Customer Reviews

New and Selected Poems

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Mary Oliver is living proof that poetry is not something that was invented, rather something that has been present since creation, in us and in nature, waiting to be discovered. And for the last thirty years Mary Oliver has not so much written poetry, but searched for, and discovered, the poetry that has existed in the world all along. It is, of course, much more complicated than that. Oliver's poetry is crafted with delicate, precise language. She lays her words out lazily across the page, often breaking the poem into three or four beat lines, letting a metaphor string out through an entire stanza. It is her imagery, her close observance of the world, that leads to the "ideas" in her poems. There is a moment in nearly all of her poems where the speaker moves from the exterior to the interior, from the water-lily cracking open to the creases in the human heart. What makes her poetry work is that none of this seems forced. It is as if she is taking the reader by the hand and saying, "Look! The sun is rising. Watch it with me for a moment and we'll decide for ourselves why it rises. For certainly, it must have its reasons."

Mary Oliver writes consistently moving, earthy poetry that reaches deep into what it means to live. I find her work magical, especially the way her writing about natural phenomena and animal relationships means so much to actual interactions with people. What's wonderful here is that Mary Oliver writes about the meta-story of human experience. Instead of delivering the poignancy of a personal story of romance, tragedy or success in the personal sphere, Oliver takes an image from nature and her experience with nature and weaves a story that has relevance for all people, no matter their cultural background. This writing could inspire the leaders of our civilization just as much as it could inspire tribal chiefs of aboriginal people. For example:

Sunrise

You can
die for it--
an idea,
or the world. People

have done so,
brilliantly,
letting
their small bodies be bound

to the stake,
creating
an unforgettable
fury of light. But

this morning,
climbing the familiar hills
in the familiar
fabric of dawn, I thought

of China,
and India
and Europe, and I thought
how the sun

blazes
for everyone just
so joyfully
as it rises

under the lashes
of my own eyes, and I thought
I am so many!
What is my name?

What is the name
of the deep breath I would take
over and over
for all of us? Call it

whatever you want, it is
happiness, and it is another one
of the ways to enter
fire.

Languid use of language to paint a picture of our souls. "The Journey" shook the very foundation of my being. It is my journey. It is me. How I tremble when someone comes so close to my soul. How hard to turn your back and "do the thing you are determined to do". I think this poem may have save my life today.

This anthology of many of Mary Oliver's most compelling poems will be embraced by anyone who believes that the wonders of life and of nature can be expressed in taught, gorgeous language without sentiment but with passion and love