My poor scapegoat,I almost love youbut would have cast, I know,the stones of silence.I am the artful voyeurof your brain's exposed and darkened combs,your muscles' webbingand all your numbered bones:I...
Poetry is a domestic art, most itself when most at home.
The way we are living,timorous or bold,will have been our life.
There is risk and truth to yourselves and the world before you.
Whether it be a matter of personal relations within a marriage or political initiatives within a peace process, there is no sure-fire do-it-yourself kit.
Sink every impulse like a bolt. Secure The bastion of sensation. Do not waver Into language. Do not waver in it.
The fact of the matter is that the most unexpected and miraculous thing in my life was the arrival in it of poetry itself - as a vocation and an elevation almost.
Manifesting that order of poetry where we can at last grow up to that which we stored up as we grew.
We were small and thought we knew nothing Worth knowing. We thought words travelled the wires In the shiny pouches of raindrops, Each one seeded full with the light Of the sky, the gleam of the lines,...
In Northern Ireland, helicopters are not usually used to promote poetry.
The way we are living,
Now it’s high watermark and floodtide in the heartand time to go.The sea-nymphs in the spraywill be the chorus now.What’s left to say?Suspect too much sweet-talkbut never close your mind.It was a fort...
He sits, strong and blunt as a Celtic cross, Clearly used to silence and an armchair:
But that citizen's perception was also at one with the truth in recognizing that the very brutality of the means by which the IRA were pursuing change was destructive of the trust upon which new possi...
A public expectation, it has to be said, not of poetry as such but of political positions variously approvable by mutually disapproving groups.
Poetry is always slightly mysterious, and you wonder what is your relationship to it.
Believe that a further shore is reachable from here.
People so staunch and true, they're fixated,Shining with self-regard like polished stones.And their whole life spent admiring themselves For their own long-suffering.Licking their woundsAnd flashing t...
I can't think of a case where poems changed the world, but what they do is they change people's understanding of what's going on in the world.
Strange, it is a huge nothing that we fear.