Louise Glück

The Wild Iris

Poems examine the relationship between humans and nature and consider mortality, consciousness, identity, and love

Wild Iris

Maricruz

Fiona

Kristen Thomas

“Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know what despair is; then winter should have meaning for you.”

i wanted to enjoy this more than i did, but i did enjoy it

mira lee

This collection of stunningly beautiful poems encompasses the natural, human, and spiritual realms, and is bound together by the universal themes of time and mortality. With clarity and sureness of craft, Gluck's poetry questions, explores, and finally celebrates the ordeal of being alive.

özün

although it is repetitive… and dull most of the times
i love some parts of it,,
the persistent echoing,
weeding clovers from the flower beds
the early tulips beginning to open
the sound the wind maked stirring a meadow of daisies
beyond, the red sun neither falling or rising
muslin, flicker of silver,heavy jar filled with white peonies
even in august,,the red leaves of the maple falling
and soon the summer is ending
,,,ayrılmış ağacın gölgesine uzanıp filizlenmek,
kendini çiçekler yoncalar ve alıçlar ile karşılaştırmak

Katarina

I could not express how grateful I am to read Glück in this period of time. Her voice is magnificent, true, and haunting. It haunts me.

Kate

So many intricate and stunning poems in here. Some of the poems did fall a little flat or go over my head, but the majority of poems in this collection are exquisite and definitely warrant five stars.

The poems in this collection are written in the language of flowers. Louise Gluck received the Pulitzer Prize for "The Wild Iris" in 1993, and has also received the National Book Critics Award for Poetry and the Poetry Society of America's Melville Kane Award.

Prashant Prasad

the blue iris 
* trillium 
think what i understand already. i woke up ignorant in a forest; 
only a moment ago, i didn’t know my voice
if one were given to me 
would be so full of grief, my sentences 
like cried strung together. 
i didn’t even know i felt grief 
until that word came, until i felt 
rain streaming from me 

* love in moonlight 
sometimes a man or woman forces his despair 
on another person, which is called 
baring the heart, alternately, baring the soul—
meaning for this moment they acquired souls—

* the red poppy
The great thing 
is not having 
a mind. Feelings: 
oh, i have those; they
 govern me
…
What should such glory be
if not a heart?

* the silver lily
after the first cries,
doesn’t joy, like fear, make no sound? 

* the white lilies
Hush, beloved. it doesn’t matter to me
how many summers i live to return: 
this one summer we have entered eternity. 
i felt your two hands 
bury me to release its splendour.

The Wild Iris

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