Louise Gluck

(22 April 1943 / New York / United States)

Louise Gluck Poems

1. Portrait 4/7/2015
2. The Racer's Widow -new- 6/24/2015
3. An Adventure -new- 6/30/2015
4. The Past 6/18/2015
5. A Myth of Devotion 6/15/2015
6. The Myth Of Innocence 3/21/2015
7. October 11/21/2014
8. Retreating Wind 1/1/2004
9. Saints 1/1/2004
10. The Pond 1/1/2004
11. Poem 1/1/2004
12. Summer 1/1/2004
13. The Gold Lily 1/1/2004
14. The Garden 1/1/2004
15. The Fear Of Burial 1/1/2004
16. The Butterfly 1/1/2004
17. Snowdrops 1/1/2004
18. The Triumph Of Achilles 1/1/2004
19. The White Lilies 1/1/2004
20. Siren 1/1/2004
21. The Silver Lily 1/1/2004
22. Snow 1/1/2004
23. Vespers 1/1/2004
24. Parable Of Faith 1/1/2004
25. Nostos 1/1/2004
26. The Untrustworthy Speaker 1/1/2004
27. The Red Poppy 1/1/2004
28. Parousia 1/1/2004
29. Castile 1/1/2004
30. Widows 1/1/2004
31. Cana 1/1/2004
32. Labor Day 1/1/2004
33. Penelope's Song 1/1/2004
34. Matins 1/1/2004
35. Parable Of The Dove 1/1/2004
36. Circe's Torment 1/1/2004
37. Odysseus' Decision 1/1/2004
38. Lullaby 1/1/2004
39. Confession 1/1/2004
40. Circe's Grief 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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