Reviews for A Wild Patience Has Taken Me This Far: Poems, 1978-1981

The average rating for A Wild Patience Has Taken Me This Far: Poems, 1978-1981 based on 2 reviews is 5 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2016-11-06 00:00:00 Ginie Wee "The strongest reason for giving woman all the opportunities for higher education, for the full development of her forces of mind and body... the most enlarged freedom of thought and action a complete emancipation from all the crippling influences of fear- is the solitude and personal responsibility of her own individual life." For a long time, a very long time in fact, my favorite poet was D.H. Lawrence. When I was nineteen, I remember reading the poem 'Medlars and Sorb Apples' and just completely and utterly fell in love with his writing, his way of describing things, his words. (And if you love poetry, actually go read this poem. It's delicious and sinful!) He remained lodged in the number one spot in my heart for over ten years...until reading the poetry of Adrienne Rich. Her strong and intense writing style, mixed lavishly with drop dead gorgeous prose and utterly heartrending emotion just swept me away. And I instantly and forever changed my favorite poet status to Adrienne Rich! ;)

Review # 2 was written on 2008-05-08 00:00:00 Diana F Orhun For Memory Old words: trust fidelity Nothing new yet to take their place. I take leaves, clear the lawn, October grass painfully green beneath the gold and in this silent labor thoughts of you start up I hear your voice: disloyalty betrayal stinging the wires I stuff the old leaves into sacks and still they fall and still I see my work undone One shivering rainswept afternoon and the whole job to be done over I can't know what you know unless you tell me there are gashes in our understandings of this world We came together in a common fury of direction barely mentioning difference (what drew our finest hairs to fire the deep, difficult troughs unvoiced) I fell through a basement railing the first day of school and cut my forehead open-- did i ever tell you? More than forty years and I still remember smelling my own blood like the smell of a new school book And did you ever tell me how your mother called you in from play and from whom? To what? These atoms filmed by ordinary dust that common life we each and all bent out of orbit from to which we must return simply to say this is where I came from this is what I knew The past is not a husk yet change goes on Freedom. It isn't once, to walk out under the Milky Way, feeling the rivers of light, the fields of dark-- freedom is daily, prose-bound, routine remembering. Putting together, inch by inch the starry world. From all the lost collections. 1979