Poetry Thomas Kinsella

POETRY THOMAS KINSELLA

Ⓒ Cian Hogan English Notes 2011 Thomas Kinsella ranks among the most distinguished of modern Irish poets. While he may not be as well known outside literary circles as some of his contemporaries, his work over the past 50 years has enriched the poetic landscape. Born in Dublin in 1928, he attended University College Dublin and entered the Irish civil service but quickly abandoned his job in the Department of Finance in order to pursue a career as a poet. Although he has lived on and off in the United States for over 50 years, “ his work is for the most part rooted in the people and places of his native Dublin. Yet despite the essentially local nature of his poetry, Kinsella is now perceived as being at the vanguard of modern literature. The poems on the course by Thomas Kinsella are entirely representative of his work as a whole in that they combine intense explorations of self with social commentary and satire. His poetry dramatises these explorations through the use of myth, historical narrative and elegy. Many of the poems by Kinsella contained in this anthology examine the origins of the creative process. Although Kinsella can be perplexing at times, close attention to his poetry compensates the reader for any difficulty encountered. The poems on the course by Kinsella illuminate the depth of the poet’s insight and the scope of his artistic vision. In the words of the poet himself, they ask us to share in his search for meaning and to follow him ‘back to the dark | and the depth that I came from’.

The day dawns with scent of must and rain, Of opened soil, dark trees, dry bedroom air. Under the fading lamp, half dressed – my brain Idling on some compulsive fantasy – I towel my shaven jaw and stop, and stare, 5 Riveted by a dark exhausted eye, A dry downturning mouth. ✶ It seems again that it is time to learn, In this untiring, crumbling place of growth To which, for the time being, I return. 10 Now plainly in the mirror of my soul I read that I have looked my last on youth And little more; for they are not made whole That reach the age of Christ.

✶

Below my window the awakening trees, 15 Hacked clean for better bearing, stand defaced Suffering their brute necessities, And how should the ﬂesh not quail that span for span Is mutilated more? In slow distaste I fold my towel with what grace can, 20 Not young and not renewable, but man.

glossary

1 must – the condition of being musty or 16 Hacked clean for better bearing – it is mouldy. The word adds to the overall important to understand this paradox. In order atmosphere of staleness that dominates the for the trees to bear fruit, they must be pruned, first stanza. or hacked. 4 compulsive – exerting a powerful or 18 17 brute – cruel or savage. unstoppable attraction. 18 quail – to tremble with fear. 14 the age of Christ – Christ is thought to 20 grace – dignity. have been 33 years old when he died.

This short poem, which was included for study on the former Leaving Certiﬁcate English syllabus, is familiar to generations of Irish schoolgoers. The poem, which ﬁrst appeared in the 1963 collection Downstream, is in many ways typical of Kinsella’s poetry in general. ‘Mirror in February’ opens with a highly memorable, if depressing, depiction of the dank and dreary February weather:

The day dawns with scent of must and rain, Of opened soil, dark trees, dry bedroom air.

The speaker has just woken and his mind, not yet fully alert, is ‘Idling on some compulsive fantasy’. The scene is an entirely familiar one. However, as he towels his ‘shaven jaw and stop[s], and stare[s]’, the poet experiences a moment of epiphany that rivets him to the spot. The source of this startling moment of revelation is his appearance. His ‘dark exhausted eye’ and ‘dry downturning mouth’ force upon him an acknowledgement of his own mortality. This in turn leads to the admission at the beginning of the second stanza that it is ‘again [...] time to learn’.

Many readers find the next line, where Kinsella speaks of this ‘untiring, crumbling place of growth’, difficult to decipher. In order to understand this line, it is necessary to appreciate the full context of the poem. The awareness that Kinsella experiences is informed and directed as much by the natural world as by his own thoughts. Outside it is February and the natural world is slowly beginning to wake and renew itself. This fact is uppermost in Kinsella’s mind when he looks into the mirror. The ‘opened soil’ and ‘dark trees’ of the previous stanza are reminders of the natural cycle at work. In contrast to the renewal taking place outside his window, the poet confronts the uncomfortable reality that he is ageing. Looking ‘plainly in the mirror of [his] soul’, he understands that he has looked his last ‘on youth’. However, in the final lines of the second stanza, he acknowledges that despite having reached ‘the age of Christ’, or 33, he has not yet completed his life’s work. According to the Bible, Christ died having fulfilled the covenant between man and God, but the poet accepts that he has not yet been ‘made whole’.

In the final stanza, the link between the poet’s altered perception of his physical state and the natural cycle is made explicit:

Below my window the awakening trees, Hacked clean for better bearing, stand defaced Suffering their brute necessities,

© Cian Hogan - 4 - In order for the trees to bear more fruit, they need to be pruned, or ‘Hacked clean’. Such suffering is a necessary price to pay for the trees’ growth. The parallels between this and human existence are obvious. In order for human beings to experience growth, suffering is not only inevitable, but perhaps necessary:

And how should the flesh not quail that span for span Is mutilated more? [...]

In slow distaste at the realisation of this fact, the speaker folds his towel. It is of course significant that he does not throw in the towel, choosing instead to put it aside with ‘what grace [he] can’.

The final couplet of the poem is both an acknowledgement of the fragility of the human condition and a triumphant testimony to the power of the human spirit to endure:

I fold my towel with what grace I can, Not young and not renewable, but man.

2. stylistic features

This deeply thought-provoking poem opens in a manner that recalls a moment from Irish literature. In the famous opening sequence of James Joyce’s novel Ulysses, Stephen Dedalus stares into the mirror as he shaves. Here in this poem, the bedroom, which is normally associated with rest and comfort, becomes the location for an extraordinary event. In the course of this poem, the speaker experiences an unsettling epiphany that alters his understanding of his place in the world. The mirror into which the poet stares – ‘the mirror of [his] soul’ – is an appropriate metaphor for the exploration of self that he undertakes. In many of Kinsella’s poems, a male figure is forced to reassess his self-image while staring at the actual image. Kinsella is a fluent Irish speaker and the critic Brian John has asserted that it ‘is hardly coincidental, that the Irish for mirror (scáthán) and for shadow (scáth) are commonly derived’. In other words, in this poem the poet examines his reflection and is confronted by a shadow image of himself. Mirrors reflect and this mirror provokes a moment of intense reflection. Looking in the mirror, he not only sees his ‘dark exhausted eye, | A dry downturning mouth’, but his own soul:

Now plainly in the mirror of my soul I read that I have looked my last on youth And little more; for they are not made whole That reach the age of Christ.

© Cian Hogan - 5 - In other respects, this poem is typical of Kinsella’s poetry in general. Many of Kinsella’s poems take place at dawn, centre on the importance of self-awareness and self-revelation and examine man’s place in terms of the broader natural cycle. Another interesting aspect of the poem is that for the greater part of ‘Mirror in February’, Kinsella employs rhyme in such a way as to reinforce the mirror metaphor. The uneven rhyme in the final lines of the first two stanzas is resolved in the final two lines of the third stanza, where ‘can’ rhymes with ‘man’.

‘Mirror in February’ opens in a dramatic way that manages to capture both the physical reality of his surroundings (the ‘dry bedroom air’) and his mood. Dawn is often associated with hope, yet any sense of hope in this poem is obscured by the dark and gloomy atmosphere. St Brigid’s Day, the first of February, has traditionally marked the beginning of spring in Ireland, but any sense of renewal that one would normally associate with spring is lessened by the sense of existential malaise that dominates the poem. Outside his bedroom, there are reminders both of growth and the inevitability of decay. While the ‘opened soil’ may hint at the process of planting and renewal, it may also point to the ineluctability of death or the certainty of the grave. Furthermore, the long vowels coupled with the repetition of the consonant d sounds create a heavy, plodding and oppressive effect.

Yet despite all this, the predominant mood in the opening stanza remains one of startled awareness. The short verb ‘Riveted’ captures the sudden jolt that the speaker experiences once he is confronted by the image of his own mortality. Yet the triumph of this poem lies in Kinsella’s ability to overcome his own feelings of distaste concerning his ageing. By the poem’s end, the speaker accepts the fact that he is no longer a young man and that change is unavoidable. This confers a certain dignity not only on him, but on the human condition. The image of the poet folding and not throwing in the towel is a simple yet profoundly thought-provoking one.

Earlier in the poem, the poet refers to having reached ‘the age of Christ’ and not being whole. It is possible to interpret the poet’s failure to dwell more deeply on Christian spirituality as a rejection of traditional religion in favour of more humanist or secular solutions to the dilemmas posed by life and death. At the end of the poem, the poet relies on his humanity, not some higher power, to provide him with the strength necessary to carry on.

Finally, the poem centres on a number of obvious contrasts. Throughout the poem there are implied contrasts between light and darkness, winter and spring, life and death, reflection and reality, sleeping and waking, renewal and decay and youth and ageing. These contrasts create tension and force the reader to think more deeply about the poem’s themes.

If you are going to include ‘Mirror in February’ in an essay, you may want to mention some of the following points.

a. Nature and the natural cycle play a significant role in many of the poems by Kinsella on the course. Here in this poem, nature forms the backdrop to his consideration of the human condition.

b. The poem’s rhyming scheme reinforces the central metaphor of the mirror.

c. ‘Mirror in February’ is constructed around a series of powerful and thought- provoking contrasts.

Chrysalides

Our last free summer we mooned about at odd hours Pedalling slowly through country towns, stopping to eat Chocolate and fruit, tracing our vagaries on the map.

At night we watched in the barn, to the lurch of melodeon music, The crunching boots of countrymen – huge and weightless 5 As their shadows – twirling and leaping over the yellow concrete.

Sleeping too little or too much, we awoke at noon And were received with womanly mockery into the kitchen, Like calves poking our faces in with enormous hunger.

Daily we strapped our saddlebags and went to experience 10 A tolerance we shall never know again, confusing For the last time, for example, the licit and the familiar.

To the unique succession of our youthful midnights, When by a window ablaze softly with the virgin moon Dry scones and jugs of milk awaited us in the dark,

Or to lasting horror: a wedding flight of ants Spawning to its death, a mute perspiration 20 Glistening like drops of copper, agonised, in our path.

glossary

The title, ‘Chrysalides’, refers to the 14 Sapped – drained. gold-coloured pupa of a butterfly. 17 virgin moon – new moon. 20 Spawning – germinating or giving 1 mooned – wandered aimlessly. rise to. 20 mute – silent. 3 vagaries – an unpredictable or 21 Glistening – shining brightly. erratic change, action or idea. 4 melodeon – a small reed organ that uses bellows to draw air through its reeds.

Critical Commentary: Chrysalides

This short narrative poem centres on the poet’s recollections of a bicycling holiday during what he describes as his ‘last free summer’. In the opening stanza of the poem, the speaker describes how he and his companion pedalled slowly throug‘country towns, stopping to eat | Chocolate and fruit’. In the second stanza, the poet describes how later, at night, they watched the ‘crunching boots of countrymen’ to the backdrop of ‘melodeon music’. In the speaker’s imagination, these men appeared ‘huge and weightless’ as they twirled and leapt over the ‘yellow concrete’.

The poet’s carefree depiction of this holiday continues in the third stanza, where he describes how they ‘awoke at noon’ and were mocked by their friends when they poked their faces into the kitchen. There is a slight change in tone in the fourth stanza, when the poet singles out the ephemeral or fleeting nature of this happiness, describing the carefree joy as a happiness and a ‘tolerance’ that they would ‘never know again’. According to the poet, during this period of their life, both he and his partner confused the ‘licit’, or what was lawful, with ‘the familiar’. As the couple grew closer, the speaker claims that their ‘instincts blurred’ and that ‘a strange wakefulness | Sapped [their] energies’. During these intensely passionate moments, the couple was brought into the ‘extremes of feeling’. In the penultimate stanza, the imagery of high romance dominates the poet’s recollection of those ‘youthful midnights’ When by a window ablaze softly with the virgin moon Dry scones and jugs of milk awaited us in the dark,

There is a sharp change in the poem’s tone in the final stanza. As with so many of Kinsella’s poems, his memories of the past are clouded by a realisation of mortality. Here in the final stanza, the beautiful images of romance that have dominated the previous six stanzas are replaced by a sense of ‘lasting horror’. On the face of it this sense of horror is provoked by a mass death of a ‘flight of ants’, which die in such numbers that they glisten ‘like drops of copper’ in the path of the young lovers.

This poem first appeared in Kinsella’s 1962 collection, Downstream. As with so many of the other poems in this collection, ‘Chrysalides’ consists of a short narrative that is interspersed with moments of intense meditation. The title of the poem is pivotal to our understanding of its central message. A chrysalis is the stage between the larva and the adult in an insect. More than anything else, this poem is about change, growth and the inevitability of death. While the poem centres on the speaker’s memories of a summer of innocent joy and passionate discovery, it is the speaker’s awareness of how much he has changed since that summer that really interests him. The idyllic scene that Kinsella presents to us forms little more than the backdrop to his shuddering realisation later on in life that death is the ineluctable lot of all living things.

If one looks closely, it is possible to see that Kinsella qualifies his recollection of that carefree summer. In the opening line, we are told that this was to be the ‘last free summer’, which suggests the inevitable changes that are about to occur in the speaker’s life. As a younger man he was ‘insensitive’ to both the extraordinary gift of that ‘unique succession of our youthful midnights’ and to the significance that lay beyond his discovery of the dying ants. The use of the adjective ‘unique’ is suggestive of the precious nature of time that this couple spent together. However, it is important to bear in mind that it is the mature speaker who qualifies the experience. At the time, the young couple was blissfully unaware of the significance of their time together. This lack of sensitivity or awareness is also reflected in the manner in which they fail to see any real significance in the death of so many flying ants. The mature narrator, however, has the capacity to see these ants as acting as a metaphor for the inevitability of death and decay:

Or to lasting horror: a wedding flight of ants Spawning to its death, a mute perspiration Glistening like drops of copper, agonised, in our path.

This sense of the inevitability of transformation and, of course, decay is what lends the poem its title. This is an interesting and thought-provoking poem that, like so many of the other poems in Downstream, forces the reader to acknowledge the fragility of life and the ephemeral nature of all human experience.

3. Essay Writing

If you are thinking of referring to ‘Chrysalides’ in any essay on Kinsella’s poetry that you may be asked to write, try to bear the following points in mind.

a. The title of the poem is central to our understanding of Kinsella’s thematic intent

© Cian Hogan - 10 - a. In another poem, ‘Downstream’, which is not on the Leaving Certificate syllabus, Kinsella speaks of his ‘lasting horror’ of mortality. At the heart of this poem is an attempt by the adult narrator to come to terms with his first intimation of mortality.

b. There is a duality to this poem. The beauty and youthful passion that dominate most of the poem are replaced by the darker imagery in the final stanza.

I drank firmly and set the glass down between us firmly. You were saying.

My father Was saying. 5

His finger prodded and prodded, marring his point. Emphas- emphasemphasis. I have watched his father’s hands before him 10

cupped, and tightening the black Plug between knife and thumb, carving off little curlicues to rub them in the dark of his palms,

or cutting into new leather at his bench, 15 levering a groove open with his thumb, insinuating wet sprigs for the hammer.

He kept the sprigs in mouthfuls and brought them out in silvery units between his lips. 20

I took a pinch out of their hole and knocked them one by one into the wood, bright points among hundreds gone black, other children’s – cousins and others, grown up.

Or his bow hand scarcely moving, 25 scraping in the dark corner near the fire, his plump fingers shifting on the strings.

To his deaf, inclined head he hugged the fiddle’s body whispering with the tune 30

with breaking heart whene’er I hear in privacy, across a blocked void,

on my breast in blood she died ... But blood for blood without remorse I’ve ta’en ... Beyond that. 40

Your family, Thomas, met with and helped many of the Croppies in hiding from the Yeos or on their way home after the defeat in south Wexford. They sheltered the Laceys who were later hanged on the Bridge in Ballinglen 45 between Tinahely and Anacorra.

From hearsay, as far as I can tell the Men Folk were either Stone Cutters or masons or probably both. In the 18 50

and late 1700s even the farmers had some other trade to make a living.

They lived in Farnese among a Colony of North of Ireland or Scotch settlers left there

in some of the dispersions or migrations 55

Beyond that.

Littered uplands. Dense grass. Rocks everywhere, 60 wet underneath, retaining memory of the long cold. First, a prow of land chosen, and wedged with tracks; then boulders chosen and sloped together, stabilized in menace. 65

I do not like this place. I do not think the people who lived here were ever happy. It feels evil. Terrible things happened. I feel afraid here when I am on my own. 70

Dispersals or migrations. Through what evolutions or accidents toward that peace and patience by the fireside, that blocked gentleness ...

That serene pause, with the slashing knife, 75 in kindly mockery, as I busy myself with my little nails at the rude block, his bench.

The blood advancing – gorging vessel after vessel – 80 and altering in them one by one.

Extraordinary ... The big block – I found it years afterward in a corner of the yard in sunlight after rain and stood it up, wet and black: it turned under my hands, an axis of light flashing down its length, and the wood’s soft flesh broke open, countless little nails squirming and dropping out of it.

glossary

11 Plug – plug tobacco. A hard form of 42 Croppies – the derogatory nickname tobacco that is cut or shaved so as to be given to the Irish rebels who took part in smoked by pipe. the 1798 rebellion. 13 curlicues – an ornamental twist that is 42 Yeos – members of the military. often used in calligraphy or design. 49 masons – someone who works with 17 insinuating – hinting at or implying stone. something. 62 prow – the front part.

1. Content

In this long poem, Kinsella evokes family traditions. The poem centres on the poet’s recollection of his father’s hyperbolic narration of the Kinsella family lineage. Taking the form of a conversation between the poet and his father, the poem opens with the narrator telling us that he ‘drank firmly | and set the glass down [...] firmly’. The poet stresses his father’s hyperbole when he says that:

His finger prodded and prodded, marring his point. Emphas- emphasemphasis.

At this point in the poem, the poet is reminded of the family similarities that exist between the generations. The manner in which the speaker’s grandfather used to cup and tighten ‘the black Plug’ of tobacco ‘between knife and thumb’ is recalled by the sight of his father’s hands.

In the course of the next three stanzas, the narrator provides us with instances of his grandfather’s skill as an artisan. Kinsella’s grandfather, who originally worked for Guinness, became a cobbler in his retirement. It is the poet’s memories of this period in his grandfather’s life that dominate this section of the poem:

carving off little curlicues to rub them in the dark of his palms,

or cutting into new leather at his bench, levering a groove open with his thumb, insinuating wet sprigs for the hammer. He kept the sprigs in mouthfuls and brought them out in silvery units between his lips. These vivid recollections of his grandfather’s skill as an artisan cause the poet to recognise the connections that exist between the generations of the wider Kinsella family.

In the ninth stanza, the poet recalls his grandfather’s skill as a musician. Such was his ability as a fiddle player that it seemed as if ‘his bow hand [was] scarcely moving’. The poet then tells us that whenever he hears folk songs such as ‘The Wind That Shakes the Barley’, his memories of his grandfather are so strong that they manage to bridge the ‘void’ of time and even death.

A distinct shift in the poem occurs in the thirteenth stanza. The poet’s memory of the lyrics of ‘The Wind That Shakes the Barley’ causes him to delve further back into his family history. This famous ballad, penned by Robert Dwyer Joyce, is written from the perspective of a doomed young Wexford rebel. In the song, this young man’s involvement with the 1798

© Cian Hogan - 16 - Rebellion causes him to turn his back on his relationship with a young woman. As the poet moves beyond his grandfather’s generation, he is brought back through the years to a time when members of his family ‘met with and helped | many of the Croppies in hiding from the Yeos’. The Croppies were so called because many of the rebels wore their hair in a closely cropped fashion. This hairstyle was an act of defiance, as it was seen by the authorities as sympathising with the anti-wig and consequently anti-aristocrat French revolutionaries. According to the narrator in this poem, his family ancestors sheltered such Croppies as ‘the Laceys’, who were ‘later hanged on the Bridge in Ballinglen | between Tinahely and Anacorra’.

In the course of the next two stanzas, the poet continues his potted history of his family ancestors. We learn that they worked as ‘Stone Cutters | or masons’ and then in the ‘18 | and late 1700s’ they became farmers. Tracing his family history even further back, the poet suggests that his ancestors originally lived in ‘Farnese among a Colony | of North of Ireland or Scotch settlers’.

In the third section of the poem, a shift occurs in the temporal perspective of the narrator. As in the previous section, this movement further back in time is signalled by the words ‘Beyond that’. As the poet moves further back in time, we are brought to a primeval, even hellish landscape. This is a threatening place:

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Littered uplands. Dense grass. Rocks everywhere, wet underneath, retaining memory of the long cold.

First, a prow of land chosen, and webbed with tracks; then boulders chosen and sloped together, stabilized in menace.

The speaker tells us that he is frightened by this place and instinctively feels that ‘Terrible things happened’ here.

In the fourth and penultimate movement of the poem, the poet contemplates the interconnections that have been created by the various ‘Dispersals or migrations’. He cites the evolutions or accidents that eventually resulted in his grandfather playing the fiddle ‘by the fireside’. In the next stanza of the fourth section of the poem, as the speaker works on the very bench his grandfather used, he recalls the old man at work as a cobbler:

That serene pause, with the slashing knife, in kindly mockery,

© Cian Hogan - 17 - In the final two stanzas of this section of the poem, the speaker meditates on the links that exist from generation to generation. The blood that advances from family member to family member carries with it similarities that are modulated or changed slightly in the succeeding generations.

In the final stanza, the speaker focuses his attention on his grandfather’s ‘block’. The sight of this ‘Extraordinary’ ‘big block’ has given rise to the intense meditation on the poet’s family history. This wooden instrument is transformed in the speaker’s imagination into an organic living thing:

it turned under my hands, an axis of light flashing down its length, and the wood’s soft flesh broke open, countless little nails

squirming and dropping out of it.

2. Stylistic Features

______

In his personal account of his own family history, Kinsella included the following preface to ‘His Father’s Hands’:

It was later in life, when I was on equal terms with my father, that something else important out of that early time became clear: the dignity and quiet of his own father, remembered as we talked about him. With an awareness of the generations as they succeed each other. That process, with the accompanying awareness, recorded and understood, are a vital element in life as I see it now.

This complex poem draws heavily on the poet’s uncle Jack Brophy’s handwritten history of the Kinsella family. According to Brophy, the menfolk in the family were either:

Stone Cutters or Masons or probably both. in the 17 and late 1800s even the Farmers had some other trade to make a living. The Kinsellas lived in Farnese (it’s now White Rock) among a colony of North of Ireland or Scotch settlers left there in some of the dispersals, or migrations which occurred in this Area of Wicklow, Wexford and Carlow. [...] The Kinsellas met with and helped many of the Croppies in hiding from the

380 | Poems

In the course of the poem, Kinsella moves from a conversation over drinks between father and adult son through a series of vivid reminiscences of his grandfather cutting tobacco, working as a cobbler and playing traditional music, to an examination of the family history, and finally to a meditation on the nature of generational and even race memory.

The title contains the dominant metaphor running throughout this poem and indeed much of Kinsella’s poetry. The hands that the title speaks of are symbolic of the physical similarities that exist between generations. However, hands are also symbolic of the way we communicate with each other. They imply touch, trust and symbolise the skills that men such as his grandfather pass down to succeeding generations.

Perhaps the most remarkable stylistic feature of this poem is the manner in which Kinsella manages to blend history with intense meditation. Although the poem moves across the span of time, it is neither sentimental nor nostalgic. In a series of fragmentary sentences, Kinsella presents the reader with a succession of tactile images that eventually lead to a complex and thought-provoking abstraction. However, even as the poem draws to a close and reaches its most abstract point, Kinsella never loses touch with the primary tactile reality that provoked his meditation. The poem ends in a profound epiphany:

Extraordinary ... The big block – I found it years afterward in a corner of the yard in sunlight after rain and stood it up, wet and black:

squirming and dropping out of it.

According to Donatella Abate Baddin, this is a ‘luminous moment of writing in which imagination assimilates the past and sets itself up as the basis of the emergent self’. This poem first appeared in the 1979 collection One. Throughout this collection (and indeed Kinsella’s wider body of work), the motifs of the phoenix and the snake shedding its golden skin appear. These are obviously metaphors for renewal and regeneration. As the speaker listens intently to tales of his family from back in the day when they worked as ‘Stone Cutters’ or helped fleeing ‘Croppies’, he is led back beyond this point to a primeval imagining of his origins. In this sense, Kinsella’s aim in this poem is to attempt to understand the process of generation and regeneration and how it culminates in himself. The cold and threatening place that the poet imagines as being the location for the genesis of his family line gives way to the peace and ‘gentleness’ that he associates with his grandfather. In the words of Brian John, ‘despite his sense of evil, the poet has been brought to peace, patience and gentleness, which also constitute the inheritance and have moulded his self’.

His grandfather’s wooden block, which forms the centre of the final powerful and epiphanic stanza, symbolises the poet’s profound sense of himself as an individual linked but separate from the previous generations. The form and structure of these final lines, with their reliance on dactyls (stressed syllables followed by unstressed syllables), create a sense of the moment’s importance. Closely resembling embryonic cells or spermatozoa, the nails break free of the womb-like block and begin their existence separate from but always linked to the wood that housed them. In this manner, they resemble the poet’s own existence and journey towards selfhood, individuation and independence. Thus, while the poem acknowledges the powerful influences that place and shared history have on forming our identities, it ends with a compelling assertion of the very human need for individual identity.

3. Essay Writing

______

If you are thinking of making reference to ‘His Father’s Hands’ in any response to Kinsella’s poetry that you may be asked to make, try to bear the following points in mind.

a. Once again, Kinsella draws on the people and places of his native Dublin for inspiration.

c. In more than one poem, Kinsella examines his emerging sense of his own identity. As such, it may be useful to compare and contrast this poem with ‘Hen Woman’.