Monday, 29 June 2009

Saturday, 20 June 2009

Michael & Mary

I met Michael comimg out of the Care Home
A quiet snowflake of a man white and heavy haired
His wife is in a coma ' so it would be no use reading her poetry"
An Irishman alone with his life cases of memories.

I will dedicate ' Butlers Bridge ' to Mary & Michael on my debut reading.
and hope the words fall softly on her brow
and the sun shine warm upon her face

Watford Library Wed 24 July 7.30 - 10 pm
Central Library Hempstead Road Watford WD17 3EU

See u there or until we meet again may your God go with you.

Monday, 15 June 2009

Clearances by Seamus Heaney

When all the others were away at Mass
I was all hers as we peeled potatoes.
They broke the silence, let fall one by one
Like solder weeping off the soldering iron:
Cold comforts set between us, things to share
Gleaming in a bucket of clean water.
And again let fall. Little pleasant splashes
From each other's work would bring us to our senses.

So while the parish priest at her bedside
Went hammer and tongs at the prayers for the dying
And some were responding and some crying
I remembered her head bent towards my head,
Her breath in mine, our fluent dipping knives--
Never closer the whole rest of our lives.

© 1987 Seamus Heaney

Saturday, 6 June 2009

Seamus Heaney

You ve got to listen to this man - here's his verse and
opposite my reading.

Cant you just slip into that deep world..?


All year the flax-dam festered in the heart
Of the townland; green and heavy headed
Flax had rotted there, weighted down by huge sods.
Daily it sweltered in the punishing sun.
Bubbles gargled delicately, bluebottles
Wove a strong gauze of sound around the smell.
There were dragon-flies, spotted butterflies,
But best of all was the warm thick slobber
Of frogspawn that grew like clotted water
In the shade of the banks. Here, every spring
I would fill jampotfuls of the jellied
Specks to range on window-sills at home,
On shelves at school, and wait and watch until
The fattening dots burst into nimble-
Swimming tadpoles. Miss Walls would tell us how
The daddy frog was called a bullfrog
And how he croaked and how the mammy frog
Laid hundreds of little eggs and this was
Frogspawn. You could tell the weather by frogs too
For they were yellow in the sun and brown
In rain.
Then one hot day when fields were rank
With cowdung in the grass the angry frogs
Invaded the flax-dam; I ducked through hedges
To a coarse croaking that I had not heard
Before. The air was thick with a bass chorus.
Right down the dam gross-bellied frogs were cocked
On sods; their loose necks pulsed like sails. Some hopped:
The slap and plop were obscene threats. Some sat
Poised like mud grenades, their blunt heads farting.
I sickened, turned, and ran. The great slime kings
Were gathered there for vengeance and I knew
That if I dipped my hand the spawn would clutch it.
© 1987 Seamus Heaney