Louise Gluck

(22 April 1943 / New York / United States)

Louise Gluck Poems

1. The Racer's Widow 6/24/2015
2. An Adventure 6/30/2015
3. A Fable 9/15/2015
4. Epithalamium 10/20/2015
5. A Summer Garden 5/25/2016
6. Aboriginal Landscape 5/25/2016
7. Afterword 5/25/2016
8. Archaic Fragment 5/25/2016
9. Dawn 5/25/2016
10. Portrait 4/7/2015
11. Early December in Croton-on-Hudson 5/25/2016
12. Elms 5/25/2016
13. The Empty Glass 5/25/2016
14. End of Winter 5/25/2016
15. Humidifier 5/25/2016
16. Hyacinth 5/25/2016
17. Mock Orange 5/25/2016
18. Mother and Child 5/25/2016
19. Nocturne 5/25/2016
20. Parable of the Hostages 5/25/2016
21. Parable of the Swans 5/25/2016
22. Visitors from Abroad 5/25/2016
23. Vita Nova 5/25/2016
24. A Myth of Devotion 6/15/2015
25. Midsummer 5/25/2016
26. The Wish 7/28/2016
27. The Drowned Children 5/25/2016
28. The Past 6/18/2015
29. The Myth Of Innocence 3/21/2015
30. October 11/21/2014
31. Poem 1/1/2004
32. Retreating Wind 1/1/2004
33. Saints 1/1/2004
34. Summer 1/1/2004
35. The Garden 1/1/2004
36. The Fear Of Burial 1/1/2004
37. The Pond 1/1/2004
38. The Butterfly 1/1/2004
39. The Gold Lily 1/1/2004
40. The White Lilies 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Louise Gluck

Celestial Music

I have a friend who still believes in heaven.
Not a stupid person, yet with all she knows, she literally talks to God.
She thinks someone listens in heaven.
On earth she's unusually competent.
Brave too, able to face unpleasantness.

We found a caterpillar dying in the dirt, greedy ants crawling over it.
I'm always moved by disaster, always eager to oppose vitality
But timid also, quick to shut my eyes.
Whereas my friend was able to watch, to let events play out
According to nature. For my sake she intervened
Brushing a few ants off the torn thing, and set it ...

Read the full of Celestial Music

A Fantasy

I'll tell you something: every day
people are dying. And that's just the beginning.
Every day, in funeral homes, new widows are born,
new orphans. They sit with their hands folded,
trying to decide about this new life.

Then they're in the cemetery, some of them
for the first time. They're frightened of crying,
sometimes of not crying. Someone leans over,

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