Patrick Kavanagh

How many poets does it take to change a light bulb?
Post Reply
Antcliff
Moderator
Moderator
Posts: 6552
Joined: Thu Nov 24, 2011 1:35 am
Location: At the end of stanza 3

Patrick Kavanagh

Post by Antcliff » Thu Feb 22, 2018 7:08 pm

Reading some Kavanagh again after listening to a programme about him on Radio 3.

https://www.poetryarchive.org/poem/epic
We fray into the future, rarely wrought
Save in the tapestries of afterthought.
Richard Wilbur

User avatar
Firebird
Moderator
Moderator
Posts: 1587
Joined: Tue May 21, 2013 9:46 pm

Re: Patrick Kavanagh

Post by Firebird » Thu Feb 22, 2018 10:24 pm

‘Epic’ is one of my favourite poems by Kavanagh. I also love ‘Innocence’ and those ‘briary arms’ and ‘whitethorn hedges’. Great images. It’s a fantastic poem.

Thanks for reminding Seth.

Cheers,

Tristan

Innocence

They laughed at one I loved-
The triangular hill that hung
Under the Big Forth. They said
That I was bounded by the whitethorn hedges
Of the little farm and did not know the world.
But I knew that love's doorway to life
Is the same doorway everywhere.
Ashamed of what I loved
I flung her from me and called her a ditch
Although she was smiling at me with violets.

But now I am back in her briary arms
The dew of an Indian Summer lies
On bleached potato-stalks
What age am I?

I do not know what age I am,
I am no mortal age;
I know nothing of women,
Nothing of cities,
I cannot die
Unless I walk outside these whitethorn hedges.

by Patrick Kavanagh

Antcliff
Moderator
Moderator
Posts: 6552
Joined: Thu Nov 24, 2011 1:35 am
Location: At the end of stanza 3

Re: Patrick Kavanagh

Post by Antcliff » Sat Feb 24, 2018 1:14 pm

Thanks, Tristan. I like "Innocence" as well. I like the role of the whitehorns.

The broadcast on Kavanagh is here if anyone is interested. There are a few engaging bits, although it does rather follow the rural-upbringing/goes-to-Dublin/bit-of-a-grumpy-bastard/mellows-in-old-age pattern...http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b09rwmby
We fray into the future, rarely wrought
Save in the tapestries of afterthought.
Richard Wilbur

Post Reply