tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86619636220256721882024-03-13T07:02:02.264-04:00Dear MaryA Blog of Tributes and Testimonials for Mary Oliver's workJulie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.comBlogger150125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-76199927094805590292013-09-27T17:49:00.003-04:002013-09-27T17:50:36.478-04:00AugustMary Oliver's poem "August" is on The Writer's Almanac today. <a href="http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2013/09/27" target="_blank">Click here to read the poem</a>.Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-20596621930000771852013-05-09T09:11:00.001-04:002013-05-09T09:11:10.949-04:00Breakage<a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poem/31131" target="_blank">Click here to read "Breakage"</a> by Mary Oliver which appeared in <i>Poetry </i>(August 2003).<br />
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<br />Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-7618637224075975512012-06-04T07:00:00.000-04:002012-06-04T07:00:01.604-04:00Thank you for your words<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dear Reader,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Submissions are now closed for this blog. Thank you to the many readers of Oliver's work who have sent their notes and made this site possible. <span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">We, too, are grateful for Oliver's work, which has graced our lives.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">All best,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Julie Brooks Barbour and Julie L. Moore</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Editors</span>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-28603654524308977692012-06-03T07:00:00.000-04:002012-06-03T07:00:00.826-04:00The Sparkling Dance<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dear Mary,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I want to say that I read your words, about loving the world and <span class="yshortcuts cs4-visible" id="lw_1337424671_0" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(54, 99, 136); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 2px; cursor: pointer;">gratitude</span>, about joyful days and good rain, and morning light and chats. I see the good in love and the sparkling dance for the world that you reveal and encourage. I sense your joy at birds in thorn thick bushes, always singing. I have dared to be happy in a pure white moment, and always start the day in happiness and kindness. I live on a good patch of this green earth, and know now that everything has his reasons, and our task is to love what is lovely. I want to say that I love your words filled with gratitude and magical places. I love your cool and beautiful words, when said right allows the heart to bear it. And it does. Stand wherever you are, Mary Oliver, feel the rain rising, and be blessed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Peter Schramm</span></div>
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<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-63629976981476714222012-06-02T07:00:00.000-04:002012-06-02T07:00:00.208-04:00A Solid Path<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dear Mary,</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thank you for each nurturing "nature bite" I take from your evocative poems. They swell my soul.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thank you especially for "The Journey." That poem is frequently shared during 12 step recovery groups for women finding their way out from under abusive relationships. In my case, it was after the traumatic discovery of my spouse's betrayals. Initially, my only concern was how to help him, thinking that healing him would save and heal my family. Your poem, The Journey, opened my eyes and started me on a solid path of recovery and rebirth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thank you from the bottom of my healing heart. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Judy Whelley</span></div>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-15903918337738501032012-06-01T07:00:00.000-04:002012-06-01T11:34:54.484-04:00Whenever I See A Turtle<br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Dear Mary,</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’m a Vermont poet. I love your poetry and have a number of your books. Your “Turtle” poem in <i>House of Light</i> is one of my favorites.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I have written this poem for you.</span></span><span style="color: black;"></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Whenever I See a Turtle</span></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> —for Mary Oliver</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Whenever I see a turtle</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’m reminded to slow down.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">What’s the rush? True friends will wait,<br />will understand, will help.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Miss. Harris, my junior high math teacher,<br />frequently said to the class (or was it just to me?):</span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Patience is a virtue</span></span></i>.</div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">It’s funny how you remember things like that,<br />several decades later.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Turtles are assuredly patient. They like<br />sitting on a rock as they soak in the sun.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">You never see them sprinting across a street.<br />Perhaps they are hopeful that a good Samaritan<br />will give them a helping hand<br />and bring them to safety.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I say, <i>Forget the eye of the tiger</i>. We should pay<br />closer attention to the eye of the turtle.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> Jerry Johnson</span></span></div>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-71254477470250395652012-05-31T07:00:00.000-04:002012-06-01T11:35:16.443-04:00Your Words<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Your words have
mattered. <span style="background-color: white;">Thank you so much.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Namaste.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Maryanne Stahl</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-51206833745758658662012-05-30T07:00:00.000-04:002012-05-30T07:00:11.289-04:00When I Need a Push to Wake Up<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dear Mary,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It was eight years ago that a friend introduced me to "Wild Geese." I was hooked on the spot and remain an ardent and daily reader of your exquisite, uplifting, and challenging words. I memorize and recite your poems for the sheer joy of it and I begin each day in search of a serious response to your big question: "Here you are, alive. Would you like to make a comment?" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You have opened my eyes to the beauty of the Canadian Prairies, where I live. Your gentle reminders to pay attention, to be astonished, and to feel gratitude have enriched my life beyond any telling of it. At times of sadness, your words bring comfort, when I need a push to wake up, your words do that. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A particular thrill is to commit a favourite poem to memory, with patience and care so that there settles in my mind a perfect copy of a Mary Oliver creation - every word, dash and comma in its place. Just as you intended.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">With every good wish for a full recovery,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Denise Ommanney</span></div>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-80701921239002425692012-05-29T07:00:00.000-04:002012-05-31T10:18:57.080-04:00No Flame, but Word<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dear Mary,</span><br />
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<span id="yui_3_2_0_5_1337547784233559" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: inherit;">No flame, but word. No hesitation, but wish.<br />Maybe false spoken because of foreign tongue.<br />A friend of mine wishes you well, so do I.<br />Your inspiration leads to thanks, so I bow mine.<br /><br />Don't know you, just your words. But even though<br />I feel a kind soul, I want to keep fighting.<br />Please hear the weird sound of my imagination.<br /><br />The wild tippering feet of the wolves guarding your ground.<br />The nervous flight of the hawks, watching the sky.<br />The calm grind of the mole, searching the deep.<br /><br />Let them be, make them yours, give them names.<br />For those send shall be yours to be.<br />A present of my imagination, inspired by your words.<br /><br />May my words be a mirror for your kindness.<br />May my wishes be a cure for your worst.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sinaris</span></div>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-65221416084406669622012-05-28T07:00:00.000-04:002012-05-28T07:00:00.719-04:00Longing for Home<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dear Mary Oliver,<br /><br />I first learned of you through another luminescent poet, my teacher, Lucille Clifton. She suggested I read some of your poetry. I was a displaced Wisconsinite in New York City and all I could write about were longings for home and the connections I felt to the natural world there. When I first opened "White Pine," I was so happy. Among the bricks and buildings, the sparkling sidewalks and busy streets of my temporary Manhattan landscape, I found comfort. Your poetry has illuminated so many moments in my life. I am grateful for having your company and insight these past 25 years. Connections with friends and students have grown stronger because of the truths you have always bravely spoken. My partner and I also love that your books are always dedicated to Molly Malone Cook. We light candles for you in Madison, Wisconsin and send love and gratitude your way. <br /><br />Thank you for being,<br /><br />Mo O'Connor</span>
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</div>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-22900754307821087032012-05-27T07:00:00.000-04:002012-05-27T07:00:05.100-04:00Showing the Way<br />
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Dear Mary, </div>
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You have been for me such a teacher, showing the way in loving our world and paying deep attention to her beauty. My gratitude is huge. </div>
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So many favourites! I pick up your slim volumes to read a little daily. Today it is "Messenger"<i> </i>and your shouts of joy to the moth, the wren and the sleepy dug-up clam, "telling them all, over and over, how it is that we live forever."</div>
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Thank you for sharing your enormous heart with us all.</div>
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Jennifer Conkie</div>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-48669147725606405272012-05-26T07:00:00.000-04:002012-05-26T07:00:04.650-04:00I Fell Into Your Words<span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dear Mary,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">I discovered you through a New York Times article during a recent summer lost to pneumonia recovery. I fell into your words which captured my love of clouds and water, birds and dogs, God's creation spread before my beloved lake house.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">Through the years I have written various things, but now in my 78th year, you have given me courage to attempt to put something of my head and heart into verse! This has brought me great joy. I am a retired United Methodist pastor, and I pray for your steady recovery... and for your next book. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">Patsy Brundige</span></span>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-59513941644869394532012-05-25T07:00:00.000-04:002012-05-25T07:00:15.184-04:00The Spirit of Your Work Watching Over Us<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">I was your neighbor, so to speak, for seven months
in Provincetown, as a Fine Arts Work Center Fellow. We never met -- it was made
clear to us that we were not to knock on your door -- but I liked to think of
you as near during those months, and of the spirit of your work as watching
over us, of subtly guiding us toward the better, truer answers.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I was working on a novel, but on the side I was
crafting a series of creative-writing textbooks for middle-school and
high-school students. So much of "A Poetry Handbook" was
indispensable for the creation of the poetry sections of those volumes; pages
24-28, your sound breakdown of "Stopping By Woods On A Snowy
Evening," especially, was so wise and penetrating that it remains in my
mind quite closely even now, a year later. I was doing the series for a small
publishing house, our budget for permissions fees very modest, but I had to
include one of your poems, just so the kids could see what it's all about. I
settled on "In Praise of Craziness, of a Certain Kind." I couldn't
think of a better way for a 15-year-old to get a first taste of what poetry
should be.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Thanks for all the impact you have had on so many
lives.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Warm regards and great admiration,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Boris Fishman</span></span></span><o:p></o:p></div>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-19830923836963480862012-05-24T07:00:00.001-04:002012-05-24T07:00:00.702-04:00The Many Different Names We Call Things<span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dear Mary,</span></span><br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hello from the Philippines. I hope this note finds you in good spirits.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I just want you to know that even here, half a world away, your poems have changed lives. Every pond has a little of Blackwater pond in it now; every bird has in it a wild goose always "announcing my place in the family of things." Meaning, I guess, that you've made me-- us, your readers from here-- that much more aware of what poetry can do. A bit more loving of the mortal. And every time I re-read your work, I learn more about patience, about clear-sightedness, and how truly and simply connected we all are, despite distance and the many different names we call things.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_2_0_1_1337424673529659" style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thank you for this, Mary.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Yours,</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Mikael de Lara Co</span></div>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-86000004418701447162012-05-24T07:00:00.000-04:002012-05-24T07:00:09.750-04:00Dance Our Way Home<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">Dear Mary,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">I want to tell you how much your beautiful poetry has touched my life, and my clients. I have a spiritual dance practice for women,"'Dance Our Way Hom"', where a sacred and safe space is created to explore our deeper, more soul-reaching places within for healing and celebration. Your poems have been a part of the inspiration used in these sacred circles of women. Lines like this one from "Wild Geese"- "You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves", is especially perfect for this embodied work. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for being who you are and sharing your gifts with the world. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">Blessings, </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">Erica Ross</span> </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></span>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-88862752575529996152012-05-23T07:00:00.000-04:002012-05-23T07:00:10.073-04:00Your Words Spoke Directly to the Deepest Part of Me<span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dear Mary,</span></span><br />
<div id="yui_3_2_0_12_1337424673529566" style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_2_0_12_1337424673529434" style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #454545;">Four volumes of yo</span>ur <span class="yshortcuts cs4-visible" id="lw_1337424904_0" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(54, 99, 136); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 2px; cursor: pointer;">poetry</span> sit <span style="color: #454545;">on my desk along with a few other writers whose work inspires me and opens up my heart.</span></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_2_0_12_1337424673529563" style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_2_0_12_1337424673529561" style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I came to know your poetry only in the last few years. I was at a writer's conference in Taos, NM with Natalie Goldberg. I was talking with a fellow writer and she told me about you. She gave me a volume of your poetry to read. I took it to my room and read through most of it that night. It was as though you had known me all my life and your words spoke directly to the deepest part of me. </span></div>
<div id="yui_3_2_0_12_1337424673529561" style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_2_0_12_1337424673529557" style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Two of your poems that impacted me are "The Journey," which I use a quote from on my website home page. Another is "When Death Comes":</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"When it's over, I want to say: all my life</span></div>
<div id="yui_3_2_0_12_1337424673529548" style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was a bride married to amazement.</span></div>
<div id="yui_3_2_0_12_1337424673529585" style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span id="yui_3_2_0_12_1337424673529584"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I was the bridegroom taking the world into my arms. </span></span></div>
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<div id="yui_3_2_0_12_1337424673529600" style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">When it's over, I don't want to wonder</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">if I have made of my life something particular, and real.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened, </span></div>
<div id="yui_3_2_0_12_1337424673529598" style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">or full of argument</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_2_0_12_1337424673529596" style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I don't want to end up simply having visited this world."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_2_0_12_1337424673529591" style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thank you for choosing the simple life that has allowed you the time and inspiration to produce so much beauty. Your poetry will always be beloved. I will always hold you in my heart, your words timeless reminders to live my life to the fullest.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #330033; font-family: inherit;"><b>Paula Todd King</b></span></div>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-38522823007162811012012-05-22T07:00:00.000-04:002012-05-22T07:00:06.913-04:00In Black and White<span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dear Mary,</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Whenever my mind seems too cluttered, or my health too fragile; when my emotions are over-bursting with passion; when the world is too dark, or the world is too wonderful to exist; all these times I turn to your poetry. No matter what my situation, you and your senses have already taken it in and placed it simply and skillfully in black and white, so that after reading I can breathe and go on anew. You have time and again cut to the heart of what's what and also taken me away from what's what to what really matters. I have become a better observer, perhaps a slightly better writer, by having the good luck to encounter you, a modern day female poet who has dared to say, "it's OK to be who you must be." Thank you, thank you, thank you for the many deep lessons of human and natural life you've shared so openly, so bravely. I wish I was able to do more than cover you with blessings for courage, optimism, patience and grace as you face life's challenges, now and always.</span></span><br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
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<span class="yiv372453967Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: black;"><span class="yiv372453967Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sharon Willen</span></span></span></div>
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</div>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-44188108227657022022012-05-21T07:00:00.000-04:002012-05-21T07:00:00.087-04:00The Clean, Harsh Beauty Found Out of Doors<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">Dear Mary,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">I am a farmer and a lover of nature. It is my salvation. I spend my days, alone mostly, rapt in the clean, harsh beauty found out of doors. I could never describe the swelling I feel in my soul.. the things I hear in the wind... or feel in the soil ... but you can. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">You articulate so perfectly the great mystery. Your words are a salve. You comfort me and bring to me the very breath of what I love and fear. You find the beauty in the dark and difficult and in the light that surrounds it. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">The first poem I read was Wild Geese and so began the journey.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">Thank you, Mary. I am so blessed to have found your words. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">Sincerely,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">Patty Gentry</span></span>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-69155442457862187292012-05-20T07:00:00.000-04:002012-05-20T07:00:03.609-04:00Artwork by Vernessa Riley Foelix<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Following are images of porcelain disks that use the poems of Mary Oliver.</div>
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Artist: Vernessa Riley Foelix. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MOlK2sWnRjNTiKXgmJR-Lu9mflpm8lyWyiqnxX9VJicPqxN2dosvcfAwqwpYWVGeEt4VhHm_oxQ78HyoG5uFmEOccYlZnNqz-RjaEZQF5eXzp0rHCmQf7t3TrrzfUEL4Y-Ww3xyKOHs/s1600/P1000083.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="94" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MOlK2sWnRjNTiKXgmJR-Lu9mflpm8lyWyiqnxX9VJicPqxN2dosvcfAwqwpYWVGeEt4VhHm_oxQ78HyoG5uFmEOccYlZnNqz-RjaEZQF5eXzp0rHCmQf7t3TrrzfUEL4Y-Ww3xyKOHs/s320/P1000083.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeOd8Hj5OX_JmmDkz1sXeGFZMLmm78nRq39HHODk3yd4N7rMauqXitJVJCPFUNu8mSjFH_bf0m2Him_DLdkEATD9kYwzglGzgMe_q4qdhuUh7yIQi9YeCOB3N_JZS92qzsCQIsLiqOzSA/s1600/P1000084.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="79" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeOd8Hj5OX_JmmDkz1sXeGFZMLmm78nRq39HHODk3yd4N7rMauqXitJVJCPFUNu8mSjFH_bf0m2Him_DLdkEATD9kYwzglGzgMe_q4qdhuUh7yIQi9YeCOB3N_JZS92qzsCQIsLiqOzSA/s320/P1000084.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1wwAtJbh3KKB53HY5XYWQlHcTT6YGf9eQBpblqTZfoTYetK8cR4PjflQhdh752zL6k_4PzS-p_bYdvnzppBMHeYSjxhftD7I_N_ZmggKeq4L1q_HeenX6xjyM5AIUo03QFpmoKssrZhQ/s1600/P1000089.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1wwAtJbh3KKB53HY5XYWQlHcTT6YGf9eQBpblqTZfoTYetK8cR4PjflQhdh752zL6k_4PzS-p_bYdvnzppBMHeYSjxhftD7I_N_ZmggKeq4L1q_HeenX6xjyM5AIUo03QFpmoKssrZhQ/s320/P1000089.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFcM8OaTAchadyC0yTFACKQ3bv-YcE1eNdEbJXZToHk-KJvAKT6p3I8iYYEAfS5nSczEV3ATsXSXDRH7Bv8zORTT4fVXUD9LILL_xYNQkBy7F73CWMXt09UsOguMBMS-MCee947lrdpUk/s1600/Porcelain+Disk+Mary+Oliver+1+saith+the+body.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFcM8OaTAchadyC0yTFACKQ3bv-YcE1eNdEbJXZToHk-KJvAKT6p3I8iYYEAfS5nSczEV3ATsXSXDRH7Bv8zORTT4fVXUD9LILL_xYNQkBy7F73CWMXt09UsOguMBMS-MCee947lrdpUk/s320/Porcelain+Disk+Mary+Oliver+1+saith+the+body.jpeg" width="309" /></a></div>
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<br />Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-49667939681513391462012-05-19T07:00:00.000-04:002012-05-19T07:00:07.420-04:00Deeply Touching Me and So Many Others<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dear Mary,</span></span><br />
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_2_0_1_1336740684348427" style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Like so many others I have been greatly blessed by your poetry. Nearly twenty years ago I was given <i>New and Selected Poems </i>as a Christmas gift, just three months after my wife of 22 years passed. I came to page 10, "When Death Comes", and read it every day for quite a while, almost as a devotional. Ever since, your poetry has continued to feed and nurture my spirit. A years later, when I fell in love again, and joyfully remarried, my wife and I jointly recited "The Ponds" as a part of our wedding ceremony. I am grateful to you for deeply touching me and so many others.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Rob Soley</span></div>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-75651592941896512672012-05-18T07:00:00.000-04:002012-05-18T07:00:09.047-04:00This Soft Animal's Heart<br />
<div aria-label="Message body" class="msg-body inner undoreset" id="yui_3_2_0_8_1336740684348762" role="main" style="background-color: white; color: #454545; margin-bottom: 22px; margin-left: 29px; margin-right: 24px; margin-top: 25px; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: hidden; word-wrap: break-word;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dear Mary,</span></div>
<div id="yui_3_2_0_8_1336740684348771">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Your words validate my instincts as a writer and help me spin into ecstasy. Thank you from the bottom of this soft animal's heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hilary Parker</span></div>
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<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-9059141586824164242012-05-17T07:00:00.000-04:002012-05-19T07:50:05.666-04:00Bless them. Bless the birds.<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dear Mary, </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Your poems first were read to me at my birth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I remember hearing about cherry trees.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Later I found your books on my teacher's shelf.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Grandmother gave me the prize winning one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Bless them. Bless the birds.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Bless the bees.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Bless the cherry trees.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Bless the bears too. And all my mothers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Bless the peaches on Orchard Hill.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Bless the roses, we have an Abraham Darby.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Bless the firs and the oaks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">May they root well and bear fruit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You live on, dear Mary.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In the sea, which has your name.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And in our daughters. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Who are all poets.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Joanna Brook</span></div>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-35931581796736246252012-05-16T07:00:00.001-04:002012-05-16T07:00:08.911-04:00Wind Swings the Bird Nest<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">A Poem For Mary Oliver/ Get Well Soon</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">This cold day <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1336741257_0" style="color: #366388; cursor: pointer;">wind</span> swings</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">the bird nest pocketed in</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">a half cut maple limb. Two years</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">past, a storm of wind and</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">lightning made that limb into</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">a bridge for squirrels and a home</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">for birds.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">The long fingered end barely</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">holds, branch to limb. We all try</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">for solid, I guess, industriously</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">building beliefs on poor </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">assumptions, making faith </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">on the branches we can see.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Lives outside know the</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">brutality of natures’ quick</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">decisions and give fear</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">a place. A nest is gathered</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">sticks planted deliberately </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">in a lattice work of strength.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Shaken but holding in a bitter</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">wind and a balcony to see</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">the first unfurling of Spring</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">maple leaves. Maybe, I</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">can still learn to build beauty</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">and fear into a future I can hold.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Get well soon, Mary. You have inspired, encouraged and amazed me with your work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Margot Storti-Marron</span></div>
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<br /></div>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-34625579084975380322012-05-16T07:00:00.000-04:002012-05-16T07:00:12.361-04:00A Glimmering Tremor<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">Dear Mary, </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">Along this road of self-compassion your words touch my heart again and again. How many times has this poem found me? I won't begin to count or even recollect them. One impression–enough to start a glimmering tremor, the gentlest ripple beneath the boat to shift its course. Inviting, again and again, to take a seat at the banquet table and truly come home.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">Your words, like stars, guide and remind me to bring my voice, fresh each day, into an always sparkling, harsh and beautifully shifting landscape. May my own voice ring as true as yours, brave and authentic, tugging complexity's mask to reveal my own astonishingly simple and forgiving world. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">With love and every wish for healing,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #454545;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #454545;">Susan J. Preston</span></span>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8661963622025672188.post-6346492578935286562012-05-15T07:00:00.000-04:002012-05-19T07:50:49.902-04:00Learning English<br />
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<span id="yui_3_2_0_8_1336740684348554" style="font-family: inherit;">Dear Mary,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_2_0_8_1336740684348442" style="font-family: inherit;">Because your <span class="yshortcuts cs4-visible" id="lw_1336740733_0" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(54, 99, 136); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 2px; color: #366388; cursor: pointer;">poems</span> are not available in the German language, I've been studying English for five years now. I live in Switzerland. Sitting in my comfortable chair, the "Learners Dyctionary" on my lap and a volume of your poems - and heaven has been installed. Since I've been doing this, I've made steady progress on learning English and joyfully my soul follows the lines. Eventually bought a flight ticket to America. I want to see the landscape, the ocean, the sky, the trees which inspired you to write those wonderful poems.</span><br />
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<span id="yui_3_2_0_8_1336740684348559" style="font-family: inherit;">Love,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Gertrud Strebel</span></div>Julie Brooks Barbourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07165140882508916280noreply@blogger.com0