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A profound and wonderful book of poetry, Mary oliver can find places inside your heart that you didn’t even know existed
6d ago
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Everyday I randomly flip to a page and use it as my guide for the day. Today was one of my favourites, ‘The Summer Day’.
If you’re a nature mysticism truther like myself, Mary Oliver is right up your alley <3
If you’re a nature mysticism truther like myself, Mary Oliver is right up your alley <3
Apr 15, 2025
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IF YOU HAVE NOT YET GOTTEN INTO MARY OLIVER POETRY I BEG YOU! her poetry encapsulates a deeply maternal and spiritual presence i think everyone could benefit from
May 25, 2025
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i have recently started reading this poetry book by mary oliver and it is sososo beautiful <3 it makes me appreciate life and nature more. the loveliest thing about poetry books is that you don't need to worry about forgetting where you left off!! you can read a few entries and call it a day, and then just pick it back up again when you feel like it!!
one of the poems i love rn:
On Meditating, Sort Of – Mary Oliver Meditation, so I’ve heard, is best accomplished if you entertain a certain strict posture. Frankly, I prefer just to lounge under a tree. So why should I think I could ever be successful?
Some days I fall asleep, or land in that even better place — half-asleep — where the world, spring, summer, autumn, winter — flies through my mind in its hardy ascent and its uncompromising descent.
So I just lie like that, while distance and time reveal their true attitudes: they never heard of me, and never will, or ever need to.
Of course I wake up finally thinking, how wonderful to be who I am, made out of earth and water, my own thoughts, my own fingerprints — all that glorious, temporary stuff.
one of the poems i love rn:
On Meditating, Sort Of – Mary Oliver Meditation, so I’ve heard, is best accomplished if you entertain a certain strict posture. Frankly, I prefer just to lounge under a tree. So why should I think I could ever be successful?
Some days I fall asleep, or land in that even better place — half-asleep — where the world, spring, summer, autumn, winter — flies through my mind in its hardy ascent and its uncompromising descent.
So I just lie like that, while distance and time reveal their true attitudes: they never heard of me, and never will, or ever need to.
Of course I wake up finally thinking, how wonderful to be who I am, made out of earth and water, my own thoughts, my own fingerprints — all that glorious, temporary stuff.
Feb 24, 2025
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