Galway Kinnell

(1 February 1927 / Providence, Rhode Island)

Galway Kinnell Poems

1. Crying 11/2/2015
2. The Stone Table 10/13/2015
3. The Man Splitting Wood In The Daybreak 4/3/2012
4. The Correspondence School Instructor Says Goodbye To His Poetry Students 11/27/2014
5. The Still Time 2/19/2015
6. Burning 4/3/2012
7. Lastness 4/3/2012
8. Another Night In Ruins 4/3/2012
9. Flower Herding On Mount Monadnock 4/3/2012
10. Why Regret 4/3/2012
11. Rapture 4/3/2012
12. Parkinson's Disease 4/3/2012
13. The Bear 4/3/2012
14. Little Sleep's-Head Sprouting Hair In The Moonlight 1/13/2003
15. Fergus Falling 1/13/2003
16. Telephoning In Mexican Sunlight 1/13/2003
17. Vapor Train Reflected In The Frog Pond 1/20/2003
18. The Perch 1/13/2003
19. Poem Of Night 1/13/2003
20. How Could You Not 1/13/2003
21. Two Seasons 1/13/2003
22. The Cellist 1/13/2003
23. St. Francis And The Sow 1/13/2003
24. Daybreak 1/13/2003
25. After Making Love We Hear Footsteps 1/13/2003
26. Blackberry Eating 1/13/2003
27. Oatmeal 1/13/2003
28. Wait 1/13/2003

Comments about Galway Kinnell

  • Amber (9/9/2018 11:52:00 AM)

    The reader is terrible. It distracts from the writing. It sounds lie it is artificial.

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Deirdre (5/28/2018 7:29:00 AM)

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Best Poem of Galway Kinnell


Wait, for now.
Distrust everything, if you have to.
But trust the hours. Haven't they
carried you everywhere, up to now?
Personal events will become interesting again.
Hair will become interesting.
Pain will become interesting.
Buds that open out of season will become lovely again.
Second-hand gloves will become lovely again,
their memories are what give them
the need for other hands. And the desolation
of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness
carved out of such tiny beings as we are
asks to be filled; the need
for the new love is faithfulness...

Read the full of Wait

St. Francis And The Sow

The bud
stands for all things,
even those things that don't flower,
for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
though sometimes it is necessary
to reteach a thing its loveliness,
to put a hand on its brow
of the flower
and retell it in words and in touch

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