Seamus Heaney

[bounatirou]

Hi,

I'm a student preparing a study about seamus heaney poetry. any help concerning the subject would be welcomed (sites, email adresses...) thanks in advance for your help.
Bye :rolleyes:

[Ron Price]

Since this item was the only one on Heaney at this site, perhaps my posting tonight will at least bring closure to this thread.

HURT INTO POETRY

The poet, and the poetry of, Seamus Heaney is not a product of the Northern Ireland conflict, except in the sense that his is a sensibility that seeks to assuage and to heal. It would not be true to say of Heaney, as Auden wrote of Yeats, that “mad Ireland hurt Heaney into poetry,” or that the conflict in his native province, as has been suggested, has significantly stimulated him as a writer. Unlike the early Auden, whose genius was sharpened by the revolutionary currents of the thirties, Heaney would prefer not to have lived in a time of violence.” On the other hand, if Heaney is seen as a symbol of rapprochement and healing, then the political symbolism of his Nobel Prize is brilliantly apt. -Richard Tillinghast, “Seamus Heaney’s Middle Voice” The Criterion Online, Vol. 17, No. 9, May 1999.

When Heaney was 14 his family left the farm where he had been reared from his birth in 1939. His life since then, since 1953, has been a series of moves farther and farther away from his birthplace. But these departures have been more geographical than psychological. Rural County Derry, the "country of the mind" is where much of Heaney's poetry is still grounded. Heaney's poems first came to public attention in the mid-1960s when he was in his mid-twenties. Heaney always had a deep preoccupation with the question of poetry's responsibilities and prerogatives in the world. His poetry was poised, such was Heaney’s view, between his need for creative freedom and the pressure he felt to express his sense of social obligation as a poet and as a citizen. –Ron Price with thanks to “Biography of Seamus Heaney,” Nobelprize.org.

I, too, moved further and further away
from my birthplace and, by the end of
my years, I was about as far away as I
could be and still be on the planet Earth.

The country of my mind was not the land
where I was born, though it often appeared
in my mind’s eye unannounced without even
knocking at the door and making its own cup
of tea in the kitchen before sitting down to chat.

My poetry came much later that yours, Seamus:
poured out of me about the time I was fifty and
still does in these early years of late adulthood1
And yes, it’s all about poetry’s responsibilities
and prerogatives and my social obligations in an
Order that is the structure of a moderate freedom2
for humanity in the tempest of this antediluvian Age.

And was I hurt into poetry as Yeats way back then?
Well, partly Seamus, partly--then there was healing
and the river flowed down to the sea quietly at times
often in swirling-white currents going every which way.

1 developmental pscyologists define late adulthood as the years 60 to 80.
2 Letter to the Followers of Baha’u’llah in the United States of America,” The Universal House of Justice, 29 December 1988

Ron Price
10 July 2007

[dramasnot6]

We are studying Heaney in my lit class in a few months, I would love to discuss Heaney and his works with anyone interested and will check into this thread with new info when the time comes. :) Thanks for the good info ron

[dramasnot6]

And come discuss some Seamus Heaney!
If you are interested in the man or his works, here is the place to discuss.
Let's start with one of his most famous:


Act of Union

I

To-night, a first movement, a pulse,
As if the rain in bogland gathered head
To slip and flood: a bog-burst,
A gash breaking open the ferny bed.
Your back is a firm line of eastern coast
And arms and legs are thrown
Beyond your gradual hills. I caress
The heaving province where our past has grown.
I am the tall kingdom over your shoulder
That you would neither cajole nor ignore.
Conquest is a lie. I grow older
Conceding your half-independant shore
Within whose borders now my legacy
Culminates inexorably.
.....



I can see two interpretations for this poem.
1) It can be viewed as commentary on the power relationship between men and women, establishing Heaney as a bit of a feminist I s'pose ;)

2) From my understanding of Irish history(which is limited), the persona of this poem can also represent England, the woman addressed represeting Ireland. With further contextual knowledge I would love to be able to expand on this.

Overall I think it expresses the patriarchal assertion of dominance and power (be it individually with a man asserting dominance over a woman, or a country over a country) through conquering territory.

What do you think? Any more poems of his people like?

[dramasnot6]

Casualty


I

He would drink by himself
And raise a weathered thumb
Towards the high shelf,
Calling another rum
And blackcurrant, without
Having to raise his voice,
Or order a quick stout
By a lifting of the eyes
And a discreet dumb-show
Of pulling off the top;
At closing time would go
In waders and peaked cap
Into the showery dark,
A dole-kept breadwinner
But a natural for work.
I loved his whole manner,
Sure-footed but too sly,
His deadpan sidling tact,
His fisherman's quick eye
And turned observant back.

...........

Seamus Heaney

[dramasnot6]

Blackberry-picking


Late August, given heavy rain and sun
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger
Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots
Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.
Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills
We trekked and picked until the cans were full,
Until the tinkling bottom had been covered
With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned
Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered
With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard's.

...............

Seamus Heaney

[Niamh]

And come discuss some Seamus Heaney!
If you are interested in the man or his works, here is the place to discuss.
Let's start with one of his most famous:



I can see two interpretations for this poem.
1) It can be viewed as commentary on the power relationship between men and women, establishing Heaney as a bit of a feminist I s'pose ;)

2) From my understanding of Irish history(which is limited), the persona of this poem can also represent England, the woman addressed represeting Ireland. With further contextual knowledge I would love to be able to expand on this.

Overall I think it expresses the patriarchal assertion of dominance and power (be it individually with a man asserting dominance over a woman, or a country over a country) through conquering territory.

What do you think? Any more poems of his people like?

What i'm interptreting is that he is showing his passion for his country by personifying Ireland as a woman, all the while reminding her of her past wounds at the hands of men. That the battle scars of the past still show, and have torn her in two. i think in the second part he is touching on the newer open wounds caused by the Troubles in northern Ireland. Very powerful poem. I love Heaney and studied him when i was 15 for my junior cert.

[dramasnot6]

I like that Niamh, I think so too. Maybe i was trying to be overanalytical, but I do love how Heaney really shows his passion for his country.

[Niamh]

I like that Niamh, I think so too. Maybe i was trying to be overanalytical, but I do love how Heaney really shows his passion for his country.

I think the best approach with Heaney is not to look too deep into it. Most of the time what he is trying to convey is hovering on the surface of the poem. I remember another thread where someone was asking whether or not there was sexual imagery in the poem "Digging". Now this was a case of delving too deep into the poem, the poem being about is dad.:p I liked your concepts though.

[quasimodo1]

To Dramasnot6: You know about the other Seamus Heaney thread? right. quasi

[Niamh]

Quasi there is also the irish coffee thread that drama set up. Its a Heaney discussion group thread.:)

[Niamh]

Digging


Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; as snug as a gun.

Under my window a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
Bends low, comes up twenty years away
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills
Where he was digging.

...............




What do see in this one Drama?(you'll have great knowledge before you go beck to school)

[Pensive]

Digging

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; as snug as a gun.



It seems beautiful to me. Looks like tha author is mentioning the occupation of his forefathers, and his own one, writing, which seems to differ from them. How one can discover things deep down with the help of books/text. And how different things can be obtained with the help of this pen (written mateiral). Like pleasure or even food for thought perhaps.

[dramasnot6]

What do see in this one Drama?(you'll have great knowledge before you go beck to school)


Digging


Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; as snug as a gun.

.............



Heaney seems to use his father’s and his grandfather’s digging into the the homeland ground as a comparison to his writing and development of his poetry. Like Pensive said, Heaney produces a sensual effect by playing with the language throughout his poem, using images that appeal to our senses like sounds, sight, touch and smell. Heaney wants the reader to be skilled in what we do, and not try to be someone were not. Heaney shows great respect for his father and grandfathers manual labor, but acknowledges he can never be like them.

[Niamh]

I like this poem because it is like Heaney, admiring the strength of the men in his family, is at a loss as he knows he will never fallow in their footsteps. He has no spade, only a pen, so he'll dig up the land his family loved through strength of words.:)

[dramasnot6]

I like this poem because it is like Heaney, admiring the strength of the men in his family, is at a loss as he knows he will never fallow in their footsteps. He has no spade, only a pen, so he'll dig up the land his family loved through strength of words.:)

That's such a lovely way of stating it Niamh! You always capture the very heart of the poem. I think my lit class trained me excessively in picking poems apart, I have to learn from you to delve into the soul of the thing first :)

[Niamh]

That's such a lovely way of stating it Niamh! You always capture the very heart of the poem. I think my lit class trained me excessively in picking poems apart, I have to learn from you to delve into the soul of the thing first :)

Like i said before, i believe that Heaneys meaning only hovers on the surface of most of his poems. For some there is no need to analyse it bit by bit like many other poets. But sometimes an understanding of the world the poet grew up in can amplify the meaning, or as you put it ,the soul of the poem. It is similar with Patrick Kavanagh.:)

[monellia]

I think the best approach with Heaney is not to look too deep into it. Most of the time what he is trying to convey is hovering on the surface of the poem.

Agreed. It takes a talent to communicate messages to an audience, rather than presenting a profusion of underlying thoughts for them to decipher. What I like about Heaney is his ability to reconstruct such a profusion of thoughts to appeal to the reader's understanding. It takes effort. That said, I find the actual messages simple.

[kiz_paws]

I like this poem because it is like Heaney, admiring the strength of the men in his family, is at a loss as he knows he will never fallow in their footsteps. He has no spade, only a pen, so he'll dig up the land his family loved through strength of words.:)

How well put, Niamh. And thank you for posting that poem, I am adding it to my favorites list. BTW, drama, you did not do a bad job of analysing the poem, I thought your ideas were well put, to. Thanks to you both! :)

[Niamh]

Agreed. It takes a talent to communicate messages to an audience, rather than presenting a profusion of underlying thoughts for them to decipher. What I like about Heaney is his ability to reconstruct such a profusion of thoughts to appeal to the reader's understanding. It takes effort. That said, I find the actual messages simple.

i think its the same with lots of Irish poets though. When i comes to nostalgic poems, most of the time its a reflection, and to dig into the poem looking for hidden meanings, means you'll over look the true meaning, which is simply convayed in both the words of the poem and the context.

Kiz, look at the Irish poems thread. There are alot more wonderful poems there!:)

[monellia]

It's odd how that particular style seems to be common with alot of Irish poets, as though their shared heritage had influenced their approach to writing overall. It's almost philosophical.

And yeah, Niamh's analysis of Digging was dead on :)

[Niamh]

must be in our blood then Monellia!;)

[dryden_now]

Hi every one,
I
am English Literature student from Iraq. I intend to write a thesis about the Irish poet Seamus Heaney, and the importance of lanscape in his poetry. Would you please help me to find suitable websites which provide me access to his poetry, essays and articles or criticism about his poetry...
thanks

we should not forget one important thing when reading Heaney's poetry: the importance of both Irish troubles and his own experienece. That is especially obviuos in poems like "Causality", "Digging", "Blackberry Picking" ..etc.
anyone interrested in discussing Heaney please email me :
[email protected]

[IrishMark]

Don't know if anyone here is familiar with his work, particularly his bog poems. Anyways, was interested in whether anybody considered how bog poems as an apology for the troubles in Northern Ireland or would you consider this to be taken a step too far? (all, only if people are familiar with his work, as being Irish, I don't know how Americans, for example may feel on the matter.)