Stronger in the Broken Places [Paperback]

Sheila Cowing (Author)

Product Details

• Paperback: 72 pages
• Publisher: Sherman Asher Pub; Softcover Ed edition (April 1999)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 189093206X
• ISBN-13: 978-1890932060
• Product Dimensions: 9 x 6 x 0.3 inches
• Shipping Weight: 4.2 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
• Average Customer Review: 5.0 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (2 customer reviews)
• Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #6,402,796 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

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Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

5.0 out of 5 stars Intimate, immediate, lyrical, and memorable, February 16, 2001

By 

Midwest Book Review (Oregon, WI USA) - See all my reviews

This review is from: Stronger in the Broken Places (Paperback)

The poetry of Sheila Cowing comprising Stronger In The Broken Places is vivid, intimate, immediate, lyrical, and memorable. Tidewater Specialties: On the cover the man leans to his gun,/his dog poised with her paw lifted, ears perked./Above the frozen reeds the goose glides toward them/open for landing, wings thrust back.//What I saw were the heavy bodies/strung by their feet from the clothesline,/the delicate, tapering heads;/you in the front hall braking the back of your gun./For years it's worked to hate hunting/and the sweet smell of gun oil on yellow flannel,/to study marshes where purple hoods defy snow,/rails slip through eerie grasses./I've kept those marshes secret./I still can't wear the pin you gave me,/the two gold geese flying.

0 of 1 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Vivid Poetry, November 20, 2000

By A Customer

This review is from: Stronger in the Broken Places (Paperback)

The November 2000 issue of Midwest Book Review praises poet Sheila Cowing and writes : The poetry of Sheila Cowing comprising Stronger in the Broken Places is vivid, intimate, immediate, lyrical and memorable. TideWater Specialties: On the cover the man leans to his gun/his dog poised with her paw lifted, ears perked./Above the frozen reeds the goose glides toward them/ open for landing, wings thrust back.// What I saw were the heavy bodies/strung by their feet from the clotheline,/the delicate,tapering heads;/you in the front hall breaking the back of your gun./ For years it's worked to hate hunting/and the sweet smell of gun oil on yellow flannel,/to study marshes where purple hoods defy snow,/rails slip through eerie grasses./ I've kept those marshes secret./ I still can't wear the pin you gave me,/the two gold geese flying.