Originally posted by ferneyhoughgeliebte
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Seamus Heaney (1939-2013)
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Originally posted by Padraig View PostI have over-contributed to this thread. I'll stop now.
Now you're making me feel like the person who drags the Sean Nos singer back onto the floor..
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Originally posted by Padraig View Post
On an overgrown airfield in late summer.
Seamus Heaney Human Chain 2010
Album
IV
Were I to have embraced him anywhere
It would have been on the riverbank
That summer before college, him in his prime,
Me at the time not thinking how he must
Keep coming with me because I’d soon be leaving.
That should have been the first, but it didn’t happen.
The second did, at New Ferry one night
When he was very drunk and needed help
To do up the trouser buttons. And the third
Was on the landing during his last week,
Helping him to the bathroom, my right arm
Taking the webby weight of his underarm.
Seamus Heaney from 'Human Chains'
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I did not write, in the previous post, what I was thinking at the time - I had meant to muse on the song itself as a cultural artifact as well known to Heaney as the more familiar bogs. Thus his reference to the song would not be of the same order as, say, a rousing rendition in the pub on a Friday night 'somewhere in Ulster'. That is also the reason I attribute to Tommy Makem my opinion that he treats the song respectfully.
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Originally posted by Padraig View Post- I had meant to muse on the song itself as a cultural artifact as well known to Heaney as the more familiar bogs.
At Toomebridge
Where the flat water
Came pouring over the weir out of Lough Neagh
As if it had reached an edge of the flat earth
And fallen shining to the continuous
Present of the Bann.
Where the checkpoint used to be.
Where the rebel boy was hanged in'98.
Where negative ions in the open air
Are poetry to me. As once before
The slime and silver of the fattened eel.
Electric Light 2001
I forgot I had stopped.Last edited by Padraig; 10-06-17, 19:35.
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I've been working my way slowly once more through Neil McGregor's 'History of the World in 100 Objects'. Got to the helmet found at Sutton Hoo in Suffolk and had forgotten Heaney's contribution, his link to Beowulf, and his tale of a Boston fireman's helmet. Wonderful stuff.
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Originally posted by Padraig View PostWas in Bellaghy at the weekend, John, and visited the grave.
Later enjoyed a song 'recital' by Len Graham in the Heaney Centre.
Your mention of Len Graham prompted me to find him singing The Parting Glass and Over the Hills and Far Away
Len Graham sings the Parting Glass, which he sang regularly with Joe Holmes from Killyrammer, County Antrim; Joe learned it from Willie Clarke of nearby Lisb...
Singer Len Graham performs "Over the Hills and Far Away", a macaronic song which shares its chorus, and air, with "Mo Ghile Mear". Graham has just published...
Fine voice. Fine songs.
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Originally posted by Globaltruth View PostIt's still an intention to go Padraig - just a bit of a stretch from our normal West Coast haunts.
I went there yesterday for the last time this year. It was the first anniversary of the opening of the Heaney Centre in Bellaghy.
In the afternoon we had a very personal lecture, and emotional even, from Peter Fallon, a poet, and close friend of Seamus Heaney.
In the evening we had Bach Cello Suites 4,5 and 6, interspersed with Heaney poems - the conclusion of a recital begun a year ago.
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The Heaney Family have just compiled an anthology of 100 Poems which has recently been released.
Includes this Haiku:
“1.1.87”
“Dangerous pavements.
But I face the ice this year
With my father’s stick.”
Article from Saturday's Guardian about it and the forthcoming exhibition of the National Library of Ireland's Heaney archive in the 18th-century Bank of Ireland building in Dublin.
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Originally posted by johncorrigan View Post
1.1.87
Dangerous pavements.
But I face the ice this year
With my father’s stick.
Book ordered, of course.
The Home Place in Bellaghy will have guest readings from 100 Poems on Friday, 9 November, and I plan to be there.
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It's strange but wonderful that though you've read the poems before, a new collection breathes new life into them, or in some cases revives the reader. From Heaney's fifth book of poems there was a Song which was selected for 100 Poems. I have to confess that it came to me as a new discovery! So maybe, in my case, it's not so strange after all - but even more wonderful.
Song
A rowan like a lipsticked girl.
Between the bye-road and the main road
Alder trees at a wet and dripping distance
Stand off among the rushes.
There are the mud-flowers of dialect
And the immortelles of perfect pitch
And that moment when the bird sings very close
To the music of what happens.
Seamus Heaney
from Field Work, 1979
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