A Kite For Aibhín Poem by Seamus Heaney

A Kite For Aibhín

Rating: 3.3

After 'L'Aquilone' by Giovanni Pascoli (1855-1912)

Air from another life and time and place,
Pale blue heavenly air is supporting
A white wing beating high against the breeze,

And yes, it is a kite! As when one afternoon
All of us there trooped out
Among the briar hedges and stripped thorn,

I take my stand again, halt opposite
Anahorish Hill to scan the blue,
Back in that field to launch our long-tailed comet.

And now it hovers, tugs, veers, dives askew,
Lifts itself, goes with the wind until
It rises to loud cheers from us below.

Rises, and my hand is like a spindle
Unspooling, the kite a thin-stemmed flower
Climbing and carrying, carrying farther, higher

The longing in the breast and planted feet
And gazing face and heart of the kite flier
Until string breaks and—separate, elate—

The kite takes off, itself alone, a windfall.

Bill Wright 03 September 2016

I like this poem, a lovely childhood recollection, or is it?

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Fabrizio Frosini 23 May 2016

the beginning of the poem 'L'Aquilone', by Giovanni Pascoli: L'AQUILONE C'è qualcosa di nuovo oggi nel sole, anzi d'antico: io vivo altrove, e sento che sono intorno nate le viole. Son nate nella selva del convento dei cappuccini, tra le morte foglie che al ceppo delle quercie agita il vento. Si respira una dolce aria che scioglie le dure zolle, e visita le chiese di campagna, ch'erbose hanno le soglie: un'aria d'altro luogo e d'altro mese e d'altra vita: un'aria celestina che regga molte bianche ali sospese...

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Abhipsa Tripathy 10 June 2014

Wow! a very nice poem on kite, I have never experienced to fly a kite but I enjoyed it very much & I invite you to red my poems sir.

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Joe Breunig 10 December 2013

An enjoyable piece; I too have lost many a kite; RIP Seamus. -Joe Breunig, Reaching Towards His Unbounded Glory

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Patricia Grantham 05 September 2013

A nice poem in the art of flying a kite. I remember that special activity on a clear blue day and not so windy. Still the calm is disturbed by an unforeseen gust of wind that causes the kite to spiral upward and flutter down to get lodged in a tree. Unable to dislodge the kite the string is cut and the kite is rising to heights unknown. A thoughtful write.

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Seamus Heaney

Castledàwson, County Londonderry
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