Mary Oliver reads from A Thousand Mornings 

Where has she been all my life? I am age 64, and I LOVE Her! She is hilarious, and so beautifully a writer, which warms my heart and makes me SMILE again.

I fall asleep to this recording about three times a week. Thank you for sharing, and endless thanks to Mary Oliver for assuaging my anxieties when I can’t sleep.

From A Thousand Mornings: 1:26 Percy 2:42 I Go Down to the Shore 3:35 I Have Decided 4:34 The Way of the World 5:27 The Mockingbird 7:41 Hum Hum 11:33 Hurricane 13:26 After I Fall Down the Stairs at the Golden Temple 13:57 Three Things to Remember Her older poems: 14:36 Wild Geese 16:10 The Summer Day 17:55 The Journey 19:45 Tecumseh 22:08 When I Am Among the Trees From A Thousand Mornings (again): 24:08 On Traveling to Beautiful Places 25:25 Tides Her older poems (again): 26:48 Blue Iris 28:20 Meadowlark Sings, And I Greet Him In Return 29:32 The Man Who has Many Answers 30:01 Mornings at Blackwater From A Thousand Mornings: 32:15 For I Will Consider My Dog Percy 35:30 The First Time Percy Came Back 36:39 Life Story 39:38 White Heron Rises Over Blackwater 40:50 Little Dog’s Rhapsody in the Night

Just like trees, your poems save me, daily. Thank you, Mary.

Drove around LA for 30 minutes, listening to the second half and sobbing. What a life's work, what gifts

My favorite poet. I seem to find one of her poems just when I need them. Thank you Mary, for your lovely words and the light and hope you have left in my life.

Thank you for letting us hear her read her poems. Such a treasure! May she continue to write poetry wherever she is.

I never read or heard your poetry until now. It's so beautiful. It made my heart ache with its beauty and insight. It made me wish I had known of you before, for the world would have felt lovelier with you in it. Thank you to you in Heaven, Mary. You have touched my heart.

What an absolute gift for the grieving. Thank you.

She is so hilarious! I have tears from laughing throughout her reading. My first time watching and I love her 😍

She’s easily my favorite poet and I’d never heard her voice until now

Mary is an extraordinary poet! I love her book "The Songs of Dogs" - What a gift she is to us!

"Wild Geese" - the antidote to both of the everythings. Thank you dear Mary Oliver.

Humble, humorous, genius poet. Mary. My forever muse, now one with nature, which she revered with such emotionally accessible eloquence ...♡

This audience. Occasional applause for a life of writing? Every poem is worthy. Clap, say your appreciation.

I’m super happy to be able to listen to Mary Oliver, one of my very favorite poet♥️. Lol she is funny 🥰🥰🥰

Though we may be sad that she is no longer with us, she continues to show us her old truth, her old love, her old sadness, her old delights, and the depth of her old thoughts; the heavens are rejoicing to have her and continue to laugh and cry with her, to enjoy her new love, her new sadness, her new delight and the meaningful depth of her new thoughts.

Such honesty intertwined with such peace and acceptance.

She was such a gift to this world

Thank you, Mary Oliver for leaving us your beautiful poetry. Godspeed.

What a joyful thing it is to hear Mary read her own delightfully beautiful poems! 💓

I’ve just found her and she’s changed my life

This is free therapy for me. What a gift. Thank you.

Mary Oliver had me at 'I never apologise'!

Dearest Mary my heart bursts into praise and gratitude through the grief

Grateful to have just now found this beautiful woman and heard her eloquent words. Thank you!

RIP dearest Mary.

I thank her and the world that made her for such moments of beauty and clarity preserved in her words

Dearest Mary Oliver, what a gift to share from which the heart expands.

One of my favourite poets. Thank you so much for sharing these.

I miss this energy every day.

Forever in our hearts

Thank you Mary, for your poetry is so uplifting with a touch of wonderful humor ..

walking in her words finding nature and insights new roads to travel

Thankful for sharing the genius of Mary Oliver. 💐

I have just discovered this poet and it is lovely!!

감사해요 메리올리버 🙏🏻

Where are you, Mary? This morning I stood at the edge of the lake, now slushy with February's moody thaw. The wild geese were already there of course. And as I attempted to apply a zen lens to my life and seek to alter not people or circumstances but the way I see them and how I reply, it occurs to me that there are no answers. Not really. There is only the sitting still. The process..the journey and those concepts which I made complicated for so damn long. There is only one energy. One life. And as you queried; 'What do you plan to do with it?' Oh Mary. I have so many plans. And dreams, frustrated. And so often feel paralyzed and inept. What do you want..and what do you have? I envision you asking. I want what I already have. I have this life. This day. I have the smiles of my reedy toddler grandson. He is growing into all his curiosity and questions, too. And I have the juiciness of the gurgling newer boy; a little apple dumpling of a human. I have this cup of coffee, morning elixir clutched in my sleepy hand. I have the lyrical gift of Joni on constant rotation, providing a soundtrack for every feeling. I have two chubby gray cats, who provide soul-healing- who show me every day how to lazily lounge around in the sunny spots, and purr. I have books to read, and poems to write. And nature. Nature gives to us all, and asks no questions. I suspect that is why you revered it so. Mary, when you transitioned to the other side, it was if the cornucopia of your mind and heart fell off a ledge and spilled out. And I am like a hungry bird, digesting your every word. I have the twin gifts of inspiration and interest. May I share them as freely as you did, and still do. I have thankfulness to no longer seek the lying solace of drink. I have the gift of words, and the ability to finally clearly think. Where are you flying to today, Mary? Or, more likely, are you just meandering on the edge of a mossy marsh somewhere... scribbling in your worn, tiny notebook, penning paens to bullfrogs and that which leaps, crawls, and takes flight. Are you smiling your sly grin like you do ~ as the morning mist kisses you? I think you are. 2/8/19

Thank you for publishing this today!

What a joy seeing and hearing your poems even though your physical being is not with us. Now when I read your book, I can hear your voice and be with you; how lovely, thank you 🙏

it’s so nice to hear her voice.

Universal thinking for all who hear that prayer.

thank you.

This video is a real treasure

Lovely to see this. Thanks so much for sharing!

Beautiful poems

This is just perfect. Thank you

💕nice video, thanks for sharing👍

Poetry is so profound 🥲 how she reclaims her soul ❤

This is a treasure. Thank you!

Thank you thank you thank you for this

Love each one, Betsey

So Craft so Skilled can smell it touch it feel it bc her skill is Common for all. Love this.

Wonderful.

Such a generous gift.🙏🏽

Gracias.

Hearing her for the first time, I was surprised and delighted by the humor. Her poems seem so serious.

I read the biography of Tecumseh. He banned alcohol because it weakend his people, .he started an alphabet in his own language hoping all tribes could have the same language. He worked tirelessly to unite the tribes of southeast. The tribes of course were told any land west of the Ohio River would be theirs in perpetuity.

So beautiful, Mary Oliver.

A wonder! Thanks poetess

That reading of wild geese... Shivers!

Thank you, Mary Oliver.

I like the ‘old’ works

Love your beautiful poems

After hearing you l will get a book or two of your poems. I had the great opportunity to hear Robert Frost read his poems at Tufts. University when I was 13. He signed my book and I still have it.

This women has my Deceased mother's voice. She gave me goosebumps just hearing her. Love it.

She is so Cool!

"What is it you plan to do woth your one wild precious life?" Robert Frost one foot further

Someone must have told her the story of my 21st year, and then she wrote "The Journey". Sometimes I wonder how I would be different if it all hadn't been so darn hard.

🙏

Very much enjoyed your poems and reading. Your unique imagery engaged me throughout. I, too, am a poet ( and also a fiction story writer which I’ll elaborate shortly but for now let me say I write mostly Japanese format poems i.e. haiku , senryu, tanka/kyoka, haibun etc. I hope you don’t mind me sharing a Tanka and a haiku dedicated to Matshuo Bashō’s frog with added insightful commentary by the late AHA founder and poet Jane Reichhold who considered my haiku among her 10 favorite haiku of all time! What an honor. Here’s the Bashō poem with Jane Reichhold’ insightful insightful commentary: Bashō’s frog four hundred years of ripples At first the idea of picking only 10 of my favorite haiku seemed a rather daunting task. How could I review all the haiku I have read in my life and decide that there were only 10 that were outstanding? Then realized I was already getting a steady stream of excellent haiku day by day through the AHA forum. The puns and write-offs based on Basho's most famous haiku are so numerous I would have said that nothing new could be said with this method, but here Al Fogel proved me wrong. Perhaps part of my delight in this haiku lies in the fact that I agree with him. Here he is saying one thing about realism-ripples are on a pond after a frog jumps in, but because it refers back to Basho and his famous haiku, he is also saying something about the haiku and authors who have followed him. We, and our work, are just ripples while Basho holds the honor of inventing the idea of the sound of a frog leaping is the sound of water As haiku spreads around the world, making ripples in more and larger ponds, its ripples are wider-including us all. But his last word reminds us that we are ripples and our lives ephemeral. It will be the frogs that will remain. ~~ Now the tanka: returning home from a Jackson Pollock exhibition I smear paint on my face and turn into art ~~ Finally, the fictional story that I alluded to earlier. It not only should appeal to Afro-Americans but all individual and groups that experience racial discrimination. It is based on a true incident that took place in the 1950s when racial prejudice was rampant. My story has an unexpected heartwarming ending that coincides with my own belief akin to Dr Martin Luther King’s in a non-violent approach and resolution to racial injustice Titled “ Eloise , Edna And The Chicken Coop” ELOISE, EDNA & THE CHICKEN COOP There was once a Black lady named Eloise who inherited from her grandmother a parcel of land in the suburbs of Compton California at a time when there was strong racial prejudice against women of color-especially those Black women who owned property in predominately white neighborhoods. It happened there lived adjacent to Eloise’s land a white woman named Edna who did not like the fact that this Black woman owned land next to hers. Eloise would try to be friendly because she believed Jesus when He said “Love Thy Neighbor” and to Eloise that meant even if your neighbor was unfriendly. But whenever Eloise saw Edna, Edna would turn her back in disdain. In fact, ever since her husband died a decade ago, Edna became mean and unfriendly to everyone in the neighborhood. But to Eloise, she was so hateful and full of animosity that one night when all the lights in Eloise home were off Edna went to her own backyard where she kept her chicken coop and gathered up all the manure and dumped it on Eloise land and upon her tomatoes and her greens and everything she was growing, in an attempt to destroy it. And when Eloise realized the next morning that there was all this manure, instead of becoming angry, she decided to rake and mix it in with the soil and use it as fertilizer. Every night Edna would dump the manure from her chicken coop litter box and Eloise would get up in the morning and turn it over and mix it. This went on for almost a month until one morning Eloise noticed there was no manure in her yard. Then one of the neighbors informed Eloise that Edna had fallen ill. But because Edna was so mean and unfriendly , no one came to see her when she was sick. But when Eloise heard about Edna’s condition she picked the best flowers from her garden, walked to Edna’s house , knocked on her front door and when Edna opened the door, she was in complete shock that this Black Woman who she had been so cruel to, would be the only neighbor to visit her and bring flowers. Edna was deeply moved by Eloise kindness. Then Eloise handed the flowers to Edna who said, “These are the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen! Where’d you get them?” Eloise replied, “You helped me make them, Edna, because when you were dumping in my yard, I decided to plant some roses and use your manure as fertilizer.“ This genuine act of kindness opened the floodgate of Edna’s heart that had been closed for so long. “When I’m feeling better, I would love to have you over for tea,” Edna told Eloise. “Thank you, “ Edna replied, assuring her she would come. And then added, “I will pray for your speedy recovery every night.” And with those words Eloise departed. It’s amazing what can blossom from manure. There are some who allow manure to fall on them and do nothing. But then there are others-like Eloise -who “turn the other cheek” when abused or in this case “turn over the soil” to make something new like those bevy of beautiful red roses that opened a white woman’s heart. ~~ -All love in isolation from Miami Beach, Florida, -Al

Reflection of that agless love for familiar seasons and self known reasons

Brief Bio: I’m Al Fogel born in 1945 and at an early age began writing poems. In 1962 I was introduced to a neighbor who just returned from Avatar Meher Baba’s “ East west” gathering and handed me a book titled “The Everything and the Nothing” that included brief but powerful passages by Meher Baba that touched me deeply and i became a “ Baba Lover” I continued writing poems and in 2010 while on Jane Reichhold’s AHA website workshopping poems I befriended a Chinese man who helped me perfect my Senryu and Haibun. Subsequently I am now considered one of the nations leading authorities on Tanka , Senryu, and Haibun. Here are some examples of each of my specialties senryu ~ dentist chair the hygienist removes my Bluetooth ~ Internet argument all his words in CAPS hers in EMOTICONS ~ after the divorce he spends more time at the dollar store ~ damsel in distress clarke kent still searching for a phone booth ~ cauliflower ears once a contender now boxing vegetables ~ under the influence - moonshine ~ Audubon sale all variety of seeds. . . early birds welcome ~ Buddhist fortune cookie the unfolded paper reads “ better luck next birth!” ~ sudden downpour. . . the adults run for shelter ** as you can see, senryu is usually humorous, but it can also be serious. For example, the following two of mine are horrific and heartbreaking ( dealing with the Holocaust): ~ cattle cars between the slats human eyes ~ stutthof - the stench of burnt hair from the chimneys ~ Tanka ( I already posted the Jackson Pollock one about painting his face but here’s another Tanka ~ Here is another Tanka: thrift store purchase inside the leather jacket a tarnished half-heart ~ Haibuns The Mathematics of Retribution “Karma is i fathomable,” I inform her It’s late and our conversation turns heavy “ Seems simple to me, “my girlfriend responds. “If I murder you, then it’s reasonable that I will be murdered in this or another life to balance the ledger.” “ Not necessarily so” I’m quick to rejoin. “What if you murdered me in this life because I murdered you in a prior life karmic debts and dues are now equalized.” “But what if I get caught and I go to jail for life. Where’s the equal payback in that?” “As I said, karma is unfathomable.” We continue discussing reincarnation and then add the possibilities of “group karma” to the mix Finally, at about midnight, we fall asleep Stutthof - the stench of burnt hair from the chimneys ~~ Mama There were days when I pretended to be too sick to go to school - - just for mamas loving embrace -her arms the heat of home Even with the onset of dementia, her cheerfulness was so contagious it was a joy being around her despite the illness. She made everyone laugh with her spontaneous unpredictable behavior. nursing home bumper wheelchair her favorite pastime Once a week I would whisk her away from the assisted-living facility and we would spend several hours together -grabbing a meal or frequenting some of her favorite second-hand stores where she loved to shop and donate clothes. When we drove to her favorite thrift in November, her dementia worsened. thrift store the dress mama donated she wants to buy On a cold December morn mama passed. The funeral was simple. There was a light drizzle as the family gathered at the gravesite. One by one, with eyes full of rain, we said our last goodbyes. autumn twilight - oh mama tuck me under hug me one more time ~ ‘Round Midnight It was a huge ballroom on the top floor of a building on Broadway --an important midtown crossroads in the heart of the Great White Way. My uncle still talks with reverence about how -in his heyday -he would travel by rail to the corner of Lenox and walk inside to the beat of jungle music. Who knew what to expect? One night you might be listening with rapt attention to Theloneous Monk and Dizzy Gillespie the godfathers of bebop in their signature beret caps, or the Nicholas Brothers flashing their wild acrobatic spins and splits, or enchanted by the sweet taste of Brown Sugar -with Bojangles out front. And when the Bird was in flight, even the moon was not high enough. But in 1940 the ballroom closed its doors to make way for a commercial housing development and another kind of night. new Harlem the a-train replaced by the bullet ~ Atlantic City New Jersey I had just graduated from high school I remember stopping for saltwater taffy -as evening journeyed slowly into night. Nearing curfew, we sat on a protruded sandy enclave--holding hands, looking out at the ocean, not saying much. In the distance the lights from an ocean liner flickered as the night kept coming on in... first “french kiss” under the boardwalk “over the moon!” ~~ All love, Al

💜

I find it strange to have never know of Mary or her art until just now only because of this funny modern media or tik tok and it’s pretty edits being moved to ours she her works for myslef

There is power in the waves and movements of the tides good graves. . . The magical magnet pull of the moon reflecting likenesses of passing age. . .

In the water there are the stones flown over

❤❤❤

22:02 When I am among the trees …

Wah

Only Mary can read her poems as they should be read. She has a calming influence strong enough to scare Satan . Thank you my God ,for giving us Mary ...you knew we needed her 🤍

Cheryl ..

Our dogs and pets an extension of us. . . A great responsibility are they not dependant on us as are we

Your life has been a gift to us all. You are dearly missed, and now you rest is the deep silence while we cry.

Anyone know where I can find her reading "When Death Comes"?

i have listened to this an irresponsible amount of times

LOVe=== Grace Paley.

Contrasts of gray pale shadows

What book is "When I am among the trees" from?

Can anyone explain a prose poem?

There is a beautiful understanding of that is the instrument of and mercies of 🧬 life a twisted lattice to around and of the fats of our wobbly cracked crawling gray clay to be folded in to the core

22:02

Yhe scents of known yesteryears and then

If we meet him we will know him he will still be so angry

I grieve her death as I celebrate her life! E. Murphy

The folding in of the plastic flow. . . Many worms and ways

Nhi

Wild dogs in the wild night

🐻 🐧

Naturally who is its I