by Mary Oliver from Thirst (Beacon Press)
When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness,
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness,
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, "It's simple," they say,
"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine."
I've been re-reading Mary Oliver's A Poetry Handbook: A Prose Guide to Understanding and Writing Poetry. It's an invaluable resource for those who want to write poetry, as well as anyone who wants to read poetry better. In discussing the hardware and tools of the craft (sounds, imagery, tone, rhythm), she invites readers to consider what makes a poem "work." In this way, we can say more than simply, "I like this poem."
I can say, "I like this poem because of the rhythm of the first stanza carries me like footsteps into a forest." Or, " I can clearly discern the voice of the poet in the second stanza." Even, "The sound of the third stanza-- the repetition of the sibilant S-- is inviting." All these go into making me like this poem just as much as the message in the final stanza.
And I do like this poem. A lot. For all the reasons given above and more. For me, every word, line, image, sound in this poem speaks volumes. I can just sit and read it over and over, like a mantra or a prayer, which it very much is.
In the final line of her poetry handbook, Mary Oliver writes, "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. Yes, indeed." Yes indeed, Mary Oliver, yes indeed.
Is there a particular poem that is bread for your soul?
How will you go easy in the world today?
"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine."
I've been re-reading Mary Oliver's A Poetry Handbook: A Prose Guide to Understanding and Writing Poetry. It's an invaluable resource for those who want to write poetry, as well as anyone who wants to read poetry better. In discussing the hardware and tools of the craft (sounds, imagery, tone, rhythm), she invites readers to consider what makes a poem "work." In this way, we can say more than simply, "I like this poem."
I can say, "I like this poem because of the rhythm of the first stanza carries me like footsteps into a forest." Or, " I can clearly discern the voice of the poet in the second stanza." Even, "The sound of the third stanza-- the repetition of the sibilant S-- is inviting." All these go into making me like this poem just as much as the message in the final stanza.
And I do like this poem. A lot. For all the reasons given above and more. For me, every word, line, image, sound in this poem speaks volumes. I can just sit and read it over and over, like a mantra or a prayer, which it very much is.
In the final line of her poetry handbook, Mary Oliver writes, "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. Yes, indeed." Yes indeed, Mary Oliver, yes indeed.
Is there a particular poem that is bread for your soul?
How will you go easy in the world today?
Thank you for this!
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