Skip to content

Seamus

January 23, 2010

I’ve been digging through old files. Here’s a poem I wrote ten or twelve years ago, after reading a very large amount of Seamus Heaney. It has been whittled down (a very specific form of editing) several times over the course of the intervening years. I’m not quite sure what to do with it, but I’m not quite sure I shouldn’t do something with it…

Seamus

I am singing of vagrant philosophers,
breath reeking of sour charity,
ragged coats flapping like the wing
of a broken thrush.

I am singing of field and fen,
of the swamp and leaf and blanket
of frost, the small sweet abrasions
a landscape marks on a fresh and malleable

soul. I am showing memories
that run like cinema-shows, a people divided,
a childhood restored. I am looking
at the tiny details that describe the whole.

I want to sweep myself like a burning brand
to goad the horned fall of history.

Advertisements
2 Comments leave one →
  1. February 22, 2010 5:25 pm

    …small sweet abrasions… Love how you use your words, Jamie.

Trackbacks

  1. Sonnets « Reading and Writing with Ian and Isabella

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: