1. Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

    Late August, given heavy rain and sun
    For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
    At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
    Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
    You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
    Like thickened wine: summer’s blood was in it
    Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
    So sorry Seamus that the Lord has now picked you……. will miss your wonderful mind…..Rest in Peace.
    Gerry O’Malley, County Clare, Ireland.

  2. I cried when I read this. I didn’t know Seamus Heaney had died. His poetry was so earthy, so in touch with the sod, so peaty, and so boggy. I loved it.


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