The next several poems I’ll be including in this month’s series are connected to my tattoos.

Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney (1966)

Opinion: blackberries are the most poetic fruit. It seems to me that every major poet has written about blackberries. And why not? They are delicious and aggressive and bejeweled.

I decided on blackberries for my chest tattoo for several reasons, mostly because of their literary omnipresence, and this poem specifically. To me, beyond the meaning I glean from their appearance in individual poems, blackberries represent a commonality in the human spirit. I have childhood memories of blackberry picking on my grandparents’ property with the best siblings and cousins ever bestowed upon a human, and in Tiff’s and my book, blackberries (or their ilk) occur as a significant motif. So they belong, in all their brambled glory, right above my heart.

While off the top of my head I can think of at least four blackberry poems, Seamus Heaney’s is My Monster Blackberry Poem. It was also the one that was the most reflective of my headspace at the time I got my tattoo done. So whenever anyone asks about my chest piece, it’s this poem I direct them to, although the real answer is much longer.

Short Stuff:

• Seamus Heaney was an Irish poet, and in 1995 when we were all wearing those elastic chokers, he was winning the Nobel Prize in Literature.
• His final words were a text message to his wife: Noli timere (Do not be afraid)
• Super great hair

Topics:

We’re all gonna die; fungus; get used to disappointment (you can’t get used to it, though)

Excerpt:

You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
Like thickened wine: summer’s blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
Picking.

Click here to read Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

Hey! If you’d like to discuss any of the poems in this series with me, please reach out. I’d love to host an online poetry meeting.