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Overall Rating:4.33 based on 6 ratings
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Seamus Heaney (1939) is an Irish poet and lecturer. Heaney’s poems are often set in the rural Ireland of his birth, and are often imbued with a sense of history as well as the personal, often including elegies for members of his own family. Heaney’s poetry is often influenced by the violence of his turbulent landscape. Heaney’s major works include Death of a Naturalist and Sweeney’s Flight. Heaney won the Noble Prize in 1996. (Add picture)

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Reviews for Seamus Heaney  1-3 OF 3

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oscargamblesfro (81)
Heaney's solid. I particularly liked his translation of "Beowulf."

  (5 voted this helpful, 0 funny and 0 agree)
GenghisTheHun (177)
Here is a poet of roughly the same age as I and whose poetry I enjoy. He was born in the North of Ireland in County Derry (Londonderry). His mother was a McCann, and that name is old line Ulster Protestant stock so he has both Nationalist and Unionist blood in his veins. His works include some about the troubles that began again in the North of Ireland in 1969. One of my favorites is about an old drunk who gets blown up in the aftermath of Bloody Sunday when British Paratroopers killed thirteen people in the Bogside section of Derry (Londonderry) City. The first stanza of Casulty is: He would drink by himself And raise a weathered thumb Towards the high shelf, Calling another rum And blackcurrant, without Having to raise his voice, Or order a quick stout By a lifting of the eyes And a discreet dumb-show Of pulling off the top; At closing time would go In waders and peaked cap Into the showery dark, A dole-kept breadwinner But a natural for work. I loved his whole manner, Sure-footed but too sly, His deadpan sidling tact, His fisherman's quick eye And turned observant back. Incomprehensible To him, my other life. Sometimes on the high stool, Too busy with his knife At a tobacco plug And not meeting my eye, In the pause after a slug He mentioned poetry. We would be on our own And, always politic And shy of condescension, I would manage by some trick To switch the talk to eels Or lore of the horse and cart Or the Provisionals. But my tentative art His turned back watches too: He was blown to bits Out drinking in a curfew Others obeyed, three nights After they shot dead The thirteen men in Derry. PARAS THIRTEEN, the walls said, BOGSIDE NIL. That Wednesday Everyone held His breath and trembled.

  (5 voted this helpful, 0 funny and 0 agree)
The Hedgehog (0)
O.K. I'm going to try and keep it short. Heaney has written so much wonderful poetry that you are bound to find something that you love. His most popular poems seem to be DIGGING and BEOWOLF but it is well worth reading one of the many SELECTED or COLECTED in order to get a wider view of his work.

  (3 voted this helpful, 0 funny and 0 agree)
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