Poet b., April 13, 1939, Ireland, portrait of the poet in 1970, by Herald Tribune.
At the time years ago, it upset me just a little that I could not experience for myself in the reading what my poetry professor had said about the poet Seamus Heaney: His writing has an original style, a style not seen so often in the recent time, or even in the mid-1900s when he wrote these poems, but should, or could be, but wouldn’t need to be by everyone. She even said it is an acquired preference for his poetry (my own initial readings you’ve seen.)
It is a kind of secret style writers may not have even heard about…to inspire them, and the style is best seen on the paper. It is somewhat of a masculine style in its structure that is really good in subtle tricks of language, more like magic or puns, not deception.
The poems even when they’re telling about something not very appealing or a little bit gross are really like you just have to grab them.
I thought I would read a single poetry book collection of his after I’d sampled a few books already, and the first one he wrote I may read, but am most interested in the 5th book he wrote, Field Work (1979), which he wrote after he left a place in Ireland where there was violence and then connects with a new place, in a cottage in the countryside.
It is like a safe substance slight intoxicant that makes you feel more normal than before, while also in gentle awe of the work, and you may just pick up the book to read more…into this realism. This is just to say, I cannot wait for My Seamus Heaney 😊📖💕—Jade