Live Encounters Poetry & Writing, Volume One, December 2020.
Polly Richardson Munnelly is Dublin born poet, currently living and writing in Dingle co Kerry, Ireland .She continues to run the Bulls Arse Writers group Navan co Meath remotely and her Tuesday’s Zoomers group of international poets. She has been published both nationally and internationally. Her debut collection Winter’s Breath is out and available on Amazon. She is currently working on her second collection.
On the crest of wave, mountain, hill
under full constellations
hidden by blue, yet there. Right there, reasoning.
Stilling in my quakes beyond footfalls seeking
their own indentations, where rainbows kiss,
shadows quieten, caught in sun-light-slinks
unawares of mid-blink pauses,
I hear grass sing. Seep into
lone stag greets moon as
if lover baying
his instinctual plight.
Each tree absorbs those
echoes, saves them
for birthing themselves. Tucks them tightly
under gnarly bark with warmest of sap
Bridge – Beaufort Kerry
Echoes of footfalls. I stand. Mimic Heron
The place of two directions. Easting west, as if
swaddled in by Carrantuohill’s mountainous arms – beckoning,
lullaby hummed beyond her clouds,
looked on by MacGillycuddys Reeks knowing his
nature’s nurturing, flowing Laune’s succulence. I beckon,
yearn Dunloe’s kiss, seeped in stories etched in Ogham,
circling centuries, their whispers vibrate to the listeners.
Distortions grapple as rapids bounce, play.
Bathe my eyes, sink into silt beds,
copper rich contorting
rooted flora neon lush bedded where sun
breaks her bleak,
I stand, mimic Heron,
and merging merpeople’s murmur
between the shimmers, greening pleats,
gather in shoals matching moans,
I blink, leave eye lash for next wish upon- a- frog.
Flowers still bloom under autumnal breath,
knowing barren slumber awaits Imbloc serenade,
Loan Raven perches left,
*Beaufort – A small beautiful Irish village located on the southern banks
of the river Laune in County Kerry, Ireland.
Dingle Wilds 7 – Dandelion
From bee whispers they form, sun yellow as lemons on trees
megalithic- still awaiting awakening like Sleeping Giant and the Skellig’s
afloat on horizons, cradled by her pull.
Dotting like earthen constellations amongst green grasses swaying waves
catching bare footfalls in-tune, as rabbits basking, twitch timeless amongst burrows
and the dead.
All enveloped. The Three Sisters silent serenades as if Sirens enchanting
lures to bare footfalls listening, awaiting flowering transfigurations to disperse.
To winds, each one will dance with a wish delicately blown
I imagine fairies, translucent,
seedlings in flight, over turquoise- blueing sea swell and churns
to the Blaskets beyond
maybe fall on rugged edges kissing Dun Chaoin and paint listening purpling boulders fringing Ventry’s sands crowning them king as those sea churns come rolling with white horses pounding, gifting her strand,
or greet at the mouth of sucklers and heifers, bathing, nasal licking, playing peek -a-boo in the silence of their kingdom on Ballydavid’s own hum , where the shags mimic megalith -still, each wing held up to sun as if in yoga meditations or frozen flight,
like chameleon their blackness blends them in on jagged rock jutting up, birthed by sea, keeps their secrets.
And the dandelion takes root, cocooned awaiting awakenings to greet bee hums
be sun yellow as lemons on trees.
*Dingle – An Daingean – Is a small yet bustling beautiful town nestled in the heart of the Dingle Peninsula, County Kerry, Ireland.
© Polly Richardson