My Shoes Are Killing Me

My Shoes Are Killing Me

Poems

Book - 2015 | First edition
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Winner of the 2015 Governor General's Award for Poetry

Winner of the 2015 Canadian Jewish Literary Award for Poetry

In My Shoes are Killing Me , poet Robyn Sarah reflects on the passing of time, the fleetingness of dreams, and the bittersweet pleasure of thinking on the "hazardous . . . treasurehouse" that is the past. Natural, musical, meditative, warm, and unexpectedly funny, this is a restorative and moving collection from one of Canada's most well-regarded poets.

Robyn Sarah is the author of nine previous collections. Ten of her poems have appeared on The Writer's Almanac , and her work has been anthologized in Garrison Keillor's Good Poems for Hard Times (2005), The Norton Anthology of Poetry (2005), and The Bedford Introduction to Literature (2001).

Publisher: Windsor, Ontario : Biblioasis, [2015]
Edition: First edition
Copyright Date: ©2015
ISBN: 9781771960144
1771960140
9781771960137
1771960132
Characteristics: 65 pages ; 21 cm

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From Library Staff

In My Shoes are Killing Me , poet Robyn Sarah reflects on the passing of time, the fleetingness of dreams, and the bittersweet pleasure of thinking on the "hazardous . . . treasurehouse" that is the past. Natural, musical, meditative, warm, and unexpectedly funny, this is a restorative ... Read More »


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Quotes

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a
andreareads
Aug 15, 2017

We wake each day and strap the time on our wrists. We have lists of things to do and get. A life of preparation, a life of errands. Laying the table over and over for a feast that never materializes. What time is it? What time is it?

a
andreareads
Aug 15, 2017

something was missing now
from what used to be enough . . .

a
andreareads
Aug 15, 2017

How many times
can a person make dinner? wash up the dishes?
cut one’s fingernails? it is all,
and always, to do again,

while things we didn’t do, and never will,
queue up on the wires like birds
and wing off, one by one . . .

a
andreareads
Aug 15, 2017

I wanted to write subtitles
for a movie of trees rustling in the wind,
for I have always loved the sound
of wind in leaves, the sound of trees
talking to each other in their own language,
and I have always known
that what they say is true.

a
andreareads
Aug 15, 2017

you remembered the chestnut that sprouted
in the children’s sandbox one spring,
the seedling you nurtured in a flowerpot,
then in a bucket, then in a dug bed
where it grew to a sapling, then to a full-sized tree
that blossoms now each year
in front of a house no longer yours

a
andreareads
Aug 15, 2017

What is the wall that divides us
from our shining?
Of what is it made?

a
andreareads
Aug 15, 2017

maybe it’s a wish for just a taste
of one of the lives I didn’t choose.

a
andreareads
Aug 15, 2017

No need to be afraid
of darkling words
whose sense eludes.
Live with them a while,
let them grow familiar . . .

a
andreareads
Aug 15, 2017

Rainsound a thin pecking
at the last snow crusts.

Comment

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l
librarysrgr8
Dec 23, 2016

What a delightful book of poetry. I highly recommend it.

e
elliswa
Feb 15, 2016

Robyn Sarah, never a self-promoter, is a poet who is belatedly receiving the recognition she deserves. Possibly the finest living Canadian poet.

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