Read Blackbird and Wolf: Poems by Henri Cole Online

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I don't want words to sever me from reality.I don't want to need them. I want nothingto reveal feeling but feeling--as in freedom,or the knowledge of peace in a realm beyond,or the sound of water poured in a bowl.--from "Gravity and Center" In his sixth collection of poetry, Henri Cole deepens his excavations of autobiography and memory. "I don't want words to sever me froI don't want words to sever me from reality.I don't want to need them. I want nothingto reveal feeling but feeling--as in freedom,or the knowledge of peace in a realm beyond,or the sound of water poured in a bowl.--from "Gravity and Center" In his sixth collection of poetry, Henri Cole deepens his excavations of autobiography and memory. "I don't want words to sever me from reality," he asserts, and these poems--often hovering within the realm of the sonnet--combine a delight in the senses with the rueful, the elegiac, the harrowing. Many confront the human need for love, the highest function of our species. But whether writing about solitude or the desire for unsanctioned love, animals or flowers, the dissolution of his mother's body or war, Cole maintains a style that is neither confessional nor abstract. And in Blackbird and Wolf, he is always opposing disappointment and difficult truths with innocence and wonder....

Title : Blackbird and Wolf: Poems
Author :
Rating :
ISBN : 9780374113797
Format Type : Hardcover
Number of Pages : 59 Pages
Status : Available For Download
Last checked : 21 Minutes ago!

Blackbird and Wolf: Poems Reviews

  • Eunice Moral
    2018-09-19 18:08

    Definitely a favorite!!!

  • Curtis
    2018-10-20 16:27

    Given to me by a friend from work as part of a book-themed Secret Santa exchange.It's been a long time since I've read a book of poetry. I've read the occasional poem here and there, from time to time, but there's a certain enjoyment to simply having the time to dedicate (part of) a morning to slowly going through the book, poem by poem, and thinking about each one.Most of Cole's poems are short, one-page (14-16 line) thoughts. In general, I liked his few longer poems better than the short ones – though I don't know if I can put my finger on precisely why, as the length itself doesn't have anything to do with it, I think. My favorite poem, on a first read through, is "The Erasers." My favorite set of lines, however, is from "Persimmon Tree":Poor Man, kind and apprehensivehe looks at himself but cannot seethe beauty of his free will unlesshe's suffering at the hands of it.My favorite line is from "Twilight": "I want to learn the faith of the indifferent."

  • Sebastian
    2018-10-06 17:37

    “Once, I lived through a bombingand watched the wild and ghastly lightgo out of a soldier’s face.His skin was white as snow on the mountains.Death is nothing compared to the painthat comes before.”from “Persimmon Tree”*“Still, the earth forms, stems flourish,and the time of my life goes on.”from “Dune”*“(…) tawny bees murmuringover them on their way home to sleep and safety,remaking them when nature beats them apart,putting their whole lives into the small stingthat hurts us, but not before changing guminto gold, like poetry, which is stronger than I am and makes me do what it wants.Is there something in earth that makes us resemble them—rising at dawn, the sun flashing scarlet,rubbing together for warmth, going forward—even when the world seems just a heap of broken things?”from “Dune”

  • Emily Crow
    2018-10-15 15:08

    The metaphors and images in these poems seemed kind of weird to me. There was a continuous contrast between the physicality of human existence, a yearning for the purity of the abstract, and an appeal to nature to mediate the two. Which nature cannot do, so the poet is always left dissatisfied. But I felt that he sees nature as an urbanite would, not as it truly is, so the metaphors seemed forced and cumbersome. It's not that these poems were bad so much as that the poet and I obviously perceive the world in very different ways.

  • Nicole Sanglay
    2018-10-01 17:33

    From the poem, Gulls: "and as I swam I saw myself against the skyand against the light, a tiny human knot with eyes,my numb hands and repeated motion, like the gulls aloft,touching the transparent structure of the world,and in that icy, green, silvery frothing,I was straightening all that I had made crooked."

  • Emily Patterson
    2018-09-26 18:15

    This is a collection of jewel-like poems spun close to nature, visceral in their animal longing. Blackbird and Wolf winds biological and emotional inwardness into art, with stark honesty--its landscapes being as vivid as the pain of illusory freedom, of loss. "Dune" is stunning.

  • Jeffrey
    2018-10-18 12:22

    Rich in skill, while at the same time raw and primal, the poems are beautiful, harrowing, enlivening.

  • Tim
    2018-10-05 20:11

    I preferred Middle Earth to this. Nonetheless, Henri Cole's style remains pristine and clear––perhaps even more so than in Middle Earth. Certainly he deserves the prize he just won!

  • Lizy
    2018-10-06 20:09

    I stopped on page 47 of 61. None of the poems made sense to me and the imagery was becoming too gruesome. I've got other books to read.

  • Jessica
    2018-10-03 15:14

    "I can bear to think of Heaven and Hell, where there is no tennis or jam;but I can't bear to think of the trough in my mattressfilled up by another."- The Erasers (excerpt)"Once, in a light-bathed kitchen,naked and blissfully myself, ..."- Bowl of Lilacs (excerpt)"Throughout our affair of eleven years,disappearing into the pleasure-unto-deathacts I recall now as love and, afterward, orbiting through the long, deep sleepsin which memory, motor of everything,reconstituted itself, I cared nothing about life outside the walls of our bedroom."- Self-Portrait with Red Eyes (excerpt)"On the shore, the moon sprinkleslight over everything, like a campfire,and in the green-black night, the tall pineshold their arms out as God held His armsout to say that He was lonely and thatHe was making Himself a man."- Embers (excerpt)Waking from comalike sleep, I saw the poppies, with their limp necks and unregimented beauty.Pause, I thought, say something true: It was night,I wanted to kiss your lips, which remained supple,but all the water in them had been replaced with embalming compound. So I was angry.I loved the poppies, with their wide-open faces,how they carried themselves, beckoning to me instead of pushing away. The way in and the way outare the same, essentially: emotions disrupting thought,proximity to God, the pain of separation.I loved the poppies, with their effortless existence, like grief and fate, but tempered and formalized.Your hair was black and curly; I combed it.- Poppies

  • Jenni
    2018-09-24 18:23

    Good.

  • Josh
    2018-09-29 18:10

    straight poetry here, mildly evolutionary, lots of love and oddness, a book that wins hero status

  • Kirsten Kinnell
    2018-10-16 19:19

    A good deal more lyrical than I'm accustomed to these days. Still, lovely.

  • J. C.
    2018-10-16 19:33

    I'm not really much of a poetry person, but some of the poems were truly wonderful.

  • David Anthony Sam
    2018-10-14 16:35

    A mournful and celebratory collection of poems, with some echoes of Dickinson.