Inspired Writing · Original Posts · Poetry


This poem is the second in a series of poems I wrote in response to the poetry of Seamus Heaney, which we studied in my English class recently. (Read the first poem here). This poem is based on Heaney’s poem “Oysters”, though I think it also has a lot in common with “The Underground”. 


The chase is endless

But my feet are not winged:

They weep with broken promises

Of stops along the way.

In this race, you cannot

Seek guidance at highway speeds.


I work

Driven, purposeless.

Should there be more,

is there more?

How could there be anything more


Than that pursuit

Which I love and I hate;

Breath burns, but I swallow

Gladly. I would not give it up

Though I gasp.


I think I have always been gasping.

Lungfuls of air were the Beginning, so like

The End. Now, there, is it in sight?

Not immortality, cash, fame: that


Peace and Purpose might catch me

In the race of this cold night.


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