David Whyte's body of work reflects the depth and breadth of a maturing artist, taking its readers on a passage through time and place, allowing us to bear witness to the constellation of difficulties, triumphs, adventures, losses, hopes and revelations that have shaped one particular human life. RIVER FLOW contains over one hundred poems selected from five previously published works, together with twenty-three new poems, including a tribute to an Ethiopian woman navigating her first escalator, a meditation of love and benediction for his young daughter, and a cycle of Irish poems that convey his deep love of the land and life-long appreciation for its wisdom. Within its covers are poems to be read and reread, poems that are sure to become companions on our own passage through the turbulent waters of a well-lived, well-loved life.
Poet David Whyte grew up with a strong, imaginative influence from his Irish mother among the hills and valleys of his father’s Yorkshire. He now makes his home in the Pacific Northwest of the United States.
The author of seven books of poetry and three books of prose, David Whyte holds a degree in Marine Zoology and has traveled extensively, including living and working as a naturalist guide in the Galapagos Islands and leading anthropological and natural history expeditions in the Andes, Amazon and Himalaya. He brings this wealth of experience to his poetry, lectures and workshops.
His life as a poet has created a readership and listenership in three normally mutually exclusive areas: the literate world of readings that most poets inhabit, the psychological and theological worlds of philosophical enquiry and the world of vocation, work and organizational leadership.
An Associate Fellow at Said Business School at the University of Oxford, he is one of the few poets to take his perspectives on creativity into the field of organizational development, where he works with many European, American and international companies. In spring of 2008 he was awarded an honorary doctorate from Neumann College, Pennsylvania.
In organizational settings, using poetry and thoughtful commentary, he illustrates how we can foster qualities of courage and engagement; qualities needed if we are to respond to today’s call for increased creativity and adaptability in the workplace. He brings a unique and important contribution to our understanding of the nature of individual and organizational change, particularly through his unique perspectives on Conversational Leadership.
"because finally after all this struggle and all these years, you don't want to any more, you've simply had enough of drowning, and you want to live and you want to love and you will walk across any territory and any darkness, however fluid and however dangerous, to take the one hand you know belongs in yours."
David Whyte spoke at Town Hall, Seattle on December 2, 2011. I had never heard of him, but a dear friend insisted that my husband and I attend with her and her daughters. She so believed in David's poetry and his message that she bought our tickets and made certain our calendars were free so we had no excuses.
I will be forever grateful to this loving friend. I sat transfixed for the two hours David spoke, recited his poems and a handful of others that have inspired him through the years. He recited each poem from memory, repeating phrases and stanzas during the poem, then repeating the entire poem. It was a powerful way to experience poetry. He emphasized different words each time, paused a different points, allowing you to fully absorb the words, their meaning and effect.
And the poetry itself? I began to cry as he recited the first poem of the evening, "Brendan", written in honor of his son (it wasn't until I returned home that night with a copy of River Flow that I learned the poem was entitled Brendan, my husband's name). I cried through every poem after that. The tears were a visceral reaction; it's as if something deep in my psyche and in my physical self is responding to the power and beauty of the art. I often cry at the symphony for the same reason.
His poems are at once grounded and ethereal, fully of this world, yet soaring above. David is a native of Yorkshire, with Irish and Welsh roots, but he has lived for many years on Whidby Island in the Puget Sound. His language is lyrical but clean, expressive but not dramatic. His poems have a deep connection to nature and there is a tremendous sense of place, whether that place is the nook in the stairwell where his writing desk sits or kayaking in the the ocean:
Out on the Ocean
In these waves I am caught on shoulders lifting the sky
each crest breaks sharply and suddenly rises
in each steep wall my arms work in the strong movement of other arms
the immense energy each wave throws up with hand outstretched grabs the paddle
the blades flash lifting veils of spray as the bow rears terrified then falls
with five miles to go of open ocean the eyes pierce the horizon
the kayak pulls round like a pony held by unseen reins shying out of the ocean
and the spark behind fear recognized as life leaps into flame
always this energy smoulders inside when it remains unlit the body fills with dense smoke.
And one line - in a section of poems about Ireland, that speaks so loudly in its simplicity - it shatters the heart:
Ireland; joy when uttered, grief when heard
People form no less a vital center of David Whyte's poetry, whether in loving memory of his mother, as an expression of love to his partner, a poem of renewal and encouragement to a friend going through a divorce, or in astonishment at the birth and growth of his children:
From, "My Daughter Asleep"
Carrying a child, I carry a bundle of sleeping future appearances. I carry my daughter adrift on my shoulder, dreaming her slender dreams and I carry her beneath the window, watching her moon lit palm open and close like a tiny folded map, each line a path that leads where I can't go ....
Like an transformative book of poetry, there is no "I read" conclusion to the journey. Only "I am reading, re-reading."
Poetry is so personal and my taste for it evolves. As I write, Whyte continues, after years, to hold me spellbound.
Whyte poems are jewels of story telling operating at multiple levels of meaning. I have little capacity for tone poems; I need them to speak straight. Not a problem of antique language (I love Shakes, Dunne, Milton); I just need to read it without knowing the secret, hidden references and the poet's biog.
You can't put a book of poetry on the "read it" shelf; it just won't stay there. This book is always within arm's reach for inspiration.
David Whyte is a poet of remarkable depth. Born of an Irish mother, David oozes a distinct trace of that ancient personality, and the deliberate process of Irish poetry is ingrained in his work.
Whyte deals in universal themes; identity, home, and the sense of belonging. His attention to the detail of his prose is infectious to the point that every person who speaks about him can only use a voice that that doesn't belong to them in describing the man. He has a peculiar ability to unearth a vocabulary in people that they themselves did not know was there. Only in listening to David's work does a person then have the ability to speak about him. This, I believe, is an essential purpose of a poet; to speak so distinctly that those listening are quite unable to resist sounding the exact same way.
Poems to savor and revisit, year after year, compose the majority of this selection. Whyte is a meditative poet, following a muse to an insight, an image, a moment of wonder and often ending at the edge of what comes next.
Stunning. Just a few favorites: “The Opening of Eyes,� “Sometimes,� “Waiting to Go On,� “My Poetry,� “Ten Years Later,� “Self-Portrait,� “Sweet Darkness,� “All the True Vows,� “What to Remember When Waking,� “No Path.�
Several weeks ago I reviewed David Whyte's collection of essays, Consolations, giving it a five-star rating, and opining that it was a very special book that offered keen and sensitive insights into various aspects of the living experience. While I was reading Consolations, I also began reading Whyte's 363-page collection of new and selected poems entitled River Flow, treating myself to one or two poems each day. And treat is the absolutely the right noun to use, as amongst the approximately 500 books of poetry in my library, none surpass River Flow.
David (It's very hard to call a poet whose poems turn you into a friend and fellow life-traveler by his surname) organizes his collection into sixteen sections, beginning with Home, and adding topics such as Revelation, Writing, Remember, The Consequence Of Love, Ireland, and Admonitions to name a few. Then, within each category, David supplies a series of poems that offer a circular picture of the subject that inspires the section's name. These poems are accessible, offer up a wide range of human emotion, provide keen insights into the living experience, and leave the reader feeling that he or she has added considerably to his or her storehouse of wisdom.
River Flow is indeed a wise book. All through it, I kept whispering, "Wowww, I'll have to read that poem again." And at the end, I couldn't place it in my book case, but instead left it on my bedside nightstand so that I could pick it up every so often and revisit my favorite poems and their invaluable gifts.
I really want to buy a copy of this book. The poems span many years and subjects, which touch on Blake, friendship, grief, English and Irish landscapes, too many to describe and all with clear story lines. Remarkable the way David Whyte captures deep experience in clear and simple vocabulary.
Getting to hear David Whyte recite his own poetry last year took me several stratospheres deeper into my love of and ability to connect with poetry. New vistas have opened up!
Whyte's words flow smoothly and the rhythms are so soothing. He paints vivid pictures with every poem, and it seemed he was exposing his soul. My only issue was my own issue - I felt like the deeper meaning within most of his poems lie just beyond my reach. I read many over and over again, trying to grasp the underlying message, and just couldn't quite get there. I can't fault Whyte for that - I read poetry once or twice a year and struggle with many poets. I did understand and thoroughly enjoy some of the poems, however, and will mention two favorites. Arrivals - about 2 Ethiopian women coming to America for the first time, and their encounter with an escalator - made me giggle like a little girl and think about the fears I have overcome. To be brave! The Well of Grief moved me tremendously, as well - the words rang so true, but I haven't yet found the bravery he describes - to embrace our deep grief as the path to wholeness. I want to, and this poem has earned a place on my wall. So how to rate? I can't give 5 stars to a book I don't quite understand, so I settled on 4.
I've had many people surprised when two of my favorite writers show an amazing contrast in C.S. Lewis and Philip Larkin. Though I disagreed with the world view of one and agreed with the other, they both showed an honest perspective from their side. And I knew it would never be possible for someone to stand on both sides at once. However, David Whyte comes closer than I could have thought possible.
His poetry is beautiful, his imagination is simple yet vast, and the scope of his work is phenomenal. Reading his poetry was amazing because of how it gave me a new way of looking at my own thoughts and how they come into my writing. He has both the simplicity to just read it, and the depth to continue reflecting. If you are into reading all kinds of poetry, I would suggest reading David Whyte to sit back and take a broader view.
David Whyte is my favorite contemporary author of poetry and prose. I highly recommend him to anyone who has never read, heard of, nor seen his work. There are videos of his readings and discussions in presentations to groups of followers including writers, readers, and professionals from of all walks of life and careers worldwide. His work is proclaimed by many hundreds of thousands as inspirational, almost like a virtual guide to keep at hand as we surely encounter the endless highs and lows of life, through the experiences self-love, relationships, love, loss, and the many emotional states including depression and isolation that is written through personal experience. After seeing and speaking to him on several occasions I can honestly share the incredible force of his presence as he speaks to the heart and soul.
Coincidentally or not , The House of the Belonging is the first Whyte poem I have read and it remains my Whyte favorite. It’s one of those love at first sight things, this of mine with his poetry. I keep reading Whyte with much interest since.
This is the bright home in which I live, this is where I ask my friends to come, this is where I want to love all the things it has taken me so long to learn to love.
This is the temple of my adult aloneness and I belong to that aloneness as I belong to my life.
Sometimes if you move carefully through the forest, breathing like the ones in the old stories, who could cross a shimmering bed of leaves without a sound, you come to a place whose only task is to trouble you with tiny but frightening requests, conceived out of nowhere but in this place beginning to lead everywhere. Requests to stop what you are doing right now, and to stop what you are becoming while you do it, questions that can make or unmake a life, questions that have patiently waited for you, questions that have no right to go away.
I love David's work, so making my way slowly through this collection was a dream. I was supposed to go on one of his Ireland tours last year, so I picked this up as consolation and as preparation to go this year. That didn't get to happen again, but now I feel well-prepared for 2022 or whenever it finally gets to happen. There's something for everyone in this collection. If you've never read David Whyte before, it's a great place to start. If you're familiar, you'll find your favorites and maybe a few you've missed.
There are a lot of poems here. . . And there are a lot of those I like. There are a decent number I love. And whatever that does or doesn't mean, I think David Whyte is one of our mystics. We need our mystics. As much as ever. The New Yorker needs them back. Poets with something to say...
This made for a good bedside book. Something quiet, yet broody and Irish. I wanted to keep reading each night.
If you do not know this author or his work you have missed out on one of the great 21st century minds deeply committed to helping translate the journey we call life. 100 select poems written from a intense and intentional awareness to everything. Pat Conroy says� David Whyte makes the reading of poetry a matter of life and death. His writings have moved me and changed me.� For 20 years now that is my truth as well.
Eve Ensler (V) references the poem "The House of Belonging" in an essay about land and belonging and it took me to the volume I had briefly read years ago when I bought it. I remember seeing it at Tsumami and being pulled in as he is a poet of the west. I realized how appropriate his poetry was to the seminar I was taking at the time: "Abbey Lives", A Green Imagination, led by Dr. Barbara Mossberg, studying ecopoetry and environmental writing. This is a lovely volume.
Having read two books of Whyte's prose (Consolations and Poetry and the Preservation of the Soul in Corporate America") I have begun to delve into his poetry with this collection of his writings. He has a wonderful way with words and I have enjoy reading these poems.
Like all collections, this one is uneven, but there are some stunning poems here. One of my favorite passages, from a poem called “When the Wind Flows�:
hell You realize, resembles more An average life Half hidden Never fully spoken Something you can grow used to.
Good poems - I enjoyed it. I think its better listening to David Whyte read his own poems. David has a great way of drawing you in and slowing things down - outstanding voice!
I love David Whyte but this was a big book of poems. The first grouping was great and scattered throughout were a few more then it took a more biographical turn.