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Louise Gluck
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Louise Gluck Poems
- Celestial Music I have a friend who still believes in ...
- A Fantasy I'll tell you something: every day people are ...
- First Memory Long ago, I was wounded. I lived to revenge ...
- Circe's Power I never turned anyone into a pig. Some people ...
- Early Darkness How can you say earth should give me joy? ...
- Happiness A man and a woman lie on a white bed. It is ...
- All Hallows Even now this landscape is assembling. The hills...
Born in 1943, Louise Glück is an American poet. She was born in New York City and grew up in Long Island. Her father helped invent the X-Acto Knife. Glück graduated in 1961 from George W. Hewlett High School, in Hewlett, New York. She went on to attend Sarah Lawrence College and Columbia University.
Glück won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1993 for her collection The Wild Iris. Glück is the recipient of the National Book Critics Circle Award (Triumph of Achilles), the Academy of American Poet's Prize (Firstborn), as well as numerous Guggenheim fellowships. She lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and was previously a Senior Lecturer in English at Williams College in Williamstown, ... more »
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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 ...
depressed!
wonderful! Such deep insight in emotional understanding.
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All Hallows has a lovely dark chill that gives me a tingle, one of my favourite poems as of today, you are a wonderful poet, I wish I could aspire to your heights, thank you for your work.
I'm wondering why my comment about Matins seems to have been repeated (not by myself) .
I liked the Third Stanza:
' How can you understand me,
if you can't understand your self.'
This is not your poem. Good try though. Its by John Donne.