Mary Oliver

Mary Oliver Poems

If you see a poem only with title, it is listed that way because of copyright reasons.
1. Beans 12/16/2014
2. The Fourth Sign of the Zodiac 10/16/2015
3. Sand Dabs, Five 1/13/2003
4. Song Of The Builders 3/30/2005
5. The Moths 3/30/2005
6. That Sweet Flute John Clare 1/3/2003
7. The Lark 3/30/2005
8. On Winter's Margin 3/30/2005
9. The Lily 3/30/2005
10. One 3/30/2005
11. Mushrooms 3/30/2005
12. Hummingbird Pauses At The Trumpet Vine 3/30/2005
13. The Rapture 3/30/2005
14. Moccasin Flowers 1/13/2003
15. Morning Glories 1/13/2003
16. The Family 3/30/2005
17. Some Things The World Gave 1/13/2003
18. Stanley Kunitz 3/30/2005
19. The Truro Bear 3/30/2005
20. Walking To Oak-Head Pond, And Thinking Of The Ponds I Will Visit In The Next Days And Weeks 1/13/2003
21. Such Singing In The Wild Branches 3/30/2005
22. Skunk Cabbage 3/30/2005
23. Lightning 3/30/2005
24. Snowy Night 3/30/2005
25. Toward The Space Age 1/13/2003
26. Moles 1/13/2003
27. The Humpbacks 1/13/2003
28. The Kookaburras 1/13/2003
29. Knife 1/13/2003
30. Two Kinds Of Deliverance 3/30/2005
31. The Chance To Love Everything 1/3/2003
32. Happiness 3/30/2005
33. Climbing The Chagrin River 1/13/2003
34. Turtle 1/13/2003
35. Picking Blueberries, Austerlitz, New York,1957 3/30/2005
36. Starlings In Winter 3/30/2005
37. White Night 3/30/2005
38. Sleeping In The Forest 1/3/2003
39. Music 1/3/2003
40. The Kingfisher 1/13/2003

Comments about Mary Oliver

  • oiuyt (5/16/2019 10:10:00 AM)


    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Steve Kerns (4/25/2019 2:57:00 PM)

    RIP. She certainly is one of the most important English language poets of the late 20th, early 21st century.

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Bill Grace (2/10/2019 7:16:00 PM)

    ... ... ...
    but once,
    years ago,
    in some kind of rapturous mistake,
    the deer did not run away

    but walked toward me
    and touched my hands-
    and I have been, ever since,
    separated from my old, comfortable life

    .... .... ....

    7 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Bill Grace (2/8/2019 10:02:00 PM)

    Her poem The Pinewoods could well be her communication to us from the other side.

    4 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Deborah Kauffman Miller (2/2/2019 12:48:00 PM)

    Looking for a Mary Oliver poem about rainwater seeping into the earth and a stone feeling itself being touched

    3 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
  • Anne Hoiberg (1/26/2019 8:10:00 PM)

    Looking for the poem in which the ocean states that it has work to do.

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Shirley (1/23/2019 12:54:00 PM)

    Looking for a poem that begins 'When death carts me off to the bottomlands'...Shirley

    4 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Sharon (1/21/2019 2:51:00 PM)

    Looking for the poem that includes a fox curled up in a wheel bed, dead, when she finds it and she wonders what it saw/thought as it looked out after it had curled up and before it died. So poignant

    2 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Sandra (1/20/2019 3:08:00 AM)

    Her life lives on in her poetry

    6 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Carol Schantz (1/19/2019 6:26:00 PM)

    How beautiful.

    1 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
Best Poem of Mary Oliver

A Dream Of Trees

There is a thing in me that dreamed of trees,
A quiet house, some green and modest acres
A little way from every troubling town,
A little way from factories, schools, laments.
I would have time, I thought, and time to spare,
With only streams and birds for company.
To build out of my life a few wild stanzas.
And then it came to me, that so was death,
A little way away from everywhere.

There is a thing in me still dreams of trees,
But let it go. Homesick for moderation,
Half the world’s artists shrink or fall away.
If any find solution, let him ...

Read the full of A Dream Of Trees

At Blackwater Pond

At Blackwater Pond the tossed waters have settled
after a night of rain.
I dip my cupped hands. I drink
a long time. It tastes
like stone, leaves, fire. It falls cold
into my body, waking the bones. I hear them
deep inside me, whispering
oh what is that beautiful thing
that just happened?

[Report Error]