7/2011 2:58:00 PM)

    More than nostalgia, this is a work of the human soul. Very good. (Report)Reply

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  • Patrick LadbrookePatrick Ladbrooke (10/10/2011 1:38:00 AM)

    I like the sentiment and style. Great reflective moments, just what I like to see in poems! (Report)Reply

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  • Romeo Della ValleRomeo Della Valle (10/9/2011 7:01:00 PM)

    Amazing! Just the title caught my immediate attention since it brought instant memories of my late uncle who loved to play the accordion every day and night. I grew up listening to his mellow songs. You clearly detailed your fabulous experience! 10+++ Thank you for sharing! Love and Peace for always! Romeo from New York City! ... (Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Poem Edited: Saturday, October 22, 2011


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