Thursday, August 25, 2011


Through a chink too wide...

We have tested and tasted too much, lover-
Through a chink too wide there comes in no wonder.
But here in the Advent-darkened room
Where the dry black bread and the sugarless tea
Of penance will charm back the luxury
Of a child's soul, we'll return to Doom
The knowledge we stole but could not use.

And the newness that was in every stale thing
When we looked at it as children: the spirit-shocking
Wonder in a black slanting Ulster hill
Or the prophetic astonishment in the tedious talking
Of an old fool will awake for us and bring
You and me to the yard gate to watch the whins
And the bog-holes, cart-tracks, old stables where Time begins

Advent ~ Patrick Kavanagh


Sue said...

This is just ... oh, wonderful. Thanks for posting.

Kent said...

I can just hear you saying......Oh now that's just yummy :-)

Sue said...

It is yummy :) It tastes better each time I read it.

Also really cool - just before I read it I'd sat down and started sketching out an idea for a poem, and it was one of those synchronicity moments that always curl my toes :)

Kent said...

Sue, I had posted these thoughts on Fb after waking up this morning and the quote "Through chink too wide" came to mind. I couldn't remember the rest of the poem so I googled that part of it. And did I ever stumble upon a deeper treasure. I found this poem that it was taken from.

Patrick Kavanagh happens to be the author of two other favorite poems of mine.

Here's a taste of another one.

‘Soul,' I prayed,
I have hawked you through the world
Of Church and State and meanest trade.
But this evening halter off,
Never again will it go on.
On the south side of ditches
There is grazing of the sun.
No more haggling with the world.

As I said these words he grew
Wings upon his back. Now I may ride him
Every land my imagination knew.

Kent said...

Oh, I forgot to post the thoughts that sent me on the google search. Here they are

In the same way it seems to happen at the close of winter, as spring is arriving, and one bud has the courage to break from the ranks of the deadness and begins to open and it is when we humans have been trapped in the deadness of the winter of the soul. Through one little crack in the mind, that up to that moment has kept us caged, a light shines and something fresh and new begins to move. And just like in spring, before you realize what's happened, beauty has come to life.

Sue said...

Gee, I'm having all these chest swellings reading these words. Beautiful poem, I must read more of him, his poetry is so beautiful.

As is yours. It amazes me over and over again, I don't think I will ever take for granted how much life there is everywhere, how it grows out of dead spaces, over and over, every day. Even if someone is living dead, there are still those Cohenic cracks where the light gets in :)

Kent said...

I love it when that happens.

The other poem I was thinking about turns out to be by Phillip Larkin.

I found these guys through John O'Donohue. You can hear him read Earth's Immeasurable Surprise in this youtube audio I put together.

Kent said...

The name of the poem is actually First Sight