White Egrets: Poems

if you ask me to name my favorite poet, without hestitation i would answer derek walcott. any collection of poems by walcott is reason for a personal celebration, White Egrets no less, and in my enthusiasm i would hope that you find in the poems in this book by mr walcott at least some of the pleasure that i do.when speaking of poetry, there's always talk of the line. one from White Egrets chosen at random:`hide her face in mist and the barred sun shrivel'i remove my finger from the page and look up and see the line is from the poem, Epithalamium: The Rainy Season. an epithalamium is a wedding song, and the poem was written `For Stephanos and Heather', a couple who means nothing to me, but who must be very special to mr walcott for him to dedicate a poem to them. their wedding in a rainy season is captured in the one line i selected at random; the mist become veil and the sun shrivel the appearance as the folds created by the drape of the veil, as well as being an allusion to a shakespearean sonnet. any line by walcott would reveal as many gifts. as a reader i am honored to be recipient of his poems, several of them, like White Egrets, for and in memory of his friends, like the joseph of white egrets, his good friend and fellow nobel laureate holder, joseph brodsky.there's a poem here to president barack obama, Forty Acres, of an engraving:`Out of the turmoil emerges one emblem, an engraving -a young Negro at dawn in straw hat and overalls,an emblem of impossible prophecy: a crowddividing like the furrow which a mule has ploughed,parting for their president; a field of snow-flecked cottonforty acres wide, of crows with predictable omensthat the young ploughman ignores for his unforgottencotton-haired ancestors, ... `not the american ancestors of mr obama, but the ancestors of a more extended culture, and the direct ancestors of his wife and his daughters who are part of a race who claim him, and he has accepted and claimed as his own through the mingled blood of family.and there are other poems of travel, reminiscences, old lovers, aging and the feel of the loss of poetic powers, a trope of old men, real and fictional as prospero, a character from one of walcott's favorite shakespearean plays. his poetry remains grounded in the west indian island of his birth and the british island that gave birth to many of the poets of a tradition, problematic to him, which he's honored as one of the tradition's noblest and most distinguished poets.the couplet he inserts in A London Afternoon:`but though from court to cottage he depart,his saint is sure of his unspotted heart'by the 16th century british poet, george peele, entitled A Farewell to Arms, concludes with the couplet:`Goddess, allow this aged man his rightTo be your beadsman now that was your knight.'no poet serves, or has served, poetry better, than derek walcott.

Despite its size it delivers quality poetry. Derek Walcott's mastery is unparalleled. The way he brings the world to life is incredible. Sometimes I reread a lone or verse several times just to truly marvel as his command of poetic verse, his form and vivid imagery of the most mundane things at times. A true gift to the literary community.

Perhaps, because I looked so hard through the slapping growth(for like and kind). Maybe it's caused by any growth made whilethe slaps were sent, received, that a sense of the sortbeyond greatness in the work of this very fallible is met.Mind these not. From your sitting stand, read and decide.But for me, reading Mr. Walcott here in his humble (however got)honest, has set revelation lengths ahead of ego its foe,and caused what is post below. DRIVING VESSEL Be a man of projects. - Scribe AniIn double harness, wonder a plague,he crossed the threshold of eighty and asked,three years back in his Sea-Change,whether he (and at himself he laughed)would become Superman at seventy-seven.Body, ship of state to rend and break;closed for repair, rest, nutrition,and the ancient's second medicine, exercise award greatness the wreath and dodge of attack.Each hand captains their driving vessel,Nestor in the cart with Diomedes at a hundred.All who on this eye, mouth planet, walked, stooped,hewed, and drove from before Abram throughto a fighter in New York or a diver in Japan.`must do more than when they were young,'I think of those two Athenians, in (their) Politeiaswho quote another:"When a man no longer has to work for a living,he should practice excellence.""Eat less and leap more," Rabelais hasthe peasant ass say to the dandy, court horse.And my own tall sire only gave in when stranded,garage-less in his Purgatory at eighty,final sleep coming six to seven years on,and still more man than many.A superman at eighty? Life puts legs to it! © Copyright 2010 (17 April-03 June) Joseph Duvernay

In White Egrets his expressions drip with candor. It is clear that he represents the pulse of Caribbean poetry. He speaks so eloquently about his West Indian existence. "There never really was a `we' or `ours' whatever each enjoyed was separate."In White Egrets he has allowed the reader to travel around the world with him and you move to the rhythm, rhyme of his poetry. White Egrets is soaked in imagery, including the paintings of "Frans, Hals,and Rembrandt." One can metaphorically hear the sounds of this book as his depth details is compelling, original and his observations are sparkling. This book is a composition of varying lengths. He puts his feelings into words as he expresses himself with his own inner voice which for him is a natural beat, as he is unconcerned about the prospect of human opinion or annihilation.He is an honest poet as he questions his permanent value, he wonders if he has lost his gift of poetry he wonders if his "gift has withered" but one thing he clearly states and concedes in White Egrets is that if he has truly lost his gift he should be grateful. He says "be grateful that you wrote well in this place." I hope this is not his last. White Egrets is a must have for any library and great gift. White Egrets for me is perfection in its raw form, time indeed as inflicted him with wisdom.Brenda McCartney[...]

This poetry book is full of wonderful poems.Initially they are not easy because one looks for deep meaning. However these are a old man’s poems that paint in words pictures of his past.These are poems that need to be read aloud.The language Walcott uses to craft his poetry lifts you out of drab England and gives you a view of a different , very beautiful world.

Some beautiful poems by a master craftsman that evoke both the natural world of the Caribbean and the fragility of life, whether human or not. Walcott has an easy rhythm and a facility with images, raising plants and birds to the level of universal symbol.The poems of travel in Europe register new experiences and a different pace of life.This was a book well worth buying.

A haunting supreme collection by a poet at the end of his life. Wonderfully repeated images.

Bought for my sister as a Christmas present. She really enjoyed this book. It arrived in good time and was well packed.

I like Derek Walcott's poetry; such a strong sense of what ties us to the physical world we emerge in and the human community that brings us into being