Jack Gilbert

(1925 - / Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania)

Jack Gilbert Poems

1. Going Wrong 8/18/2015
2. South 5/4/2012
3. Poetry Is A Kind Of Lying 4/15/2015
4. Summer At Blue Creek, North Carolina 5/4/2012
5. The Mistake 5/4/2012
6. Going There 5/4/2012
7. Horses At Midnight Without A Moon 5/4/2012
8. A Brief For The Defense 5/4/2012
9. Failing And Flying 5/4/2012
10. Recovering Amid The Farms 1/13/2003
11. In Umbria 1/1/2004
12. Portrait Number Five: Against A New York Summer 1/1/2004
13. In Dispraise Of Poetry 1/13/2003
14. Searching For Pittsburgh 1/13/2003
15. The Abnormal Is Not Courage 1/13/2003
16. The Great Fires 1/13/2003
17. The Forgotten Dialect Of The Heart 1/13/2003
18. Tear It Down 1/13/2003
19. Divorce 1/13/2003
20. Rain 1/13/2003

Comments about Jack Gilbert

  • Sonia (7/4/2018 10:56:00 AM)

    Want to know if he wrote the following poem: When you live every hour by the grace of His power and you know He will guide you aright, then day in and day out faith is stronger than doubt, and faith puts your worries to flight.

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  • Dorothy Wilson (12/16/2017 1:34:00 PM)

    I love this poem. It's the first one of his that I have read. It shocks the heart and destroys judgment- that's how it affected me anyway. Thanks for posting it.

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  • Ronald Jorgensen (5/31/2013 3:22:00 PM)

    Entering the website through the search phrase on Google of all poems of Jack Gilbert, and finding that tag on the site, clicking on it is not fruitful. I wanted to see his poem, Guilty, and got nothing in the search for it. Do you not, in fact, have all of his poems as the tag promises? I am disappointed, for Guilty is one of his great creations (in my opinion, of course) , and stands as a creative originality even in the context of his already creative originality generally.

    After writing this comment, I found I was able to locate the poem elsewhere and have copied and pasted it below for your consideration. I'd, of course, be interested in reactions.

    The man certainly looked guilty.
    Ugly, ragged, and not clean. Not to mention
    their finding him there in the woods
    with her body. Neighbors told how he was
    always playing with dead squirrels,
    mangled dogs, even snakes. He said
    those were the only things that would
    allow him to get close. Look at me,
    the old man said with uncomplaining
    simplicity, I'm already one of the dead
    among the dead. It's hard to watch things
    humiliated the way death does it.
    Possums smeared on the road, birds with ants
    eating out their eyes. Even dying rats
    want privacy for their disgrace.
    It's true I washed the dirt from her face
    and the blood off the body. Combed her hair.
    I slept beside her, at her feet for two days,
    the way my dog used to. I got the dress
    on the best I could. She looked so neglected.
    Like garbage thrown in the weeds.
    Like nobody cared because he had done that
    to her. I kept thinking about how long
    she is going to be alone now. I knew
    the police would take pictures and put them
    in the papers naked and open so people
    eating breakfast could look at her. I wanted
    to give her spirit enough time to get ready.

    Thank you for the opportunity to share this,


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Best Poem of Jack Gilbert


Suddenly this defeat.
This rain.
The blues gone gray
And the browns gone gray
And yellow
A terrible amber.
In the cold streets
Your warm body.
In whatever room
Your warm body.
Among all the people
Your absence
The people who are always
Not you.

I have been easy with trees
Too long.
Too familiar with mountains.
Joy has been a habit.
This rain.

Anonymous submission.

Read the full of Rain

Searching For Pittsburgh

The fox pushes softly, blindly through me at night,
between the liver and the stomach. Comes to the heart
and hesitates. Considers and then goes around it.
Trying to escape the mildness of our violent world.
Goes deeper, searching for what remains of Pittsburgh
in me. The rusting mills sprawled gigantically
along three rivers. The authority of them.
The gritty alleys where we played every evening were
stained pink by the inferno always surging in the sky,

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