Why should I have it, and not the anteater who loves her children? Why should I have it, and not the camel? Come to think of it, what about the maple trees? What about the blue iris? What about all the little stones, sitting alone in the moonlight? What about roses, and lemons, and their shining leaves? What about the grass? The soul is a theme that floats through this collection as Oliver grapples with the possibility of its existence and the question of what becomes of us when we die.
Out doors, in the company of nature and not people, is when the quiet answers to the universe seem to whisper themselves in her heart. Oliver seems herself a Buddhist as she declares a soul, a light inside all living things, none less beautiful than the rest. I want to believe that the imperfections are nothing— that the light is everything—that it is more than the sum of each flawed blossom rising and fading.
And I do. Her words are immensely uplifting and empowering as she urges us to maintain a quiet serenity in our hearts. Her words are always so clear, simple and still, like a cool body of water on a sunny day where the rocks on the bottom many feet down can be seen from the surface. Reading her words are like a walk in the forest, refreshing and humbling as they remind you of the things that really matter in life. I think of this every morning as the east begins to tear off its many clouds of darkness, to send up the first signal — a white fan streaked with pink and violet, even green.
An old man, he lay down between two sala trees, and he might have said anything, knowing it was his final hour. The light burns upward, it thickens and settles over the fields. Around him, the villagers gathered and stretched forward to listen. Even before the sun itself hangs, disattached, in the blue air, I am touched everywhere by its ocean of yellow waves.
No doubt he thought of everything that had happened in his difficult life. Slowly, beneath the branches, he raised his head. He looked into the faces of that frightened crowd. This light, this purity, speaks to us in every poem. Oliver reminds us to be good to one another, to respect the world around us, and to humble oneself in its immense beauty and mysteries.
We must accept love and give love, we must try to be a light, because a light can spread and cover the world, comforting and improving the lives of all those it touches. Singapore In Singapore, in the airport, A darkness was ripped from my eyes. A woman knelt there, washing something in the white bowl. Disgust argued in my stomach and I felt, in my pocket, for my ticket.
A poem should always have birds in it. Kingfishers, say, with their bold eyes and gaudy wings. Rivers are pleasant, and of course trees. A person wants to stand in a happy place, in a poem.
When the woman turned I could not answer her face. Her beauty and her embarrassment struggled together, and neither could win. She smiled and I smiled. What kind of nonsense is this? Everybody needs a job. Yes, a person wants to stand in a happy place, in a poem.
But first we must watch her as she stares down at her labor, which is dull enough. She is washing the tops of the airport ashtrays, as big as hubcaps, with a blue rag. Her small hands turn the metal, scrubbing and rinsing. She does not work slowly, nor quickly, like a river. Her dark hair is like the wing of a bird.
And I want to rise up from the crust and the slop and fly down to the river. But maybe it will. If the world were only pain and logic, who would want it? Neither do I mean anything miraculous, but only the light that can shine out of a life.
I mean the way she unfolded and refolded the blue cloth, The way her smile was only for my sake; I mean the way this poem is filled with trees, and birds. This is such a moving poem one of the three singled out with a dot in the Table of Contents and is unique in this collection, being an incredible humanizing poem as it turns a eye of pity on our species instead of an eye of wonder towards nature.
We watch Oliver chastise herself for her initial disgust, her initial pretentions against the lower classes of society, and learn to love the smiling face. Yet she never applies a foreboding tone, but instead looks at it as the natural course.
A flower never fears its demise, so why should we. Her impressions of death reshape as the collection progresses, often asking if there is a life on the other side, often viewing it as a void or then a darkness, yet finally, in White Owl Flies Into and Out of the Field , Oliver reveals to be pure brilliant beauty. To merely give the final few lines that I wish to highlight, instead of the entire poem, would be an insult.
Coming down out of the freezing sky with its depths of light, like an angel, or a Buddha with wings, it was beautiful, and accurate, striking the snow and whatever was there with a force that left the imprint of the tips of its wings — five feet apart — and the grabbing thrust of its feet, and the indentation of what had been running through the white valleys of the snow — and then it rose, gracefully, and flew back to the frozen marshes to lurk there, like a little lighthouse, in the blue shadows — so I thought: maybe death isn't darkness, after all, but so much light wrapping itself around us — as soft as feathers — that we are instantly weary of looking, and looking, and shut our eyes, not without amazement, and let ourselves be carried, as through the translucence of mica, to the river that is without the least dapple or shadow, that is nothing but light — scalding, aortal light — in which we are washed and washed out of our bones.
What a phenomenal depiction of death, as a white owl that silently snatches us from life. Death and the soul are discussed with such delicate, simple phrases of supreme potency that will wash the readers heart and soul in order to make it glow with the light of the Buddha.
Mary Oliver is a national treasure. They came slowly down the hill and looked at me sitting under the blue trees, shyly they stepped closer and stared from under their thick lashes and even nibbled some damp tassels of weeds.
This is not a poem about a dream, though it could be. This is a poem about the world that is ours, or could be. Finally one of them — I swear it! But the other stamped sharp hoof in the pine needles like the tap of sanity, and they went off together through the trees. When I woke I was alone, I was thinking: so this is how you swim inward, so this is how you flow outward, so this is how you pray.
Joselito Honestly and Brilliantly. My favourite poet. I find it most difficult, almost impossible in fact, to write a review of an entire book of poems. All I can do is to is to quote which I like among them.
I am not a very ironic person. I've learned that over the past couple of years: of course I like some irony and some sarcasm now and again, and it will nearly always make me laugh, but what I really love is earnestness. Maybe I should be reading more poetry. Mary Oliver's collection of poetry is about nature and light and loveliness, and there is a pervasive sense of open-heartedness and earnestness throughout that I found to be really moving.
Companion to the Book of Literary Terms, an indispensable handbook, revised and updated for today's users. Turn on a single lamp and read it while you're alone in an otherwise dark room or while someone sleeps next to you. Say it over to yourself in a place where silence reigns and the din of culture—. Following the success of several recent inspirational and practical books for would-be writers, Poemcrazy is a perfect guide for everyone who ever wanted to write a poem but was afraid to try.
Writing workshop leader Susan Wooldridge shows how to think, use one's senses, and practice exercises that will make. Recently appointed as the new U. Poet Laureate, Ted Kooser has been writing and publishing poetry for more than forty years. Here are tools and insights, the instructions and warnings against instructions. This guide to versification is immensely useful for anyone interested in poetry or in general poetic structure.
Concise and informal, it offers a systematic study of meter, tempo, rhyme, and other components of verse. This collection of poems by Mary Oliver once again invites the reader to step across the threshold of ordinary life into a world of natural and spiritual luminosity. Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
From the nuts and bolts of craft to the sources of inspiration, this book is for anyone who wants to write poetry-and do it well. The Poet's Companion presents brief essays on the elements of poetry, technique, and suggested subjects for writing, each followed by distinctive writing exercises. The ups. Download or read online Poetry Handbook written by Anonim, published by Macmillan International Higher Education which was released on This poetry handbook will appeal to many: ELA and ESL middle school teachers, after-school enrichment coordinators, middle school students curious about poetry, and more!
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