Matt Mooney

Rookie - 98 Points (1943 / South Galway, Ireland.)

Matt Mooney Poems

1. Outside 7/2/2009
2. The Isle Of Koh Tao 7/13/2009
3. Stepping Away 7/14/2009
4. From The Prom 7/14/2009
5. East To Latvia. 7/14/2009
6. Sound Effects 7/14/2009
7. Rustic Fellow 7/15/2009
8. St. Malo Maid 7/16/2009
9. Morning Star 7/19/2009
10. Inferno 7/19/2009
11. The Silencer 7/21/2009
12. Soft Trap 7/22/2009
13. Waltzing At The Fleadh 7/23/2009
14. Medugorje 7/24/2009
15. Swan Delight 7/25/2009
16. Vigil 7/27/2009
17. Montmartre 7/31/2009
18. Eyes Of The Glen 8/1/2009
19. Diversion 8/1/2009
20. Sunday Morning 8/6/2009
21. Tailback 8/7/2009
22. Solitude 8/7/2009
23. Overheard 8/7/2009
24. River Fields 8/7/2009
25. Deadlines 8/7/2009
26. Tunes 8/7/2009
27. Our Laughing Cavalier 8/10/2009
28. On His Bike 8/10/2009
29. New Roads 8/10/2009
30. Tom Moon 8/10/2009
31. Land Of The Leachtáns 8/14/2009
32. Totus Tuus-Totally Yours 8/14/2009
33. Seats In The Sun 8/14/2009
34. Thistledown 8/14/2009
35. Sunday Shoes 9/7/2009
36. Cois Laoi 9/30/2009
37. Hurling Hero 10/20/2009
38. Au Pied De La Croix 11/12/2009
39. Snakes Alive 1/17/2010
40. Coming From The Casbah 1/19/2010
Best Poem of Matt Mooney

Always Eighteen

The clearness of a dream
I had in bed last night
Has dimmed at dawn-
I'm awake and looking west,
Its dialogue in a deep sleep
Now almost vanished
In the wash of awakening.

In the dream, so real I swear,
She appeared:
Into my head as I slept she crept:
Always eighteen.
As lovely as I left her
At her father's hearth
And said our last goodbyes
To all the years of my unspoken love.
Love's Labour- I began to say,
(Speaking of the title of a play)
But there she stopped me
In my mid line
To finish it herself this time:
'Love's ...

Read the full of Always Eighteen

Barefoot

Scents of the Summer, incense to his senses,
The boy walks barefoot most of the way.
By hills of furze bushes above the soft bog,
Though ever so slowly the river flows free
Through flower beds of bright yellow wild iris
Where the black water hens hide every day.

In meadows the cowslips all are in bloom
But he has to hurry on fast to his school;

[Hata Bildir]