Home ⇒ 📌Mary Oliver ⇒ Poem (The spirit likes to dress up…)
Poem (The spirit likes to dress up…)
The spirit
likes to dress up like this:
ten fingers,
ten toes,
Shoulders, and all the rest
at night
in the black branches,
in the morning
In the blue branches
of the world.
It could float, of course,
but would rather
Plumb rough matter.
Airy and shapeless thing,
it needs
the metaphor of the body,
Lime and appetite,
the oceanic fluids;
it needs the body’s world,
instinct
And imagination
and the dark hug of time,
sweetness
and tangibility,
To be understood,
to be more than pure light
that burns
where no one is
So it enters us
in the morning
shines from brute comfort
like a stitch of lightning;
And at night
lights up the deep and wondrous
drownings of the body
like a star.
(2 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
Related poetry:
- Morning Poem Every morning The world Is created. Under the orange Sticks of the sun The heaped Ashes of the night Turn into leaves again And fasten themselves to the high branches – And the ponds appear Like black cloth On which are painted islands Of summer lilies. If it is your nature To be happy You […]...
- Saddest Poem I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars, And the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.” The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights […]...
- The Spirit lasts but in what mode The Spirit lasts but in what mode Below, the Body speaks, But as the Spirit furnishes Apart, it never talks The Music in the Violin Does not emerge alone But Arm in Arm with Touch, yet Touch Alone is not a Tune The Spirit lurks within the Flesh Like Tides within the Sea That make […]...
- The Spirit of Air Coral and clear emerald, And amber from the sea, Lilac-coloured amethyst, Chalcedony; The lovely Spirit of Air Floats on a cloud and doth ride, Clad in the beauties of earth Like a bride. So doth she haunt me; and words Tell but a tithe of the tale. Sings all the sweetness of Spring Even in […]...
- Litany to the Holy Spirit IN the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When I lie within my bed, Sick in heart and sick in head, And with doubts discomforted, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When the house doth sigh and weep, And the world is drown’d in sleep, […]...
- Said Grenfell to my Spirit Said Grenfell to my spirit, “You’ve been writing very free Of the charms of other places, and you don’t remember me. You have claimed another native place and think it’s Nature’s law, Since you never paid a visit to a town you never saw: So you sing of Mudgee Mountains, willowed stream and grassy flat: […]...
- His Litany to the Holy Spirit In the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit comfort me! When I lie within my bed, Sick in heart, and sick in head, And with doubts discomforted, Sweet Spirit comfort me! When the house doth sigh and weep, And the world is drown’d in sleep, […]...
- The Tent Only the stars endome the lonely camp, Only the desert leagues encompass it; Waterless wastes, a wilderness of wit, Embattled Cold, Imagination’s Cramp. Now were the Desolation fain to stamp The congealed Spirit of man into the pit, Save that, unquenchable because unlit, The Love of God burns steady, like a Lamp. It burns! beyond […]...
- The Frost Spirit He comes, – he comes, – the Frost Spirit comes! You may trace his footsteps now On the naked woods and the blasted fields And the brown hill’s withered brow. He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees Where their pleasant green came forth, And the winds, which follow wherever he goes, Have […]...
- The Spirit of Poetry There is a quiet spirit in these woods, That dwells where’er the gentle south-wind blows; Where, underneath the white-thorn, in the glade, The wild flowers bloom, or, kissing the soft air, The leaves above their sunny palms outspread. With what a tender and impassioned voice It fills the nice and delicate ear of thought, When […]...
- Little Summer Poem Touching The Subject Of Faith Every summer I listen and look Under the sun’s brass and even Into the moonlight, but I can’t hear Anything, I can’t see anything Not the pale roots digging down, nor the green stalks muscling up, Nor the leaves Deepening their damp pleats, Nor the tassels making, Nor the shucks, nor the cobs. And still, […]...
- The Spirit Of The Unborn Babe The Spirit of the Unborn Babe peered through the window-pane, Peered through the window-pane that glowed like beacon in the night; For, oh, the sky was desolate and wild with wind and rain; And how the little room was crammed with coziness and light! Except the flirting of the fire there was no sound at […]...
- Million Man March Poem The night has been long, The wound has been deep, The pit has been dark, And the walls have been steep. Under a dead blue sky on a distant beach, I was dragged by my braids just beyond your reach. Your hands were tied, your mouth was bound, You couldn’t even call out my name. […]...
- Spirit whose Work is Done SPIRIT whose work is done! spirit of dreadful hours! Ere, departing, fade from my eyes your forests of bayonets; Spirit of gloomiest fears and doubts, (yet onward ever unfaltering pressing;) Spirit of many a solemn day, and many a savage scene! Electric spirit! That with muttering voice, through the war now closed, like a tireless […]...
- Love Poem Yours is the face that the earth turns to me, Continuous beyond its human features lie The mountain forms that rest against the sky. With your eyes, the reflecting rainbow, the sun’s light Sees me; forest and flower, bird and beast Know and hold me forever in the world’s thought, Creation’s deep untroubled retrospect. When […]...
- The Spirit Medium Poetry, music, I have loved, and yet Because of those new dead That come into my soul and escape Confusion of the bed, Or those begotten or unbegotten Perning in a band, I bend my body to the spade Or grope with a dirty hand. Or those begotten or unbegotten, For I would not recall […]...
- There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left I write the lips of the moon upon her shoulders. In a Temple of silvery farawayness I guard her to rest. For her bed I write a stillness over all the swans of the World. With the morning breath of the snow leopard I Cover her against any hurt. Using the pen of rivers and […]...
- A spirit sped A spirit sped Through spaces of night; And as he sped, he called, “God! God!” He went through valleys Of black death-slime, Ever calling, “God! God!” Their echoes From crevice and cavern Mocked him: “God! God! God!” Fleetly into the plains of space He went, ever calling, “God! God!” Eventually, then, he screamed, Mad in […]...
- Serenata The night soaks itself Along the shore of the river And in Lolita’s breasts The branches die of love. The branches die of love. Naked the night sings Above the bridges of March. Lolita bathes her body With salt water and roses. The branches die of love. The night of anise and silver Shines over […]...
- Sonnet XX: An Evil Spirit An evil spirit, your beauty haunts me still, Wherewith, alas, I have been long possest, Which ceaseth not to tempt me to each ill, Nor gives me once but one poor minute’s rest; In me it speaks, whether I sleep or wake, And when by means to drive it out I try, With greater torments […]...
- Song Of The Spirit Too sweet and too subtle for pen or for tongue In phrases unwritten and measures unsung, As deep and as strange as the sounds of the sea, Is the song that my spirit is singing to me. In the midnight and tempest when forest trees shiver, In the roar of the surf, and the rush […]...
- Idea XX: An evil spirit, your beauty, haunts me still An evil spirit, your beauty, haunts me still, Wherewith, alas, I have been long possess’d, Which ceaseth not to tempt me to each ill, Nor gives me once but one poor minute’s rest. In me it speaks, whether I sleep or wake; And when by means to drive it out I try, With greater torments […]...
- Blue dress i can see through the blue Dress when you stand In the doorway – the light Come indoors softly like A cat between your legs When you walk and The dress flows Over the curved pebble Of your belly into The blue pool my eye Is already there Waiting for the ripple I have the […]...
- An Almost Made Up Poem I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny Blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny They are small, and the fountain is in France Where you wrote me that last letter and I answered and never heard from you again. You used to write insane poems about ANGELS AND GOD, all in upper […]...
- A Spirit Passed Before Me From Job A spirit passed before me: I beheld The face of immortality unveiled – Deep sleep came down on every eye save mine – And there it stood,-all formless-but divine: Along my bones the creeping flesh did quake; And as my damp hair stiffened, thus it spake: “Is man more just than God? Is […]...
- I think the Hemlock likes to stand I think the Hemlock likes to stand Upon a Marge of Snow It suits his own Austerity And satisfies an awe That men, must slake in Wilderness And in the Desert cloy An instinct for the Hoar, the Bald Lapland’s necessity The Hemlock’s nature thrives on cold The Gnash of Northern winds Is sweetest nutriment […]...
- The Red Dress I always saw, I always said If I were grown and free, I’d have a gown of reddest red As fine as you could see, To wear out walking, sleek and slow, Upon a Summer day, And there’d be one to see me so And flip the world away. And he would be a gallant […]...
- Spirit That Form'd This Scene SPIRIT that form’d this scene, These tumbled rock-piles grim and red, These reckless heaven-ambitious peaks, These gorges, turbulent-clear streams, this naked freshness, These formless wild arrays, for reasons of their own, I know thee, savage spirit-we have communed together, Mine too such wild arrays, for reasons of their own; Was’t charged against my chants they […]...
- The Sea Spirit I smile o’er the wrinkled blue Lo! the sea is fair, Smooth as the flow of a maiden’s hair; And the welkin’s light shines through Into mid-sea caverns of beryl hue, And the little waves laugh and the mermaids sing, And the sea is a beautiful, sinuous thing! I scowl in sullen guise The sea […]...
- Half An Hour I never had you, nor will I ever have you I suppose. A few words, an approach As in the bar yesterday, and nothing more. It is, undeniably, a pity. But we who serve Art Sometimes with intensity of mind, and of course only For a short while, we create pleasure Which almost seems real. […]...
- Sonnet 129: Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame Th’ expense of spirit in a waste of shame Is lust in action; and, till action, lust Is perjured, murderous, bloody full of blame, Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust, Enjoyed no sooner but despisèd straight, Past reason hunted, and no sooner had Past reason hated as a swallowed bait On purpose laid to […]...
- Poem (Don’t look…) Don’t look. The world’s about to break. Don’t look. The world’s about to chuck out all its light And stuff us in the chokepit of its dark, That black and fat suffocated place Where we will kill or die or dance or weep Or scream of whine or squeak like mice To renegotiate our starting […]...
- Sonnets CXXIX: Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame Th’ expense of spirit in a waste of shame Is lust in action; and till action, lust Is perjur’d, murd’rous, bloody, full of blame, Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust; Enjoy’d no sooner but despised straight; Past reason hunted; and, no sooner had, Past reason hated, as a swallow’d bait, On purpose laid to […]...
- Fancy Dress Some Brave, awake in you to-night, Knocked at your heart: an eagle’s flight Stirred in the feather on your head. Your wide-set Indian eyes, alight Above high cheek-bones smeared with red, Unveiled cragg’d centuries, and led You, the snared wraith of bygone things – Wild ancestries of trackless Kings – Out of the past… So […]...
- Her spirit rose to such a height Her spirit rose to such a height Her countenance it did inflate Like one that fed on awe. More prudent to assault the dawn Than merit the ethereal scorn That effervesced from her....
- The Satin Dress Needle, needle, dip and dart, Thrusting up and down, Where’s the man could ease a heart Like a satin gown? See the stitches curve and crawl Round the cunning seams- Patterns thin and sweet and small As a lady’s dreams. Wantons go in bright brocade; Brides in organdie; Gingham’s for the plighted maid; Satin’s for […]...
- The Spirit is the Conscious Ear The Spirit is the Conscious Ear. We actually Hear When We inspect that’s audible That is admitted Here For other Services as Sound There hangs a smaller Ear Outside the Castle that Contain The other only Hear...
- The Flesh and the Spirit In secret place where once I stood Close by the Banks of Lacrim flood, I heard two sisters reason on Things that are past and things to come. One Flesh was call’d, who had her eye On worldly wealth and vanity; The other Spirit, who did rear Her thoughts unto a higher sphere. “Sister,” quoth […]...
- In Modern Dress A pair of blackbirds Warring in the roses, One or two poppies Losing their heads, The trampled lawn A battlefield of dolls. Branch by pruned branch, A child has climbed The family tree To queen it over us: We groundlings search The flowering cherry Till we find her face, Its pale prerogative To rule our […]...
- The Dress-Maker A CLOISTERED nun had a lover Dwelling in the neighb’ring town; Both racked their brains to discover How they best their love might crown. The swain to pass the convent-door! No easy matter! Thus they swore, And wished it light. I ne’er knew a nun In such a pass to be outdone: In woman’s clothes […]...
Sonnet V »