Poetry: Iniskeen Road, July Evening by Patrick Kavanagh.

I realize it's something of a cop-out to post Leaving Cert. poetry here, but hey, poetry is poetry. We've just finished Kavanagh in school, and while I didn't really enjoy his stuff on the whole (blah blah blah ordinary blah extraordinary BLAH) I really liked this poem. It's the first poem we covered, set in Monaghan in the 1930's when Kavanagh was young. It's about being lonely, frustrated, isolated and never being able to go to the dance. Fun stuff, you can imagine.

The bicycles go by in twos and threes -
There's a dance in Billy Brennan's barn to-night,
And there's the half-talk code of mysteries
And the wink-and-elbow language of delight.
Half-past eight and there is not a spot
Upon a mile of road, no shadow thrown
That might turn out a man or woman, not
A footfall tapping secrecies of stone.
I have what every poet hates in spite
Of all the solemn talk of contemplation.
Oh, Alexander Selkirk knew the plight
Of being king and government and nation.
A road, a mile of kingdom, I am king
Of banks and stones and every blooming thing.