Richard Murphy and Seamus Heaney

I found myself, almost accidentally, at a poetry reading in Trinity last night. The poet was Richard Murphy, of whom, I confess, I had never heard before. He was introduced by Seamus Heaney, who, by contrast, I certainly had read before (in school, alas). Having heard about the reading (just in time), I went along, because it's not every day you get to listen to a Nobel Prize winner!

Both men were skilled raconteurs, their speech peppered with wry and distant anecdotes. Tales and legends from the literary circles of yesteryear abounded. A dreary, po-faced poetry reading this was not. Though I'd expect nothing less from two wordsmiths in their sixties! Heaney read a couple of his own poems, but the main focus of the night was Murphy. Having never heard of him before, I was very impressed. I'll have to seek out one of his collections. Here's one of his poems, Moonshine: far from his best or longest, but memorable nonetheless. Only a poet could manage these words without falling flat.

An unexpected and enjoyable evening.