Friday Farewell - Mary Oliver

Poet, Mary Oliver passed away yesterday at the age of 83.  She didn't write "fancy" poetry, as she called it.  She just wrote from the heart and could capture nature, life, and love with stunning imagery.  I admired her work, and fortunately, her words will live on.

Here is a stanza from  Dream of Trees  by Mary Oliver

There is a thing in me that dreamed of trees,

A quiet house, some green and modest acres

A little way from every troubling town,

A little way from factories, schools, laments.

I would have time, I thought, and time to spare,

With only streams and birds for company,

To build out of my life a few wild stanzas.

And then it came to me, that so was death,

A little way away from everywhere.

Book Review - Felicity by Mary Oliver

Book cover blurb sums it up
Our most delicate chronicler of physical landscape, Mary Oliver has described her work as loving the world. With Felicity she examines what it means to love another person. She opens our eyes to the territory within our own hearts, to the wild and to the quiet. 

This book is filled with joy. Economy of words, simple phrases - they all paint a wise picture of life and love.

Here are the opening lines to I Don't Want to Lose

I don't want to lose a single thread
from the intricate brocade of this happiness
I want to remember everything

Seek out Mary Oliver's poetry. It will give you a sense of peace and calm.
A soothing balm after a stress-filled day.

Book Review: Blue Horses by Mary Oliver

Every so often I'll check a book of poems out of the library. You can't go wrong with Mary Oliver. Her latest collection, Blue Horses, is a treat and yes it makes me feel very inadequate when I re-read my own poetry. But that's okay.

cover blurb:  Mary Oliver returns to the stunning imagery that has defined her life's work, describing with wonder both the everyday and the unaffected beauty of nature.

Here are two stanzas from Stebbin's Gulch
              the water pours
              it pours
              it pours
              ever along the slant

              of downgrade
              dashing its silver thumbs
              against the rock
              or pausing to carve

Her poems seem simple, but they are rich with humor and observation. As the reader, you are on a stroll with her and she stops to point out something. Then you stand and discuss it a bit. When you move on, you are a better person for that moment in time.