Poem of the Week: Loch Gorman

I mostly post my poetry first on Instagram, (unless it is a patron-exclusive poem). Then, each Sunday here on the blog, I post the poem that has got the most Insta likes.

If you’re on Instagram, let’s follow each other. You’ll find my account Orna Ross.poetry here.

The poems are inspired by photographs, sometimes taken by me, sometimes by others.

My most popular poem on Instagram this week was “Loch Gorman”.

Loch Gorman is the old Irish word for Wexford, where I was raised. I’ve never been away from home so long and I’m being inundated with memories, mostly of moments in nature (lockdown in London will do that to a Wexford woman).

Sooooo looking forward to a trip home as soon as Ireland opens up. In the meantime, a poem.

And now for this week’s poem:

Loch Gorman

The flat waves collapsing near salt marsh.
Mud revealed where the estuary drained.
A single tree’s salt-spattered branches,
twigs budding green fingers again.
The boats setting out for the fishing.
The one-legged stance of the crane.

Earth, sea and sky breathe in whispers
of what’s passed under
and through
and along.

Out to sea, the billowing rollers.
On the lake edge, a paddling swan.
And close by the back road, the dolmen,
stones from an Ireland long gone.
Even stone sings for only a moment,
next moment finds it’s unsung.

The dolmen stands and remembers
what’s passed under
and through
and along.

The grey light over grey grasses
where overnighting otters have lain.
Geese swooping into the rushes.
The spring mist turning to rain.
And the droplets, glistens of dew light,
Ornamenting the wordless domain.

Low land, high skies and flat water
Passing under
and through
and along.

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