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#1 (permalink) | |
Junkie
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A poem - 29 May 2005
I used to post some of my favourite poems here regulary; both for comment, discussion and enlightenment. I haven't done so in quite some time, but shall try to do so once more.
Here's one of my favourites, not least because it is by Ireland's only living Nobel Laureate, Seamus Heany. Quote:
I love the way it touches on three generations; his father digging potatoes at home, his grandfather digging turf and he, the poet himself, digging... digging for words, foir meaning, for something, with his tool... his spade... his pen... I guess this poem may not mean much to many on this board. But I decided to share it. Poetry is a great medium and I lament its waning... Mr Mephisto |
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#2 (permalink) |
Drifting
Administrator
Location: Windy City
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I enjoyed reading this - it makes you wonder if the father being watched by his son did the same with his father, or if they each started alone, to look up and notice the one ahead had found their own source to dig. We each travel a different path, thus we experience difference. Yet there is a sense of community in the journey.
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Calling from deep in the heart, from where the eyes can't see and the ears can't hear, from where the mountain trails end and only love can go... ~~~ Three Rivers Hare Krishna |
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2005, poem |
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