. . . never having heard the voice of the Dodo bird . . .
. . . never having smelled the Japanese cherry trees . . .
. . . never having punished the lovers and friends that
Seamus Heaney's latest collection opens with an admission which reminds us all of our cognitive fragility :
Had I not been awake I would have missed it,
A long time agao, indeed so long ago, it feels like once upon a time, I read Virginia Woolf's The Waves and even though I felt it slipped away from me, and perhaps I missed whatever 'it' was trying t
But one day we woke to our disgrace; our house
a coldness of rooms, each nursing
a thickening cyst of dust and gloom.
We had not been home in our hearts for months.
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
Before I read Carol Ann Duffy's sonnet about Anne Hathaway I had always just associated the name with a famous cottage somewhere in Stratford!
Waking, with a dream of first love forming real words,
as close to my lips as lipstick, I speak your name,
after a silence of years, into the pillow, and the power
Carol Ann Duffy's first poem as Poet Laureate published in The Guardian is a fiery, spirited denouncement of the obfuscation and duplicity of those who identify themselves as our representatives in p
If ever there was a delicious thriller tucked away in the GCSE reading list it is this poem!
I remember reading this for the first time at Liverpool University in my final undergraduate year when I was lucky enough to be taught by Vince Newey.
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