Seamus Heaney

Rookie (April 13,1939 - August 30, 2013 / Castledàwson, County Londonderry)

Follower - Poem by Seamus Heaney

My father worked with a horse-plough,
His shoulders globed like a full sail strung
Between the shafts and the furrow.
The horse strained at his clicking tongue.

An expert. He would set the wing
And fit the bright steel-pointed sock.
The sod rolled over without breaking.
At the headrig, with a single pluck

Of reins, the sweating team turned round
And back into the land. His eye
Narrowed and angled at the ground,
Mapping the furrow exactly.

I stumbled in his hob-nailed wake,
Fell sometimes on the polished sod;
Sometimes he rode me on his back
Dipping and rising to his plod.

I wanted to grow up and plough,
To close one eye, stiffen my arm.
All I ever did was follow
In his broad shadow round the farm.

I was a nuisance, tripping, falling,
Yapping always. But today
It is my father who keeps stumbling
Behind me, and will not go away.

Comments about Follower by Seamus Heaney

  • (3/22/2018 4:29:00 AM)


    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • (3/22/2018 4:08:00 AM)

    I love this Poem all my babes do too (Report) Reply

  • (1/30/2018 12:33:00 PM)

    im small and im also small (Report) Reply

  • (12/19/2017 4:00:00 AM)

    it is horrific poo hole (Report) Reply

  • (12/19/2017 3:55:00 AM)

    I DOBNT L; IKE IT COS I DONT (Report) Reply

    (12/19/2017 3:58:00 AM)

    i agree its pathetic really

  • (12/12/2017 2:38:00 AM)

    i love this poem its my favs (Report) Reply

    (1/29/2018 7:22:00 AM)

    are you from cardinal

  • (11/15/2017 7:26:00 AM)

    its a good poem I would like to write a poem like that one day (Report) Reply

  • Gary San (6/15/2017 4:17:00 AM)

    moomoomoomoomoomoomoo (Report) Reply

  • P. Mason (12/12/2016 1:45:00 PM)

    One of the best....
    I don't think there is a single poem from Heaney that I did not enjoy and appreciate his use of the language, words meaning and the structure it all provided. His skill is hard to emulate. (Report) Reply

  • (9/1/2016 11:07:00 AM)

    Another excellent autobiographical poem from Heaney. His descriptions really bring the scene to life. (Report) Reply

  • (5/5/2016 7:03:00 PM)

    Growing old is not for the feint of heart, as a boy you grow up admiring the strength of the parent you love, only to come of age and watch the parent you love slip into a new role, the old man. A reminder of what life has for all of us (Report) Reply

  • (2/1/2016 11:28:00 AM)

    Hahahaha banter, this poem is crease (Report) Reply

  • Aftab Alam Khursheed (1/26/2015 1:36:00 AM)

    Lo! A brook is flowing dancing singing, rhyming (Report) Reply

    (11/20/2017 6:59:00 AM)

    yh suck my dick

  • Elena Sandu (1/26/2014 8:29:00 PM)

    First time to read this poem, carried away by the beauty and wonderful flow of this poem, I took it lightly without searching for its meanings. My heart breaks now as I realize how wrong I was. I can recognise now the huge pain brought by one of the worst sickness of our world. A bow of deepest sorrow. (Report) Reply

  • Gajanan Mishra (1/26/2013 1:28:00 AM)

    I wanted to grow up. Thanks for this line. (Report) Reply

Read all 18 comments »

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, December 28, 2011

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