The Bartlett Family Adventure

The Bartlett Family Adventure is all about the moments that take my breath away as I grow in the glory of God, and live my life to the best of my ability while raising two rowdy boys. This blog is not just about me, it also includes stories of my family's daily adventures. We home school our boys, are trying to grow our fruits and vegetables, we are all on a journey to God, we are trying to live sustainably, and most importantly love the life we lead. Sometimes we stumble, but mostly I like to think we prevail. I am blogging to keep a sort of shared journal. Our life may be messy but it is perfect.

Thursday, January 31, 2013

Poetry Thursday

Today I present you with Seamus Heaney reading his own poem Digging.

It is truly powerful. The love for his father.

Digging


By Seamus Heaney b. 1939

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.
Under my window, a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down
 
Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
Bends low, comes up twenty years away
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills
Where he was digging.
The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft
Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
To scatter new potatoes that we picked,
Loving their cool hardness in our hands.
By God, the old man could handle a spade.
Just like his old man.
My grandfather cut more turf in a day
Than any other man on Toner’s bog.
Once I carried him milk in a bottle
Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
To drink it, then fell to right away
Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
Over his shoulder, going down and down
For the good turf. Digging.
The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.
 
Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I’ll dig with it.
 
I hope your day is filled with Love and Laughter. Be well my friends.

2 comments:

  1. Oh that accent! Wonderful! Love the pride in his voice.

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    1. I really enjoyed listening to the poet read his own poems, and I really love a good accent!

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