Theodore Roethke

(1908 - 1963 / Michigan / United States)

Theodore Roethke Poems

1. The Pike 6/24/2015
2. The Shape Of The Fire 3/30/2010
3. The Saginaw Song 3/30/2010
4. The Voice 3/30/2010
5. The Visitant 3/30/2010
6. The Right Thing 3/30/2010
7. The Waking (1948) 1/20/2003
8. Various Quotes From On Poetry And Craft: Selected Prose Of Theodore Roethke 1/20/2003
9. Big Wind 3/30/2010
10. Infirmity 3/30/2010
11. The Storm 1/13/2003
12. The Reckoning 1/3/2003
13. Selections From I Am! Said The Lamb 1/20/2003
14. Open House 3/30/2010
15. Root Cellar 3/30/2010
16. Pickle Belt 1/3/2003
17. The Sloth 1/3/2003
18. The Minimal 1/13/2003
19. Epidermal Macabre 1/3/2003
20. The Waking (1953) 1/20/2003
21. Once More, The Round 1/3/2003
22. The Geranium 1/3/2003
23. She 1/3/2003
24. Cuttings (Later) 1/3/2003
25. Snake 1/3/2003
26. The Far Field 1/3/2003
27. The Meadow Mouse 1/3/2003
28. Night Journey 1/3/2003
29. Dolor 1/3/2003
30. Journey Into The Interior 1/3/2003
31. Child On Top Of A Greenhouse 1/3/2003
32. The Bat 1/3/2003
33. Elegy For Jane 1/3/2003
34. In A Dark Time 1/3/2003
35. I Knew A Woman 1/3/2003
36. My Papa's Waltz 1/3/2003

Comments about Theodore Roethke

  • Wbiro Numi Who? Wbiro Numi Who? (8/5/2017 4:49:00 AM)

    'The Far Field' should be in the short list.

    0 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Sam Smedley (6/10/2015 7:45:00 PM)

    Awesome. Amazing work. This is a treasure that must be kept alive.

  • Stan Petrovich (4/18/2015 5:35:00 PM)

    Roethke is a treasure.

  • Gigi Levin Gigi Levin (9/16/2014 10:20:00 AM)

    Sad that nobody else seems to have noticed this wonderful poet.

Best Poem of Theodore Roethke

My Papa's Waltz

The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother's countenance
Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.

Read the full of My Papa's Waltz

The Waking (1948)

I strolled across
An open field;
The sun was out;
Heat was happy.

This way!This way!
The wren's throat shimmered,
Either to other,
The blossoms sang.

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