{"id":24528,"date":"2025-09-28T21:50:08","date_gmt":"2025-09-28T21:50:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/?p=24528"},"modified":"2025-09-28T21:50:08","modified_gmt":"2025-09-28T21:50:08","slug":"the-wildest-blackberry-poems-by-emily-dickinson-sylvia-plath-seamus-heaney-and-others","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/?p=24528","title":{"rendered":"The Wildest Blackberry Poems by Emily Dickinson, Sylvia Plath, Seamus Heaney and Others"},"content":{"rendered":"

\n<\/p>\n

By<\/span> A.O. Scott<\/span> <\/p>\n

A.O. Scott, a critic at large for the Book Review, recorded the poetry readings that appear in this piece.<\/p>\n

Sept. 28, 2025 <\/p>\n

Forget about apples and oranges \u2014 nothing rhymes with orange anyway. Never mind those plums that William Carlos Williams sneaked from the icebox. The most poetic fruit of all is the blackberry.<\/p>\n

Not the mushy sugar bombs packed into plastic clamshells at the supermarket. Those are insipid, bland, prosaic. I mean the ragged, spicy volunteers that grow untended at the edge of a meadow or the side of a road. The kind you go out and pick in late summer or early fall.<\/p>\n

You\u2019d be amazed at how many of those end up in poems. Poems with blackberries in the title; poems fascinated by the word blackberry<\/em>; poems that celebrate the berries\u2019 texture and flavor; poems that associate them with death or the loss of innocence. Especially among English-language poets active since the middle of the last century, there is a pronounced taste \u2014 a passion, a mania \u2014 for blackberries.<\/p>\n

What is it about the humble rubus<\/em> that inspires such ardor? We could start by asking Galway Kinnell, a notable bard of the blackberry.<\/p>\n

Kinnell offers a kind of master class in blackberry poetics, synthesizing themes that sprout separately in the work of other poets: pleasure and danger; the passage of time; the power of language.<\/p>\n

Robert Hass is, like Kinnell, a student of blackberry linguistics. In \u201cPicking Blackberries With a Friend Who Has Been Reading Jacques Lacan\u201d \u2014 a French psychoanalyst notorious for his counterintuitive theories of language \u2014 the friend winds up with his \u201cbeard stained purple \/ by the word juice<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

Another blackberry poem of Hass\u2019s, \u201cMeditation at Lagunitas,\u201d ponders the mysteries of meaning:<\/p>\n

b<\/span>e<\/span>c<\/span>a<\/span>u<\/span>s<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>t<\/span>h<\/span>e<\/span>r<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>i<\/span>s<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>i<\/span>n<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>t<\/span>h<\/span>i<\/span>s<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>w<\/span>o<\/span>r<\/span>l<\/span>d<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>n<\/span>o<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>o<\/span>n<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>t<\/span>h<\/span>i<\/span>n<\/span>g<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

t<\/span>o<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>w<\/span>h<\/span>i<\/span>c<\/span>h<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>t<\/span>h<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>b<\/span>r<\/span>a<\/span>m<\/span>b<\/span>l<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>o<\/span>f<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>b<\/span>l<\/span>a<\/span>c<\/span>k<\/span>b<\/span>e<\/span>r<\/span>r<\/span>y<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>c<\/span>o<\/span>r<\/span>r<\/span>e<\/span>s<\/span>p<\/span>o<\/span>n<\/span>d<\/span>s<\/span><\/span>,<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

a<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>w<\/span>o<\/span>r<\/span>d<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>i<\/span>s<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>e<\/span>l<\/span>e<\/span>g<\/span>y<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>t<\/span>o<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>w<\/span>h<\/span>a<\/span>t<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>i<\/span>t<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>s<\/span>i<\/span>g<\/span>n<\/span>i<\/span>f<\/span>i<\/span>e<\/span>s<\/span><\/span>.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

He concludes with an incantation, distilling the fruit into pure language.<\/p>\n

S<\/span>u<\/span>c<\/span>h<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>t<\/span>e<\/span>n<\/span>d<\/span>e<\/span>r<\/span>n<\/span>e<\/span>s<\/span>s<\/span><\/span>,<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span>t<\/span>h<\/span>o<\/span>s<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>a<\/span>f<\/span>t<\/span>e<\/span>r<\/span>n<\/span>o<\/span>o<\/span>n<\/span>s<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>a<\/span>n<\/span>d<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>e<\/span>v<\/span>e<\/span>n<\/span>i<\/span>n<\/span>g<\/span>s<\/span><\/span>,<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

s<\/span>a<\/span>y<\/span>i<\/span>n<\/span>g<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>b<\/span>l<\/span>a<\/span>c<\/span>k<\/span>b<\/span>e<\/span>r<\/span>r<\/span>y<\/span><\/span>,<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span>b<\/span>l<\/span>a<\/span>c<\/span>k<\/span>b<\/span>e<\/span>r<\/span>r<\/span>y<\/span><\/span>,<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span>b<\/span>l<\/span>a<\/span>c<\/span>k<\/span>b<\/span>e<\/span>r<\/span>r<\/span>y<\/span><\/span>.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Other poets insist on the importance, literal and symbolic, of actual blackberries. In a rambling meditation called \u201cThe Walk,\u201d James Schuyler asks:<\/p>\n

R<\/span>e<\/span>m<\/span>e<\/span>m<\/span>b<\/span>e<\/span>r<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

w<\/span>h<\/span>e<\/span>n<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>y<\/span>o<\/span>u<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>p<\/span>i<\/span>c<\/span>k<\/span>e<\/span>d<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

t<\/span>h<\/span>e<\/span>m<\/span><\/span>?<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

And many poets do.<\/p>\n

The juice of the berries colors their memories.<\/p>\n

T<\/span>h<\/span>e<\/span>y<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>l<\/span>e<\/span>f<\/span>t<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>m<\/span>y<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>h<\/span>a<\/span>n<\/span>d<\/span>s<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>l<\/span>i<\/span>k<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>a<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>p<\/span>r<\/span>i<\/span>n<\/span>t<\/span>e<\/span>r<\/span>\u2019<\/span>s<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

O<\/span>r<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>t<\/span>h<\/span>i<\/span>e<\/span>f<\/span>\u2019<\/span>s<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>b<\/span>e<\/span>f<\/span>o<\/span>r<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>a<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>p<\/span>o<\/span>l<\/span>i<\/span>c<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>b<\/span>l<\/span>o<\/span>t<\/span>t<\/span>e<\/span>r<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

So begins Yusef Komunyakaa\u2019s \u201cBlackberries.\u201d His 10-year-old self, eating half his haul and saving the rest to sell on the roadside, encounters humiliation, longing and a blunt reminder of the world\u2019s unfairness when he sees himself through the eyes of wealthy children riding past in a car.<\/p>\n

Seamus Heaney\u2019s \u201cBlackberry-Picking,\u201d about foraging with his childhood friends in the Northern Irish countryside, follows a similar trajectory. Stained hands and sweet berries give way to disappointment:<\/p>\n

I<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>a<\/span>l<\/span>w<\/span>a<\/span>y<\/span>s<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>f<\/span>e<\/span>l<\/span>t<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>l<\/span>i<\/span>k<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>c<\/span>r<\/span>y<\/span>i<\/span>n<\/span>g<\/span><\/span>.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span>I<\/span>t<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>w<\/span>a<\/span>s<\/span>n<\/span>\u2019<\/span>t<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>f<\/span>a<\/span>i<\/span>r<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

T<\/span>h<\/span>a<\/span>t<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>a<\/span>l<\/span>l<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>t<\/span>h<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>l<\/span>o<\/span>v<\/span>e<\/span>l<\/span>y<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>c<\/span>a<\/span>n<\/span>f<\/span>u<\/span>l<\/span>s<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>s<\/span>m<\/span>e<\/span>l<\/span>t<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>o<\/span>f<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>r<\/span>o<\/span>t<\/span><\/span>.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

E<\/span>a<\/span>c<\/span>h<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>y<\/span>e<\/span>a<\/span>r<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>I<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>h<\/span>o<\/span>p<\/span>e<\/span>d<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>t<\/span>h<\/span>e<\/span>y<\/span>\u2019<\/span>d<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>k<\/span>e<\/span>e<\/span>p<\/span><\/span>,<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span>k<\/span>n<\/span>e<\/span>w<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>t<\/span>h<\/span>e<\/span>y<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>w<\/span>o<\/span>u<\/span>l<\/span>d<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>n<\/span>o<\/span>t<\/span><\/span>.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Those blackberries impart a somber lesson. Loveliness is not meant to last.<\/p>\n

LaVerne Harrell Clark\/University of Arizona Poetry Center<\/p>\n

Edu Bayer for The New York Times<\/p>\n

Amherst College Archives and Special Collections<\/p>\n

Clockwise from top left, the blackberry enthusiasts Galway Kinnell, Yusef Komunyakaa, Emily Dickinson and Sylvia Plath.<\/p>\n

LaVerne Harrell Clark, 1970 Arizona Board of Regents, University of Arizona Poetry Center; Edu Bayer for The New York Times; Amherst College Archives and Special Collections; Bettmann Archive, via Getty Images.<\/p>\n

Grownup pickers in poems by Richard Wilbur and Margaret Atwood have absorbed such knowledge. Atwood shares the wisdom of old age with a younger berry-picker:<\/p>\n

T<\/span>h<\/span>a<\/span>t<\/span>\u2019<\/span>s<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>g<\/span>o<\/span>o<\/span>d<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>t<\/span>i<\/span>m<\/span>e<\/span>s<\/span><\/span>:<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span>o<\/span>n<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>l<\/span>i<\/span>t<\/span>t<\/span>l<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>s<\/span>w<\/span>e<\/span>e<\/span>t<\/span>n<\/span>e<\/span>s<\/span>s<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

a<\/span>f<\/span>t<\/span>e<\/span>r<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>a<\/span>n<\/span>o<\/span>t<\/span>h<\/span>e<\/span>r<\/span><\/span>,<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span>t<\/span>h<\/span>e<\/span>n<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>q<\/span>u<\/span>i<\/span>c<\/span>k<\/span>l<\/span>y<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>g<\/span>o<\/span>n<\/span>e<\/span><\/span>.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

A blackberry, arriving late in summer, brings news of mortality \u2014 an omen, to Wilbur:<\/p>\n

t<\/span>h<\/span>a<\/span>t<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>a<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>n<\/span>i<\/span>g<\/span>h<\/span>t<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>m<\/span>a<\/span>y<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>c<\/span>o<\/span>m<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>i<\/span>n<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>w<\/span>h<\/span>i<\/span>c<\/span>h<\/span><\/span>,<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span>s<\/span>o<\/span>m<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>s<\/span>a<\/span>y<\/span><\/span>,<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

W<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>s<\/span>h<\/span>a<\/span>l<\/span>l<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>h<\/span>a<\/span>v<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>o<\/span>n<\/span>l<\/span>y<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>b<\/span>l<\/span>a<\/span>c<\/span>k<\/span>n<\/span>e<\/span>s<\/span>s<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>t<\/span>o<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>b<\/span>e<\/span>h<\/span>o<\/span>l<\/span>d<\/span><\/span>.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Such fatalism is part of the berry\u2019s allure. While we can certainly savor poems, like Mary Oliver\u2019s \u201cAugust,\u201d that celebrate the simple joys of blackberrying \u2014 \u201cthere is \/ this happy tongue,\u201d she exults in the last line \u2014 a thornier strain grows thicker. Call it Dark Blackberry.<\/p>\n

Sylvia Plath, following a path to the ocean in \u201cBlackberrying,\u201d leads us through a landscape both fruitful and terrifying. She renders our favorite fruits with vivid, witchy intensity (brandishing a shiny poetic synonym for \u201cblack\u201d):<\/p>\n

B<\/span>i<\/span>g<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>a<\/span>s<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>t<\/span>h<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>b<\/span>a<\/span>l<\/span>l<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>o<\/span>f<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>m<\/span>y<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>t<\/span>h<\/span>u<\/span>m<\/span>b<\/span><\/span>,<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span>a<\/span>n<\/span>d<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>d<\/span>u<\/span>m<\/span>b<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>a<\/span>s<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>e<\/span>y<\/span>e<\/span>s<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

E<\/span>b<\/span>o<\/span>n<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>i<\/span>n<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>t<\/span>h<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>h<\/span>e<\/span>d<\/span>g<\/span>e<\/span>s<\/span><\/span>,<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span>f<\/span>a<\/span>t<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

W<\/span>i<\/span>t<\/span>h<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>b<\/span>l<\/span>u<\/span>e<\/span><\/span>–<\/span><\/span>r<\/span>e<\/span>d<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span>j<\/span>u<\/span>i<\/span>c<\/span>e<\/span>s<\/span><\/span>.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span>T<\/span>h<\/span>e<\/span>s<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>t<\/span>h<\/span>e<\/span>y<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>s<\/span>q<\/span>u<\/span>a<\/span>n<\/span>d<\/span>e<\/span>r<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>o<\/span>n<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>m<\/span>y<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>f<\/span>i<\/span>n<\/span>g<\/span>e<\/span>r<\/span>s<\/span><\/span>.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

I<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>h<\/span>a<\/span>d<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>n<\/span>o<\/span>t<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>a<\/span>s<\/span>k<\/span>e<\/span>d<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>f<\/span>o<\/span>r<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>s<\/span>u<\/span>c<\/span>h<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>a<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>b<\/span>l<\/span>o<\/span>o<\/span>d<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>s<\/span>i<\/span>s<\/span>t<\/span>e<\/span>r<\/span>h<\/span>o<\/span>o<\/span>d<\/span><\/span>;<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span>t<\/span>h<\/span>e<\/span>y<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>m<\/span>u<\/span>s<\/span>t<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>l<\/span>o<\/span>v<\/span>e<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>m<\/span>e<\/span><\/span>.<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Blackberries crop up in poems as metaphors and memories, and sometimes just as words, but Plath\u2019s \u2014 like Kinnell\u2019s when they drop \u201cunbidden\u201d into his mouth \u2014 seem to belong to a wilder species, possessing desires and feelings of their own. But neither Plath nor Kinnell thinks too much about what those desires and feelings might be.<\/p>\n

Modern poets dwell on what it means to pick blackberries, and what it\u2019s like to eat them. But who speaks for the blackberry?<\/p>\n

Emily Dickinson.<\/p>\n

Dickinson, arguably the greatest nature poet (and religious poet and love poet) of the American 19th century, didn\u2019t just observe the flora and fauna around her. She treated them \u2014 birds and bugs, flowers and snakes \u2014 as fellow creatures, characters in the tragicomic pageant of life and death. To her, a blackberry is a living, suffering being.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By A.O. Scott A.O. Scott, a critic at large for the Book Review, recorded the poetry readings that appear in this piece. Sept. 28, 2025 Forget about apples and oranges \u2014 nothing rhymes with orange anyway. Never mind those plums that William Carlos Williams sneaked from the icebox. The most poetic fruit of all is<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":24529,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[54],"tags":[14881,2290,6206,14884,14882,13419,14883,6811,2524],"class_list":{"0":"post-24528","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-entertainment","8":"tag-blackberry","9":"tag-dickinson","10":"tag-emily","11":"tag-heaney","12":"tag-plath","13":"tag-poems","14":"tag-seamus","15":"tag-sylvia","16":"tag-wildest"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24528","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=24528"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24528\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/24529"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=24528"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=24528"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/naijaglobalnews.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=24528"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}