Louise Gluck

(22 April 1943 / New York / United States)

Louise Gluck Poems

41. The Garden 1/1/2004
42. The Gold Lily 1/1/2004
43. The Myth Of Innocence 3/21/2015
44. The Past 6/18/2015
45. The Pond 1/1/2004
46. The Racer's Widow 6/24/2015
47. The Red Poppy 1/1/2004
48. The Silver Lily 1/1/2004
49. The Triumph Of Achilles 1/1/2004
50. The Untrustworthy Speaker 1/1/2004
51. The White Lilies 1/1/2004
52. The Wild Iris 1/1/2004
53. Vespers 1/1/2004
54. Widows 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Louise Gluck

The Wild Iris

At the end of my suffering
there was a door.

Hear me out: that which you call death
I remember.

Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting.
Then nothing. The weak sun
flickered over the dry surface.

It is terrible to survive
as consciousness
buried in the dark earth.

Then it was over: that which you fear, being
a soul and unable
to speak, ending abruptly, the stiff earth
bending a little. And what I took to be
birds darting in low shrubs.

You who do not remember
passage from the other world
I tell you I could speak ...

Read the full of The Wild Iris

Circe's Torment

I regret bitterly
The years of loving you in both
Your presence and absence, regret
The law, the vocation
That forbid me to keep you, the sea
A sheet of glass, the sun-bleached
Beauty of the Greek ships: how
Could I have power if
I had no wish

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