This is our cache of the profile last indexed on Saturday, May 16, 2009. Visit MySpace for updated profile. MySpaceProfiles.org is a search engine that indexes publicly available profile information from MySpace for convenient searching and display. If you are the author of this profile and do not wish to display it here please click here.
 Mary Oliver (Tribute)'s Profile |
|
| Age: | 73 years old |
| Sex: | Female |
| Location: | PROVINCETOWN, Massachusetts |
| Country: |  United States |
| Last Login: | May 16, 2009 (203 days back) |
| I am Here For Friends. | |
About Me |
|
"How often now I just sit, with my elbows on the desk and my hands holding my face bold and upright, and stare into the past." Our World (2007) Thirst Another morning and I wake up with thirst for the goodness I do not have. I walk out to the pond and all the way God has given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord, I was never a quick scholar but sulked and hunched over my books past the hour and the bell; grant me, in your mercy, a little more time. Love for the earth and love for you are having such a long conversation in my heart. Who knows what will finally happen or where I will be sent, yet already I have given a great many things away, expect- ing to be told to pack nothing, except the prayers which, with this thirst, I am slowly learning. Thirst (2006) |
|
My Interests |
|
I'd like to meet:*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 tell it. Meanwhile I bend my heart toward lamentation Where, as the times implore our true involvement, The blades of every crisis point the way. I would it were not so, but so it is. Who ever made music of a mild day? *No Voyage and Other Poems ~ (1963 and 1965) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *Answers If I envy anyone it must be My grandmother in a long ago Green summer, who hurried Between kitchen and orchard on small Uneducated feet, and took easily All shining fruits into her eager hands. That summer I hurried too, wakened To books and music and circling philosophies. I sat in the kitchen sorting through volumes of answers That could not solve the mystery of the trees. My grandmother stood among her kettles and ladles. Smiling, in faulty grammar, She praised my fortune and urged my lofty career. So to please her I studied--but I will remember always How she poured confusion out, how she cooled and labeled All the wild sauces of the brimming year. *The River Styx, Ohio, and Other Poems (1972) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *Night Flight Traveling at thirty thousand feet, we see How much of earth still lies in wilderness, Till terminals occur like miracles To civilize the paralyzing dark. Buckled for landing to a tilting chair, I think: if miracle or accident Should send us on across the upper air, How many miles, or nights, or years to go Before the mind, with its huge ego paling, Before the heart, all expectation spent, Should read the meaning of the scene below? But now already the loved ones gather Under the dome of welcome, as we glide Over the final jutting mountainside, Across the suburbs tangled in their lights, And settled softly on the earth once more Rise in the fierce assumption of our lives- Discarding smoothly, as we disembark, All thoughts that held us wiser for a moment Up there alone, in the impartial dark. *The River Styx, Ohio, and Other Poems (1972) Wild Geese 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. *Dream Work 1986 |
|
My Background and Lifestyle |
|
| MaritalStatus: | Single |
| SexualOrientation: | Gay / Lesbian |
| Hometown: | Provincetown |
| Occupation: | Poet |
My Blog |
|
The Journey |
|
| The Journey One day you finally knewwhat you had to do, and began,though the voices around youkept shoutingtheir bad advice--though the whole housebegan to trembleand you felt the old tugat your an... Posted by on Wed, 06 Aug 2008 15:24:00 GMT |
|
Tags |
|
|
Mary Oliver (Tribute)'s profile has been tagged with the following keywords. Click a tag to search for profiles with the same tags. provincetown massachusetts, true involvement, would have time, eager hands, lesbian female, mary oliver, crisis point, half the world, stanzas, lamentation, laments, thirst, philosophies, elbows, factories, moderation, orchard, grandmother, goodness, many things |
|
