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Wild Geese
An anthology, this book's title poem, Wild Geese, opened Staying Alive.
Mary Oliver is one of America's best-loved poets. Her luminous poetry celebrates nature and beauty, love and the spirit, silence and wonder, extending the visionary American tradition of Whitman, Emerson, Frost and Emily Dickinson.
The winner of the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book Award, she has lived for many years on Cape Cod. Her extraordinary poetry is nourished by her intimate knowledge and minute daily observation of the New England coast, its woods and ponds, its birds and animals, plants and trees.
Mary Oliver is hugely popular in the States, where her many books have sold hundreds of thousands of copies. These include four recent collections published in Britain by Bloodaxe Books. Wild Geese is a selection of her best-known poems, including the title-poem and 'The Journey'.
Mary Oliver is one of America's best-loved poets. Her luminous poetry celebrates nature and beauty, love and the spirit, silence and wonder, extending the visionary American tradition of Whitman, Emerson, Frost and Emily Dickinson.
The winner of the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book Award, she has lived for many years on Cape Cod. Her extraordinary poetry is nourished by her intimate knowledge and minute daily observation of the New England coast, its woods and ponds, its birds and animals, plants and trees.
Mary Oliver is hugely popular in the States, where her many books have sold hundreds of thousands of copies. These include four recent collections published in Britain by Bloodaxe Books. Wild Geese is a selection of her best-known poems, including the title-poem and 'The Journey'.
160 pages, Paperback
First published October 28, 2004
About the author
Mary Oliver
95 books7,582 followersMary Jane Oliver was an American poet who won the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize. Her work is inspired by nature, rather than the human world, stemming from her lifelong passion for solitary walks in the wild.
Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 42 reviews
May 20, 2015
This is a wonderful book. With fresh sparse prose and unerring insight, Mary Oliver’s writing conveys the sort of connection with nature that Wordsworth writes about experiencing as a child – except with Oliver the feeling stays with her always. She writes with a haunting brilliance…
The face of a moose is as sad
As the face of Jesus
……………………
….the sea
Which was slashing along as usual,
Shouting and hissing
Toward the future
……………………
…..the hummingbird comes
like a small green angel, to soak
his dark tongue
in happiness –
But not only does she write about nature – entwined with her wonderful observations of animals, birds and the countryside, are insights into the human condition – our experiences of life, death, joy and bitterness….. It’s all there.
If you want to get a flavour of this woman’s marvellous work, here is a link to her reading three of her poems. (It really is a wonderful reading.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XnaP7i...
The face of a moose is as sad
As the face of Jesus
……………………
….the sea
Which was slashing along as usual,
Shouting and hissing
Toward the future
……………………
…..the hummingbird comes
like a small green angel, to soak
his dark tongue
in happiness –
But not only does she write about nature – entwined with her wonderful observations of animals, birds and the countryside, are insights into the human condition – our experiences of life, death, joy and bitterness….. It’s all there.
If you want to get a flavour of this woman’s marvellous work, here is a link to her reading three of her poems. (It really is a wonderful reading.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XnaP7i...
July 27, 2008
This may be my favorite contemporary poet. "Wild geese, harsh and exciting..."
July 7, 2013
A Bible of the beautiful. This collection of poems will make you fall in love with the world,as simple (and as staggering) as that.
Acclaimed American poet Mary Oliver has written here a tour-de-force of tender praise for the flora and fauna around us. Every poem sings with the soul of someone who not only believes in beauty, but pursues it within everything and everywhere with a startling intensity. The world glitters and shines in her poetry. Awe, realisation and appreciation of the world we live in is its theme; the natural world in all its diversity (- from snakes to swans, birds, flowers, waterfalls and dogs) its subject matter; and language as serene as a still lake, as striking as a sunset, as beautiful and fragile as petals unfolding and as quiet and steady as a heartbeat - its modus of astounding.
A good poem offers us a new way of looking at the world, but Mary Oliver's poems will change your way of looking completely. As one reviewer puts it, 'her poetry reads like a blessing'. And that's exactly how we feel while reading it. It puts everything in perspective, as good poetry does, and imbues the reader with the real sense that life is a gift. Its lilting balm of words will put peace to nagging modern problems, trivial testing concerns and any headspun webs of worry, for this, is poetry of the heart, the soul, in all its truth-bursting luminous wonder.
Perhaps she herself describes her style best when remarking in one poem: 'Every day I walk out into the world/to be dazzled, then to be reflective' - this is what she offers us in this collected edition: dazzlement, the significance of it, and by proxy, the means to achieving it.
Extraordinarily hopeful, beautiful, transcendental. 5 stars, every poem, everytime.
Acclaimed American poet Mary Oliver has written here a tour-de-force of tender praise for the flora and fauna around us. Every poem sings with the soul of someone who not only believes in beauty, but pursues it within everything and everywhere with a startling intensity. The world glitters and shines in her poetry. Awe, realisation and appreciation of the world we live in is its theme; the natural world in all its diversity (- from snakes to swans, birds, flowers, waterfalls and dogs) its subject matter; and language as serene as a still lake, as striking as a sunset, as beautiful and fragile as petals unfolding and as quiet and steady as a heartbeat - its modus of astounding.
A good poem offers us a new way of looking at the world, but Mary Oliver's poems will change your way of looking completely. As one reviewer puts it, 'her poetry reads like a blessing'. And that's exactly how we feel while reading it. It puts everything in perspective, as good poetry does, and imbues the reader with the real sense that life is a gift. Its lilting balm of words will put peace to nagging modern problems, trivial testing concerns and any headspun webs of worry, for this, is poetry of the heart, the soul, in all its truth-bursting luminous wonder.
Perhaps she herself describes her style best when remarking in one poem: 'Every day I walk out into the world/to be dazzled, then to be reflective' - this is what she offers us in this collected edition: dazzlement, the significance of it, and by proxy, the means to achieving it.
Extraordinarily hopeful, beautiful, transcendental. 5 stars, every poem, everytime.
February 22, 2024
The books titular poem makes me cry every time I think about it so I'm just going to paste it here in place of a review (of Oliver's impeccably poignant ability to craft contemporary poetry):
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
May 24, 2023
I love Mary Oliver’s writing and reading this outside hit
April 1, 2020
There should be a word for the particular kind of sadness you feel when, a week after reading what you know will become your favourite poem, you find out the woman who wrote it just died.
I’ve never been a massive fan of traditional nature poetry (sorry Wordsworth), being more of a here’s-my-bleeding-heart-on-a-plate-poetry kind of girl. Mary Oliver, though, is the exception to my rule. I just, I don’t know how to describe her writing in a way that would do it justice. Her poetry isn’t complex but it’s beautiful, every description unique but utterly fitting. It’s the type of poetry that’s best appreciated while reading outdoors, but if you’re lazy like me then it can also be best read half leaning out your window, feet on the radiator, tea in hand.
I’ve never been a massive fan of traditional nature poetry (sorry Wordsworth), being more of a here’s-my-bleeding-heart-on-a-plate-poetry kind of girl. Mary Oliver, though, is the exception to my rule. I just, I don’t know how to describe her writing in a way that would do it justice. Her poetry isn’t complex but it’s beautiful, every description unique but utterly fitting. It’s the type of poetry that’s best appreciated while reading outdoors, but if you’re lazy like me then it can also be best read half leaning out your window, feet on the radiator, tea in hand.
December 18, 2020
I've been through so many emotions this week, and it feels like Mary Oliver has walked through each one alongside me. A simply beautiful collection on so many levels. I took this text to a bench by the sea to begin reading, opened it up to "Staying Alive," and felt as if she had peered into my soul. One of her parting admonitions: "You must not ever stop being whimsical" (15).
Also, this is the cutest image and no one can dissuade me:
"had anyone / a piano small enough I think the toad could learn / to play something, a little Mozart maybe, inside / the cool cellar of the sandy hill" (156).
Also, this is the cutest image and no one can dissuade me:
"had anyone / a piano small enough I think the toad could learn / to play something, a little Mozart maybe, inside / the cool cellar of the sandy hill" (156).
November 13, 2022
Delightful and evocative. I've loved some of Mary Oliver's poems for years and wanted to explore more of her collection. Some resonate more than other, but all have respect and a finely observed wonder at the natural world. I particularly enjoyed In Blackwater Woods, Peonies, The Summer Day, The Journey, Wild Geese, The Dipper, Starlings in Winter and Look Again.
"And that I did not give anyone the responsibility for my life. It is mine. I made it. And can do what i want to with it. Live it. Give it back, someday, without bitterness, to the wild, and reedy dunes."
"And that I did not give anyone the responsibility for my life. It is mine. I made it. And can do what i want to with it. Live it. Give it back, someday, without bitterness, to the wild, and reedy dunes."
February 21, 2020
I am very very grateful. I am blessed to live in a world that Mary Oliver wrote about so beautifully. "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with you one wild and precious life?"
September 13, 2024
as i have already said GAH THIS POEM IS SO GOOD
November 22, 2023
Eternally in awe of her words
July 4, 2022
Oliver writes such incomparably magical and deeply moving stories through so little words. :,) One of my all-time favorite pieces is Wild Geese, I need it on my wall or something. She never misses.
August 28, 2024
Say no more… melt away a thousand times
March 15, 2014
There's one poem in this book that I come back to, called Little Owl Who Lives in the Orchard.
His beak could open a bottle,
And his eyes - when he lifts their soft lids -
Go on reading something
Just beyond your shoulder -
Blake, maybe,
Or the Book of Revelation
....
Never mind that he is only a memo
from the offices of fear -
It's not size but surge that tells us
When we're in touch with something real
The best of Mary Oliver is that kind of imaginative, instinctive response to the natural world. It inspires terrific imagery and the satisfying music of the opening stanza.
The worst is that lecturing voice of the last 2 lines which unfortunately is prevalent. Oliver likes to tell rather than show, and despite being about the natural world her poems usually have the words 'you','I' or 'we' in them.
His beak could open a bottle,
And his eyes - when he lifts their soft lids -
Go on reading something
Just beyond your shoulder -
Blake, maybe,
Or the Book of Revelation
....
Never mind that he is only a memo
from the offices of fear -
It's not size but surge that tells us
When we're in touch with something real
The best of Mary Oliver is that kind of imaginative, instinctive response to the natural world. It inspires terrific imagery and the satisfying music of the opening stanza.
The worst is that lecturing voice of the last 2 lines which unfortunately is prevalent. Oliver likes to tell rather than show, and despite being about the natural world her poems usually have the words 'you','I' or 'we' in them.
January 23, 2018
Feels really nice to finish my first poetry book of the year. Will take a few weeks to get a more in depth review up on my blog. For now let me say that Mary Oliver is fast becoming a favourite poet of mine. Her world view is refreshingly in depth yet humble and resonates somewhat with my own. I enjoy the flow and structure of her work and hope to read more in the future.
November 2, 2018
One of the best things I have read in my life!
April 15, 2022
"Once I saw a fox, in an acre of cranberries, leaping and pouncing, leaping and pouncing, leaping and falling back, its forelegs merrily slapping the air as it tried to tap a yellow butterfly with its thin black forefeet, the butterfly fluttering just out of reach all across the deep green gloss and push of the sweet-smelling bog."
"You must not ever stop being whimsical. And you must not, ever, give anyone else the responsibility for your life."
"And now my old dog is dead, and another I had after him, and my parents are dead, and that first world, that old house, is sold and lost, and the books I gathered there lost, or sold - but more books bought, and in another place, board by board and stone by stone, like a house, a true life built, and all because I was steadfast about one or two things: loving foxes, and poems, the blank piece of paper, and my own energy - and mostly the shimmering shoulders of the world that shrug carelessly over the fate of any individual that they may, the better, keep the Niles and the Amazons flowing."
"To live in this world / you must be able / to do three things: / to love what is mortal; / to hold it / against your bones knowing / your own life depends on it; / and, when the time comes to let it go, / to let it go." - In Blackwater Woods
"One day you finally knew / what you had to do, and began, / though the voices around you / kept shouting / their bad advice - / though the whole house / began to tremble / and you felt the old tug / at your ankles. / 'Mend my life!' / each voice cried. / But you didn't stop. / You knew what you had to do, / though the wind pried / with its stiff fingers / at the very foundations, / though their melancholy / was terrible. / It was already late / enough, and a wild night, / and the road full of fallen / branches and stones. / But little by little, / as you left their voices behind, / the stars began to burn / through the sheets of clouds, / and there was a new voice / which you slowly recognized as your own, / that kept you company / as you strode deeper and deeper / into the world, / determined to do / the only thing you could do - / determined to save / the only life you could save." - The Journey
"Do you love this world? / Do you cherish your humble and silky life? Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?" - Peonies
"When I have to die, I would like to die / on a day of rain - / long rain, slow rain, the kind you think will never end." - Marengo
"and there they build their nests/ and lay their pale-blue eggs, / every year, / and every year / the hatchlings wake in the swaying branches, / in the silver baskets, / and love the world. / Is it necessary to say any more?" - Goldfinches
"I feel my boots / trying to leave the ground, / I feel my heart / pumping hard. I want / to think again of dangerous and noble things. / I want to to be light and frolicsome. / I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing, / as though I had wings." - Starlings in Winter
"As for life, / I'm humbled, I'm without words sufficient to say / how it has been hard as flint, / and soft as a spring pond, / both of these / and over and over, / and long pale afternoons besides, / and so many mysteries / beautiful as eggs in a nest, / still unhatched / though warm and watched over / by something I have never seen - / a tree angel, perhaps, / or a ghost of holiness. / Every day I walk out into the world / to be dazzled, then to be reflective. / It suffices, it is all comfort - / along with human love, / dog love, water love, little-serpent love, / sunburst love, or love for that smallest of birds / flying among the scarlet flowers. / There is hardly time to think about / stopping, and lying down at last / to the long afterlife, to the tenderness / yet to come, when / time will brim over the singular pond, and become forever, / and we will pretend to melt away into the leaves. / As for death, / I can't wait to be the hummingbird, / can you?" - Long Afternoon at the Edge of Little Sister Pond
"You must not ever stop being whimsical. And you must not, ever, give anyone else the responsibility for your life."
"And now my old dog is dead, and another I had after him, and my parents are dead, and that first world, that old house, is sold and lost, and the books I gathered there lost, or sold - but more books bought, and in another place, board by board and stone by stone, like a house, a true life built, and all because I was steadfast about one or two things: loving foxes, and poems, the blank piece of paper, and my own energy - and mostly the shimmering shoulders of the world that shrug carelessly over the fate of any individual that they may, the better, keep the Niles and the Amazons flowing."
"To live in this world / you must be able / to do three things: / to love what is mortal; / to hold it / against your bones knowing / your own life depends on it; / and, when the time comes to let it go, / to let it go." - In Blackwater Woods
"One day you finally knew / what you had to do, and began, / though the voices around you / kept shouting / their bad advice - / though the whole house / began to tremble / and you felt the old tug / at your ankles. / 'Mend my life!' / each voice cried. / But you didn't stop. / You knew what you had to do, / though the wind pried / with its stiff fingers / at the very foundations, / though their melancholy / was terrible. / It was already late / enough, and a wild night, / and the road full of fallen / branches and stones. / But little by little, / as you left their voices behind, / the stars began to burn / through the sheets of clouds, / and there was a new voice / which you slowly recognized as your own, / that kept you company / as you strode deeper and deeper / into the world, / determined to do / the only thing you could do - / determined to save / the only life you could save." - The Journey
"Do you love this world? / Do you cherish your humble and silky life? Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?" - Peonies
"When I have to die, I would like to die / on a day of rain - / long rain, slow rain, the kind you think will never end." - Marengo
"and there they build their nests/ and lay their pale-blue eggs, / every year, / and every year / the hatchlings wake in the swaying branches, / in the silver baskets, / and love the world. / Is it necessary to say any more?" - Goldfinches
"I feel my boots / trying to leave the ground, / I feel my heart / pumping hard. I want / to think again of dangerous and noble things. / I want to to be light and frolicsome. / I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing, / as though I had wings." - Starlings in Winter
"As for life, / I'm humbled, I'm without words sufficient to say / how it has been hard as flint, / and soft as a spring pond, / both of these / and over and over, / and long pale afternoons besides, / and so many mysteries / beautiful as eggs in a nest, / still unhatched / though warm and watched over / by something I have never seen - / a tree angel, perhaps, / or a ghost of holiness. / Every day I walk out into the world / to be dazzled, then to be reflective. / It suffices, it is all comfort - / along with human love, / dog love, water love, little-serpent love, / sunburst love, or love for that smallest of birds / flying among the scarlet flowers. / There is hardly time to think about / stopping, and lying down at last / to the long afterlife, to the tenderness / yet to come, when / time will brim over the singular pond, and become forever, / and we will pretend to melt away into the leaves. / As for death, / I can't wait to be the hummingbird, / can you?" - Long Afternoon at the Edge of Little Sister Pond
March 12, 2019
Very rarely do I read a whole anthology of poems from beginning to end, but Wild Geese is an exception. I love Mary Oliver, but, like all poets, I usually find that in her her books, some poems appeal to me and others not quite so much.
But reading these poems by this wonderful lady during this rather dreary winter has been a real treat. I read every poem two or three times in order to savour the language properly, and each poem drew me on to the next through its glorious descriptions and celebrations of the natural world.
Whoever put this anthology together has done it so well. Sadly, you can't buy it over here any more, but if you could I would give it to everyone as a gift.
But reading these poems by this wonderful lady during this rather dreary winter has been a real treat. I read every poem two or three times in order to savour the language properly, and each poem drew me on to the next through its glorious descriptions and celebrations of the natural world.
Whoever put this anthology together has done it so well. Sadly, you can't buy it over here any more, but if you could I would give it to everyone as a gift.
November 5, 2020
Do you love this world? Do you cherish your humble and silky life? Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?
Wild Geese is like going for a long philosophical nature walk while you are curled up by the fire. Mary Oliver forces you to ponder the small and big questions life offers. She makes you stop and carefully examine the snail you passed on your walk, she makes you want to lay in a field and let the flowers grow over you for an afternoon. I will continue to come back to this book and I cannot recommend it enough.
Go outside, touch the earth with bare skin, rejoice in the little things and then come back to read more Mary Oliver 🌻✨
Wild Geese is like going for a long philosophical nature walk while you are curled up by the fire. Mary Oliver forces you to ponder the small and big questions life offers. She makes you stop and carefully examine the snail you passed on your walk, she makes you want to lay in a field and let the flowers grow over you for an afternoon. I will continue to come back to this book and I cannot recommend it enough.
Go outside, touch the earth with bare skin, rejoice in the little things and then come back to read more Mary Oliver 🌻✨
March 11, 2024
FULL REVIEW ON MY WEBSITE
https://thebookcornerchronicles.com/2...
The writing style was amazing it really sucked me into it and this happens really rarely especially with poems. And the old English really also set the mood for the poem which I also loved.
The plot in this one was good and it sort of reminded me of Jordan Peterson which im a huge fan of. And because of that I giving this poem extra points for.
https://thebookcornerchronicles.com/2...
The writing style was amazing it really sucked me into it and this happens really rarely especially with poems. And the old English really also set the mood for the poem which I also loved.
The plot in this one was good and it sort of reminded me of Jordan Peterson which im a huge fan of. And because of that I giving this poem extra points for.
May 6, 2021
This is such a lovely collection of poems, all centring around the nature the author bursts with adoration for. There’s a lot of simple wisdom in these pages, and as the first poetry I’ve read in some time is was blissful diving into the pages
July 21, 2023
"You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine."
December 10, 2023
These works are absolutely stunning. They are incredibly vivid and put you right there with her in the middle of the forest, by the lake, in a field, staring into an owls eyes. This is now my favorite poetry book in my collection. How lucky we are that these poems exist!!
September 15, 2024
“You do not have to be good
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
Love what it loves.”
Mary Oliver you will always be great.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
Love what it loves.”
Mary Oliver you will always be great.
November 2, 2017
I didn't like all of these poems but the ones I did I really loved, so beautiful beyond words.
May 5, 2021
Mary Oliver is perfect, as always. Her poetry is some of the most earthly, joyful, intimate, and comforting work in the entire world.
January 23, 2022
Wild Geese is a kind of poem that has the potential to raise the dead and make plants grow even on Mars.
May 1, 2022
Wonderful poem
May 5, 2023
Very pleasant. Nothing wild but good reflective calm poetry. Thoughtful as Pessoa, romantic as Blake. And I like those two.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 42 reviews