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/lit/ - Literature


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15761643 No.15761643 [Reply] [Original]

Daily reminder that Seamus Heaney is the most based poet of all time.

I was six when I first saw kittens drown.
Dan Taggart pitched them, 'the scraggy wee shits',
Into a bucket; a frail metal sound,

Soft paws scraping like mad. But their tiny din
Was soon soused. They were slung on the snout
Of the pump and the water pumped in.

'Sure, isn't it better for them now?' Dan said.
Like wet gloves they bobbed and shone till he sluiced
Them out on the dunghill, glossy and dead.

Suddenly frightened, for days I sadly hung
Round the yard, watching the three sogged remains
Turn mealy and crisp as old summer dung

Until I forgot them. But the fear came back
When Dan trapped big rats, snared rabbits, shot crows
Or, with a sickening tug, pulled old hens' necks.

Still, living displaces false sentiments
And now, when shrill pups are prodded to drown
I just shrug, 'Bloody pups'. It makes sense:

'Prevention of cruelty' talk cuts ice in town
Where they consider death unnatural
But on well-run farms pests have to be kept down.

>> No.15761651

Spiritless drunkard desensitizes himself to suffering, shocking

>> No.15761701

>>15761643
Edgy

>> No.15762849

>>15761651
>spiritless
the poem is quite thoughtful
>desensitizes himself to suffering
the lyric self is very sensitive and suffering but rationalises the cruelty as a necessity
>>15761643
great thread, OP. finally something worthy of discussion.

>> No.15762895
File: 195 KB, 640x713, 94D0CF63-1011-4629-AF51-51EA03F031AE.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
15762895

>>15761643
hi anons what does this poem mean in relation to the history of b and v and what is its structure? if you dont wanna answer could you at least link me to a youtube channel or resource that teaches poem analysis IN A LAYMANs way

>> No.15763148

>>15762849
fair enough

>> No.15763172

>>15761643
He's a good poet and I love that his poems tell stories. He can be a bit heavy-handed with morality and sentimental with feelings though.

Fishermen at Ballyshannon
Netted an infant last night
Along with the salmon.
An illegitimate spawning,

A small one thrown back
To the waters. But I'm sure
As she stood in the shallows
Ducking him tenderly

Till the frozen knobs of her wrists
Were dead as the gravel,
He was a minnow with hooks
Tearing her open.

She waded in under
The sign of the cross.
He was hauled in with the fish.
Now limbo will be

A cold glitter of souls
Through some far briny zone.
Even Christ's palms, unhealed,
Smart and cannot fish there.

>> No.15763887

So!