|
|
 |
|
|
User Rating: |
|
6.1
/10
(22
votes)
|
|
|
|
|
|
There, in the corner, staring at his drink.
The cap juts like a gantry's crossbeam,
Cowling plated forehead and sledgehead jaw.
Speech is clamped in the lips' vice.
That fist would drop a hammer on a Catholic-
Oh yes, that kind of thing could start again;
The only Roman collar he tolerates
Smiles all round his sleek pint of porter.
Mosaic imperatives bang home like rivets;
God is a foreman with certain definite views
Who orders life in shifts of work and leisure.
A factory horn will blare the Resurrection.
He sits, strong and blunt as a Celtic cross,
Clearly used to silence and an armchair:
Tonight the wife and children will be quiet
At slammed door and smoker's cough in the hall.
Submitted by Andrew Mayers
Seamus Heaney
|
|
Read poems about / on: silence, work, children, home, god, life, child, smile
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
Comments about this poem (Docker
by
Seamus Heaney
) |
|
Click here to write your
comments about this poem (Docker by
Seamus Heaney
)
 |
Johnny Muir
(6/17/2008 7:59:00 AM) |
Hi, I work for the BBC in Belfast and am working on a documentary to mark Seamus Heaney's 70th birthday. His work is studied (and written about in exams) by people all over the world and I am trying to find out what impact it has them. In this poem he writes about someone he has seen in Ireland - yet it clearly has a resonance far beyond. I would love to hear anyone's comments on what Heaney's poetry means to them. Tell me about individual poems that have made an impact on you and why!
Cheers,
johnny.muir@bbc.co.uk
|
|
|
|
|
 |
 |
 |
|
|
 |
|
People who read
Seamus Heaney
|
 |
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
