Matt Mooney Poems

By the last rays of the winter sun
I seem to smell the signs of Spring.
Those ewes we'd bring
Into the shelter of this lofty barn:
...

I can see afar those flowing fields
Sloping down from old stone walls
To that deep and embedded dip-
Cupping the presence of the pond
...

The best weather people in all of the world
wouldn't predict a scene with such a sheen
on calm sea waters mirroring the clear sky
with bright banks of fluffy clouds behind,
...

Sonny O'Dee, our master's mate,
Closed the gate and lifted the latch
Of the door painted in national green
After he tied up his jennet outside.
...

This year's maize turns green to yellow,
Ripening by the hour in Healy's fields:
Corn with a continental look,
Growing near the grotto in Killocrim;
...

Father of a boy and girl
busy in the playground
down in the town park,
launching them high up
...

I had a dream last night

of children - little fugitives,
...

We returned from school by his boreen
And we stopped off for a while to chat;
He had a big grey dog good at barking,
An idle easy going donkey; never a cat;
...

Warm nest of love birds-
Well kept secrets seldom told,
...

Spring left her golden cloak behind her,
It's suspended in the branches of a tree
...