I love to read Seamus Heaney. The way he makes you work to understand his poems. I always have a dictionary at hand when I read him. But after a while the difficulties become the pleasures. I love his complete lack of sentimentality and the concrete nature of the language. There is a perfection to his poems which makes me want to return to them again and again.
Here’s a poem I wrote about him a couple of months ago. RIP
On Seamus Heaney
By David Jordan
A life in the loam.
The cool dark earth of memory
From which your poetry springs
Like a satyr.
Vivid nouns and strenuous verbs
Local and concrete.
Catching the moment in one singing leap
Or ruminating like an idle shepherd,
A white garland on your head.
Hard work for you and me
But when a poem opens up
And blooms its secrets
Something happens that keeps us
Digging in the dark.