I could write about the words or the imagery but instead I’ll tell you how it makes me feel. It feels, and there is really no more appropriate word, luminous. Like the words are so carefully selected that you can almost see these monks peering at the spectacle in their little stone cells. It’s so short, a beautiful little story told without rambling or waste. The physical sensation of reading something like this is like taking a deep breath, expanding your lungs and feeling the stretch of life in your body. I can’t explain it. It’s just how it makes me feel.
Heaney’s poems were very detailed and very special. Not massively into poetry but a lot of his are very thought provoking even know years after doing my LC! 🤣
Vivid_Ice_2755 on
Doesn’t even rhyme /s
Fickle_Definition351 on
Lovely poem. The last three lines are embroidered in a tapestry over the security entrance in Terminal 2 at Dublin Airport.
I love how the monks are witnessing something impossible, but are still present enough to jump into action and help the otherworldy apparition that’s stuck in their prayer hall
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I could write about the words or the imagery but instead I’ll tell you how it makes me feel. It feels, and there is really no more appropriate word, luminous. Like the words are so carefully selected that you can almost see these monks peering at the spectacle in their little stone cells. It’s so short, a beautiful little story told without rambling or waste. The physical sensation of reading something like this is like taking a deep breath, expanding your lungs and feeling the stretch of life in your body. I can’t explain it. It’s just how it makes me feel.
*true story*..*!*
https://preview.redd.it/m1ir8ff0kang1.jpeg?width=1158&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=b3ac32d8116e500ef74ce2788a191fd3a9b771e2
Heaney’s poems were very detailed and very special. Not massively into poetry but a lot of his are very thought provoking even know years after doing my LC! 🤣
Doesn’t even rhyme /s
Lovely poem. The last three lines are embroidered in a tapestry over the security entrance in Terminal 2 at Dublin Airport.
I love how the monks are witnessing something impossible, but are still present enough to jump into action and help the otherworldy apparition that’s stuck in their prayer hall
Nice one! I’d be remiss not to share my own:
An Irish Airman Forsees His Death (W.B. Yeats)
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above
Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love
My country is Kiltartan Cross
My countrymen, Kiltartan’s poor
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier then before
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds
I balanced all, brought all to mind
The years to come seemed waste of breath
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.