The Bounty : Poems

Rating:
Summary: EACH WORD IS LIKE A VIEW OF CARRIBEAN HEART
Review: READING THIS IS LIKE PAINTING A PORTRAIT . IT GLIMMER LIKE THE JEWEL OF THE CARRIBEANBLUE TONE IS A DEEP PATHOSOF PERSONAL EMOTION THAT COME ONLY COME FROM THE PEN OF ONE WHO LOVES HIS HOMELAMD AND WRITE ABOUT IT

Rating:
Summary: EACH WORD IS LIKE A VIEW OF CARRIBEAN HEART
Review: READING THIS IS LIKE PAINTING A PORTRAIT . IT GLIMMER LIKE THE JEWEL OF THE CARRIBEANBLUE TONE IS A DEEP PATHOSOF PERSONAL EMOTION THAT COME ONLY COME FROM THE PEN OF ONE WHO LOVES HIS HOMELAMD AND WRITE ABOUT IT

Rating:
Summary: A book of elegies, full of death, sadness and simple faith.
Review: Walcott's photograph on the back of the 1st edition sums up the feeling of Bounty- Sorrow, the grief of the death of friends and loved ones, faith in God seen "as through a glass darkly", the exhaustion of a sensitive man aware of his own mortality. Yet, through it all is the great sense of gratitude for the folk culture of the country that has nurtured him. And if he will not make great declarations of religious faith, he is thankful for the sun on the leaves, the ocean outside his door, the songs of Sessenne the folk singer of St. Lucia. Like Crusoe and Odysseus, this fortunate traveller has returned to his bench on the edge of the sea under the breadfruit leaves, "where stars and fireflies breed." This poet is past posturing. "The only art left is the preparation of grace", and even now, ever the bright eyed poet (behind the tears of the aging sage), he is "going down to the shallow edge to begin again." Walcott's only vocation has been poetry, his universe that of letters. In this he has never lost his faith.

Rating:
Summary: A book of elegies, full of death, sadness and simple faith.
Review: Walcott's photograph on the back of the 1st edition sums up the feeling of Bounty- Sorrow, the grief of the death of friends and loved ones, faith in God seen "as through a glass darkly", the exhaustion of a sensitive man aware of his own mortality. Yet, through it all is the great sense of gratitude for the folk culture of the country that has nurtured him. And if he will not make great declarations of religious faith, he is thankful for the sun on the leaves, the ocean outside his door, the songs of Sessenne the folk singer of St. Lucia. Like Crusoe and Odysseus, this fortunate traveller has returned to his bench on the edge of the sea under the breadfruit leaves, "where stars and fireflies breed." This poet is past posturing. "The only art left is the preparation of grace", and even now, ever the bright eyed poet (behind the tears of the aging sage), he is "going down to the shallow edge to begin again." Walcott's only vocation has been poetry, his universe that of letters. In this he has never lost his faith.

Rating:
Summary: Striking imagery
Review: Walcott's poetry sweeps you along on a series of vivid and memorable images that leave you breathless.