I mentioned in my profile that I really like Mary Oliver poetry. She touches something inside of me and I thought you might like to sample some of her words too. The feeling of her words on my spirit is like melting chocolate in my mouth. MMMMM! I read them slowly and savor the flavor. With so many of her poems, I feel like she is looking over my shoulder and sees my life. She voices my thoughts and feelings and questions. Just amazing.
"....for poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry."
Mary Oliver
Here is the first poem I read by her. I will post a few more later. Enjoy.
Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
3 comments:
Thank you very much! To my knowledge, only 3 people read my blog. I think this is a wonderful way to meet new people and learn fascinating things through people's ideas, thoughts, dreams, fears and hopes. It's so wonderful to be able to share those things with other people. I'm going to put up a couple of blogs that I enjoy reading, would it be alright if I put a link to your blog?
I like Mary Oliver's poetry. I have read her two books about writing poetry, A Poetry Handbook and Rules for the Game, a couple of times. They rank with the best of their kind.
It is good to hear from a Raymond Carver poetry fan. Your Mary Oliver quotation summarizes well how I feel about his poetry. I sometimes like to think of him as an older brother who bequeathed the better part of himself to me.
I live a few blocks from a Barnes & Noble bookstore and a Border's bookstore. It has played havoc with my wallet through the years. I am consoled knowing that somebody will inherit a mighty fine library after I am gone. But until then it is all deliciously mine.
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