Recently, while mulling over my next mystery to write, I've been reading a lot of poetry. A couple of weeks ago, I stumbled on this beautiful collection of Seamus Heaney's poems—100 of them over the course of his publishing life, compiled by his children and wife.
I love poetry and have read it off and on, quite haphazardly, through the years, so I've encountered his name. Also, a former writing teacher quoted one of his poems often—the first one in this collection, as a matter of fact: "Digging." Beautiful language and lingering images. But I had never settled down to read more of his poetry until I got this collection.
I am simply spellbound! His poems paint portraits that come alive, tell stories in scenes that put you right there. He retells history. He was an Irish poet and has that magical, musical way with words. (I have always been a W. B. Yeats fan for the same reasons.)
I purposely have been reading these poems just a few at a time, so as to savor them and not let them all run together in a mishmash. And I highly recommend this book for a soothing entry into places that beckon on a cold, rainy day—which is what we've been having off and on lately in Braga.
How about you? Are you a poetry lover? If so, who is your favorite poet? (I'm always interested in recommendations.) Have you read Heaney's poetry before?
To be honest, Elizabeth, I never got into poetry, even when we had to read it in high school. However, I am aware of the lovely lyrics of several Irish songwriters, so this may be something I might actually enjoy. Thanks for the recommendation.
ReplyDeleteBTW, you misunderstood my lead in to today's post. Bleubeard and I are NOT stepping away from AJJ. It is just our final day as hosts this month. Tomorrow we welcome a new host.
Ah. I get it, now, Elizabeth. (The question of your hosting.) I really like your collages and how you put them together.
ReplyDeleteAs for poetry, if you like lovely song lyrics (as I do, and some of them really are pure poetry: Dusty Springfield "The Windmills of Your Mind," for one) I think you would like some of the older, lyrical, more rhyming poets. Wordsworth's "Daffodils" is one I've always loved. Thanks for stopping by.
Poetry, unlike prose, is a black or white thing for me. It either reaches me, and then it's a GLORIOUS DISTILLATION, or it falls flat. It rarely translates, so I'm restricted to the two languages I am fully proficient in.
ReplyDeleteSeamus Heaney is one I get.
Someone (Rumi?) said that poetry is the language of the heart. Which made a heap of sense to me.
ReplyDeleteSounds absolutely lovely. My husband and many of my writer friends pen poetry.
ReplyDeleteMirka, what an interesting take on how poetry affects you. I'm glad you get Seamus Heaney. He is a new appreciation for me. I'm simply "swimming" metaphorically in his language.
ReplyDeleteHi, Sandra. If you are already surrounded by friends and loved ones who pen poetry, I think you will like Heaney. He is very "accessible," (the only way I can pput it.
ReplyDeleteE.C., I think I would agree with that. Fictional plots move you along sequentially, and your mind is always working out the story, but poetry does move you right from the heart. I've had moments where a poem mad me actually gasp out loud, "Ah!" I can't say that many stories have (and I do love fiction for its own reasonos)
ReplyDeleteI love that cover too.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the recommendation. I still love many of the Victorian poets, but Billy Collins and Mary Olive and Naomi Shihab Nye are modern day favorites.
ReplyDeleteHi, Vicki, and now thank YOU for your recommendations. I've only read a little of Billy Collins and Mary Oliver, and enjoyed them so much. I haven't read Naomi Shihab Nye, but I'll look for her work. Have a great day.
ReplyDeleteSandra, thanks for stopping by. Always nice to see you here.
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