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The Cinnamon Peeler: Selected Poems
Michael Ondaatje’s new selected poems, The Cinnamon Peeler, brings together poems written between 1963 and 1990, including work from his most recent collection, Secular Love. These poems bear witness to the extraordinary gifts that have won high praise for this truly original poet and novelist.
210 pages, Paperback
First published August 25, 1989
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2007 people want to read
About the author
Michael Ondaatje
123 books4,215 followersPhilip Michael Ondaatje is a Sri Lankan-born Canadian poet, fiction writer, and essayist, renowned for his contributions to both poetry and prose. He was born in Colombo in 1943, to a family of Tamil and Burgher descent. Ondaatje emigrated to Canada in 1962, where he pursued his education, obtaining a Bachelor of Arts degree from the University of Toronto and a Master of Arts from Queen's University.
Ondaatje’s literary career began in 1967 with his poetry collection The Dainty Monsters, followed by his celebrated The Collected Works of Billy the Kid in 1970. His poetry earned him numerous accolades, including the Governor General’s Award for his collection There's a Trick with a Knife I'm Learning to Do: Poems 1973–1978 in 1979. He published 13 books of poetry, exploring diverse themes and poetic forms.
In 1992, Ondaatje gained international fame with the publication of his novel The English Patient, which won the Booker Prize and was later adapted into an Academy Award-winning film. His other notable works include In the Skin of a Lion (1987), Anil’s Ghost (2000), and Divisadero (2007), which won the Governor General’s Award. Ondaatje’s novel Warlight (2018) was longlisted for the Booker Prize.
Aside from his writing, Ondaatje has been influential in fostering Canadian literature. He served as an editor at Coach House Books, contributing to the promotion of new Canadian voices. He also co-edited Brick, A Literary Journal, and worked as a founding trustee of the Griffin Trust for Excellence in Poetry.
Ondaatje’s work spans various forms, including plays, documentaries, and essays. His 2002 book The Conversations: Walter Murch and the Art of Editing Film earned him critical acclaim and won several awards. His plays have been adapted from his novels, including The Collected Works of Billy the Kid and Coming Through Slaughter.
Over his career, Ondaatje has been honored with several prestigious awards. He was named an Officer of the Order of Canada in 1988, upgraded to Companion in 2016, and received the Sri Lanka Ratna in 2005. In 2016, a new species of spider, Brignolia ondaatjei, was named in his honor.
Ondaatje’s personal life is also intertwined with his literary pursuits. He has been married to novelist Linda Spalding, and the couple co-edits Brick. He has two children from his first marriage and is the brother of philanthropist Sir Christopher Ondaatje. He was also involved in a public stand against the PEN American Center's decision to honor Charlie Hebdo in 2015, citing concerns about the publication's anti-Islamic content.
Ondaatje’s enduring influence on literature and his ability to blend personal history with universal themes in his writing continue to shape Canadian and world literature.
Ondaatje’s literary career began in 1967 with his poetry collection The Dainty Monsters, followed by his celebrated The Collected Works of Billy the Kid in 1970. His poetry earned him numerous accolades, including the Governor General’s Award for his collection There's a Trick with a Knife I'm Learning to Do: Poems 1973–1978 in 1979. He published 13 books of poetry, exploring diverse themes and poetic forms.
In 1992, Ondaatje gained international fame with the publication of his novel The English Patient, which won the Booker Prize and was later adapted into an Academy Award-winning film. His other notable works include In the Skin of a Lion (1987), Anil’s Ghost (2000), and Divisadero (2007), which won the Governor General’s Award. Ondaatje’s novel Warlight (2018) was longlisted for the Booker Prize.
Aside from his writing, Ondaatje has been influential in fostering Canadian literature. He served as an editor at Coach House Books, contributing to the promotion of new Canadian voices. He also co-edited Brick, A Literary Journal, and worked as a founding trustee of the Griffin Trust for Excellence in Poetry.
Ondaatje’s work spans various forms, including plays, documentaries, and essays. His 2002 book The Conversations: Walter Murch and the Art of Editing Film earned him critical acclaim and won several awards. His plays have been adapted from his novels, including The Collected Works of Billy the Kid and Coming Through Slaughter.
Over his career, Ondaatje has been honored with several prestigious awards. He was named an Officer of the Order of Canada in 1988, upgraded to Companion in 2016, and received the Sri Lanka Ratna in 2005. In 2016, a new species of spider, Brignolia ondaatjei, was named in his honor.
Ondaatje’s personal life is also intertwined with his literary pursuits. He has been married to novelist Linda Spalding, and the couple co-edits Brick. He has two children from his first marriage and is the brother of philanthropist Sir Christopher Ondaatje. He was also involved in a public stand against the PEN American Center's decision to honor Charlie Hebdo in 2015, citing concerns about the publication's anti-Islamic content.
Ondaatje’s enduring influence on literature and his ability to blend personal history with universal themes in his writing continue to shape Canadian and world literature.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 127 reviews
October 11, 2021
And that is all this writing should be then.
The beautiful formed things caught at the wrong moment
so they are shapeless, awkward
moving to the clear.
This deserves four big stars. This is a spectrum of approaches. the early clings to the autobiographical, think Running in the Family. Matters evolve from there, perhaps straddling a disputed border between Wallace Stevens and Frank O'Hara. His precarious presence is only further endangered by being an exile, several times over. Thus living in Canada he sounds like Jim Harrison, especially with alcohol and violence. there are experiments with meter and prose poems which are just gorgeous.
I was duly impressed.
The beautiful formed things caught at the wrong moment
so they are shapeless, awkward
moving to the clear.
This deserves four big stars. This is a spectrum of approaches. the early clings to the autobiographical, think Running in the Family. Matters evolve from there, perhaps straddling a disputed border between Wallace Stevens and Frank O'Hara. His precarious presence is only further endangered by being an exile, several times over. Thus living in Canada he sounds like Jim Harrison, especially with alcohol and violence. there are experiments with meter and prose poems which are just gorgeous.
I was duly impressed.
December 4, 2013
Alongside "Mockingbird Wish Me Luck", this book lays constant vigil on my nightstand. Written about his mistress, but companion to anyone who has ever been awoken in the middle of the night by a low keening wail of want.
April 29, 2012
If I were a cinnamon peeler
I would ride your bed
and leave the yellow bark dust
on your pillow.
Your breasts and shoulders would reek
you could never walk through markets
without the profession of my fingers
floating over you. The blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under rain gutters, monsoon.
Here on the upper thigh
at this smooth pasture
neighbor to your hair
or the crease
that cuts your back. This ankle.
You will be known among strangers
as the cinnamon peeler's wife."
I would ride your bed
and leave the yellow bark dust
on your pillow.
Your breasts and shoulders would reek
you could never walk through markets
without the profession of my fingers
floating over you. The blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under rain gutters, monsoon.
Here on the upper thigh
at this smooth pasture
neighbor to your hair
or the crease
that cuts your back. This ankle.
You will be known among strangers
as the cinnamon peeler's wife."
October 3, 2025
Once again, Olivia has fallen victim to a misleadingly evocative title.
Imagine, if you will, genuinely putting these words to print, in this order, in a published manuscript:
Like just imagine for a second? To borrow a phrase from the very next poem, "I am unable to make anything of this / who are these words for".
(But there were a handful or two of actually solid offerings scattered among all the . . . that. So I'll give it a 1.5 or 2/5.)
Imagine, if you will, genuinely putting these words to print, in this order, in a published manuscript:
I have always
been afflicted
by angular
small breasted
women
from the mid-west,
Like just imagine for a second? To borrow a phrase from the very next poem, "I am unable to make anything of this / who are these words for".
(But there were a handful or two of actually solid offerings scattered among all the . . . that. So I'll give it a 1.5 or 2/5.)
February 23, 2015
Although I liked the first half better than the second, I still can't give this book fewer than five stars. I love the way Ondaatje plays with language and his imagery is unequaled! Learned so much...
July 22, 2025
Civilized savagery
I have recently read a lot of poetry by classic poets such as Sappho, Li Po, Tu Fu, John Keats, and Robert Browning. To read poets like these, you can get your hands on carefully annotated versions by editors who explain all the obscure references in the poems. Reading Michael Ondaatje's The Cinnamon Peeler: Selected Poems made me realize that I've been underappreciating that luxury. There's a good deal in tCP:SP that remains mysterious to me. For instance the second poem, "Early Morning, Kingston to Ganaoque", ends with these two lines
Ondaatje was born in Sri Lanka (although at the time of his birth it may have been known as Ceylon). His first eleven years he grew up in Sri Lanka. His family then moved to England, and eventually in 1962 to Canada, where he became a citizen. His poetry often has a sense of the foreign (and indeed a few of the poems in tCP:SP were written on visits to Sri Lanka). However, his poetry overall has a very Canadian feel to me, myself a Canadian immigrant of more recent vintage. Many of the poems have a very savage feel to me, and no, I don't know what I mean by that and cannot explain it.
I think my favorite poem is "Sweet Like a Crow", addressed to an eight-year-old girl. It begins with this introduction
Unfortunately, "Sweet Like a Crow" is not typical of the poems in tCP:SP. None of the others have quite this sense of fun. They are still good poetry, but in a more civilized and savage way.
Blog review.
I have recently read a lot of poetry by classic poets such as Sappho, Li Po, Tu Fu, John Keats, and Robert Browning. To read poets like these, you can get your hands on carefully annotated versions by editors who explain all the obscure references in the poems. Reading Michael Ondaatje's The Cinnamon Peeler: Selected Poems made me realize that I've been underappreciating that luxury. There's a good deal in tCP:SP that remains mysterious to me. For instance the second poem, "Early Morning, Kingston to Ganaoque", ends with these two lines
Somewhere in those fields,My reaction to that was "Huh? What does that have to do with the previous 15 lines?" I still don't know. They come out of nowhere.
they are shaping new kinds of women
Ondaatje was born in Sri Lanka (although at the time of his birth it may have been known as Ceylon). His first eleven years he grew up in Sri Lanka. His family then moved to England, and eventually in 1962 to Canada, where he became a citizen. His poetry often has a sense of the foreign (and indeed a few of the poems in tCP:SP were written on visits to Sri Lanka). However, his poetry overall has a very Canadian feel to me, myself a Canadian immigrant of more recent vintage. Many of the poems have a very savage feel to me, and no, I don't know what I mean by that and cannot explain it.
I think my favorite poem is "Sweet Like a Crow", addressed to an eight-year-old girl. It begins with this introduction
For Hetti Corea, 8 years oldThe poem then proceeds to treat Bowles's observation with all the seriousness it deserves, listing a long series of discordant, disagreeable sounds that Hettie's voice is allegedly like. It reminds me of the way kids joke with each other by throwing exaggerated over-the-top insults at each other. I imagine Hettie laughing out loud as Ondaatje tells her her voice is
‘The Sinhalese are beyond a doubt one of the least musical people in the world. It would be quite impossible to have less sense of pitch, line or rhythm’ — Paul Bowles
Like a crow swimming in milk,I would have found this very funny at the age of eight, and at the age of sixty-eight I still do.
like a nose being hit by a mango
Unfortunately, "Sweet Like a Crow" is not typical of the poems in tCP:SP. None of the others have quite this sense of fun. They are still good poetry, but in a more civilized and savage way.
Blog review.
Read
December 28, 2022I wasn't altogether sure what to expect here but i warmed up fast. I'm not familiar enough with Ondaatje these are his selected poems and I was amazed I had a fantastic time. MO is highly influenced by Wallace Stevens - he wears that influence on his sleeve and transforms it as in King Kong Meets Wallace Stevens or in the kind of remarkably-conceived poem Dates which is one of those that leaves me wondering how somebody comes up with something like that in the first place.
Love the love and its troubles in Bearhug. Short poems paint scenes very well I'm reminded of Kathleen Jamie's talent for that. Also the title poem here is one of the finest erotic poems of the late 20th century. If I have a complaint it's that dogs keep dying in these poems and I think Michael treats that just as he should every time it comes up but my word. Extended responses to Pound too which is always points. Application for a Driving License floored me now That's a poem to keep
Read the unspooling Elimination Dance too it's sharp
So many of these I think deserve screaming from rooftops or stamping into walls. I think basically nobody in the UK talks about these though which is a huge shame! it would benefit! thank you so much Willow for the rec it was successful
In real life
men talk about art
women judge men
Love the love and its troubles in Bearhug. Short poems paint scenes very well I'm reminded of Kathleen Jamie's talent for that. Also the title poem here is one of the finest erotic poems of the late 20th century. If I have a complaint it's that dogs keep dying in these poems and I think Michael treats that just as he should every time it comes up but my word. Extended responses to Pound too which is always points. Application for a Driving License floored me now That's a poem to keep
Read the unspooling Elimination Dance too it's sharp
So many of these I think deserve screaming from rooftops or stamping into walls. I think basically nobody in the UK talks about these though which is a huge shame! it would benefit! thank you so much Willow for the rec it was successful
In real life
men talk about art
women judge men
January 7, 2022
very nearly a 2.5 star book, unfortunately.
adored the first 20 pages and the final set of poems, but the middle? i felt that the middle poems lacked all the gentle heart and tenderness i usually expect from ondaatje. some poems just didn't resound at all, which completely took away from the poems that did. sometimes, i was more enthralled by the epigraphs than the poems that followed.
his poetry is at its best when you can really feel the thrum of longing for his beloved. sometimes it's the domestic that brings the rush of feeling, not the heavy, pretty metaphors.
for future reference, here are the bops:
the diverse causes
a house divided
her house
a stolen biography
red accordion
escarpment
adored the first 20 pages and the final set of poems, but the middle? i felt that the middle poems lacked all the gentle heart and tenderness i usually expect from ondaatje. some poems just didn't resound at all, which completely took away from the poems that did. sometimes, i was more enthralled by the epigraphs than the poems that followed.
his poetry is at its best when you can really feel the thrum of longing for his beloved. sometimes it's the domestic that brings the rush of feeling, not the heavy, pretty metaphors.
for future reference, here are the bops:
the diverse causes
a house divided
her house
a stolen biography
red accordion
escarpment
March 13, 2009
This book has one of my favorite poems of all time in it--"The Time Around Scars". There's something deliciously provocative about Ondaatje's prose, and his poetry is no different. One of my favorites.
October 15, 2021
i cant put my emotions about this poetry collection into words. its a masterpiece what else did you expect? ondaatje is one of my favourite poets and the way he plays with words, rhythm, meter, ... is incredible
there is always so much to unpack and think about while reading his poems and you can tell how much time and effort he has put in writing them.
he captures the anxiety of an artist in the best way possible.
are you happy?
No I am not happy
lucky though
there is always so much to unpack and think about while reading his poems and you can tell how much time and effort he has put in writing them.
he captures the anxiety of an artist in the best way possible.
are you happy?
No I am not happy
lucky though
January 9, 2024
Not as evocative as his Handwriting collection, except for some lines that were the magic I have come to expect from Ondaatje. But how highly could one think of a collection of poetry written about a man's mistress? Ugh men.
February 28, 2008
This is a definitive book of poetry by a man most known as a novelist. So many of Ondaatje's best novels were born in his poetry, and it is still the best expression of his love of language and obsession with loyalty. This book is an excellent addition to any collection, if only for the title poem.
June 14, 2014
Ondaatje is a master of imagery. Even if, like me, you don't always see the structure of poetry and how it affects what you're reading his words and the pictures they paint always feel true. The phrasing about love, so simple in two lines, say more than chapters by other men.
July 30, 2012
Mythical, enriching as you move with Ondaatje's lyrical knock of language. I can't pull me from the poem "Uswetakeiyawa"
March 1, 2021
I am not sure that this is an admission, or a boast: I am, when it comes to poetry, a pure philistine. Simply put, I don't see the point of poetry. Or, put elsewise, at this point in the twenty-first century, I don't see what purpose poetry serves that prose cannot serve. So I have pretty much eschewed verse for the best part of the past thirty years or so. That being said...
I have found during this Covid Moment that my reading habits have gone askew; I can't seem to easily make time or space to concentrate on reading. So finding this volume en route to the freebox at work, I decided it may well be time to delve into the poems of my favorite living author. And I found the experience to be rewarding. It answers a question I had never thought to ask: why has Michael Ondaatje never written short stories? His poems function very much as brief, lapidary short stories, and form a sort of connective tissue which ties together such works as In the Skin of a Lion, the Collected Works of Billy the Kid, Coming Through Slaughter, and Running in the Family. When I venture on any as yet inchoate project of reading through the (prose) works of Michael Ondaatje, this will come in as a handy bit of reference material.
I have found during this Covid Moment that my reading habits have gone askew; I can't seem to easily make time or space to concentrate on reading. So finding this volume en route to the freebox at work, I decided it may well be time to delve into the poems of my favorite living author. And I found the experience to be rewarding. It answers a question I had never thought to ask: why has Michael Ondaatje never written short stories? His poems function very much as brief, lapidary short stories, and form a sort of connective tissue which ties together such works as In the Skin of a Lion, the Collected Works of Billy the Kid, Coming Through Slaughter, and Running in the Family. When I venture on any as yet inchoate project of reading through the (prose) works of Michael Ondaatje, this will come in as a handy bit of reference material.
Read
April 5, 2020It's just not for me. I was really excited about reading this, I mean the cover and title alone. But, most of the poems were dragging or just not for me. Some of it I liked but not enough to finish the book. The poems I enjoyed the most were ones that were focused on a female character or were unique in their depiction of moments or relationships. However so many felt pretentious or snobbish to me, I don't believe that was the author's intention however that's the way some came out. It's not a right fit for me, perhaps someone else.
December 6, 2024
limpid, funny, a little mean––all signs of great poetry. favs: the diverse causes, bearhug, elimination dance, rock bottom, to a sad daughter
November 4, 2014
I had high expectations coming into this book of poems by Ondaatje. The only other work that I had read from him was The Collected Works of Billy the Kid, which was recommended to me by my independent study teacher my senior year of high school. I thank him so much for introducing me to Ondaatje, because I ate that book up within less than a day, and I knew that if Ondaatje could do that with Billy the Kid then he could do it in all his other works too, including The Cinnamon Peeler.
He did just that.
Unlike Billy the Kid, The Cinnamon Peeler was simply a book of poetry. The former was more of a book of prose and poetry that created a story (what would that be called? I’m not entirely sure). Nonetheless, Ondaatje was able to surprise me yet again with his command of the English language. There were moments where I just had to stop and go “damn”.
Ondaatje uses his words in a way that not only makes you sit back and think for a moment, relating everything he has said to yourself and your life experience, but he also makes you wonder how a person could have came up with a few simple words, put them together, and made them so beautiful. I will share with you guys a stanza from one of the poems that caught my eye and made me revel at Ondaatje’s mastery. It is from his poem, Rainy Night Talk:
Here’s to the long legs
driving home
in more and more rain
weaving like a one-sided
lonely conversation
over the mountains
His words are gorgeous. My favorite poem out of the rest was Claude Glass, and I highly recommend that anyone interested in poetry to try him out. I don’t know many other people who are familiar with him (even my poetry professor did not recognize him), and if anyone else is familiar with him I ask that you speak up and spread the word!
Even if you are not that much of a poetry person, check him out. He may change your mind about poetry.
He did just that.
Unlike Billy the Kid, The Cinnamon Peeler was simply a book of poetry. The former was more of a book of prose and poetry that created a story (what would that be called? I’m not entirely sure). Nonetheless, Ondaatje was able to surprise me yet again with his command of the English language. There were moments where I just had to stop and go “damn”.
Ondaatje uses his words in a way that not only makes you sit back and think for a moment, relating everything he has said to yourself and your life experience, but he also makes you wonder how a person could have came up with a few simple words, put them together, and made them so beautiful. I will share with you guys a stanza from one of the poems that caught my eye and made me revel at Ondaatje’s mastery. It is from his poem, Rainy Night Talk:
Here’s to the long legs
driving home
in more and more rain
weaving like a one-sided
lonely conversation
over the mountains
His words are gorgeous. My favorite poem out of the rest was Claude Glass, and I highly recommend that anyone interested in poetry to try him out. I don’t know many other people who are familiar with him (even my poetry professor did not recognize him), and if anyone else is familiar with him I ask that you speak up and spread the word!
Even if you are not that much of a poetry person, check him out. He may change your mind about poetry.
March 18, 2019
"high on poetry and mountains."
I don't have much experience with poetry, I haven't read enough to know what I'm talking about. But I love finding myself in the midst of a block of words, and judging by that alone I can't recommend this book enough. I have a feeling I would prefer his other book more.
It is no secret that I adore Ondaatje's prose and how he creates a raw kaleidoscope of the real through the master craft of his writing. This book of poems is no exception to that same recipe.
I borrowed this from the library, I need to own my own copy.
"I write about you
as if I own you
which I do not
As you can say nothing
this is mine"
I don't have much experience with poetry, I haven't read enough to know what I'm talking about. But I love finding myself in the midst of a block of words, and judging by that alone I can't recommend this book enough. I have a feeling I would prefer his other book more.
It is no secret that I adore Ondaatje's prose and how he creates a raw kaleidoscope of the real through the master craft of his writing. This book of poems is no exception to that same recipe.
I borrowed this from the library, I need to own my own copy.
"I write about you
as if I own you
which I do not
As you can say nothing
this is mine"
November 28, 2012
I bought this book on a whim (it was $2 at a book fair), and I'm so happy that I did. I haven't read any of Ondaatje's novels, but now I want to. He write poetry like a (very good) fiction writer—almost every poem is narrative, rooted in poignant images, relatable characters, bits of dialogue that I think must have come from Ondaatje's life. There's a familiar quality to his poetry, which I think is what got me hooked on it. I feel like I've experienced the same funny, painful moments and that I've come to the same conclusions about love and loneliness and the night sky.
February 17, 2016
the more i read of Ondaatje the more i like him. he writes a perfect balance between poetry and prose that's very palpable and pleasurable to read; the writing on the back of this book crystalizes it:
"If Michael Ondaatje's novels have the compression and imagistic power of poetry, his poems often read like narratives that have been pared down to their mysterious essence."
I really enjoy the content of his poetry too. It's got a kind of wilderness solitude wandering beer cigarette, wet dog smell to it.
"If Michael Ondaatje's novels have the compression and imagistic power of poetry, his poems often read like narratives that have been pared down to their mysterious essence."
I really enjoy the content of his poetry too. It's got a kind of wilderness solitude wandering beer cigarette, wet dog smell to it.
June 12, 2009
Okay, I can understand why people give out about the poet Ondaatje! Some of this is quite laboured. But again, some is quite lovely.
Big metaphors, silly similes, occasionally.
I liked the stuff about his family, now that I've read his "autobiography." There's a lot of extra detail in it.
Again, I prefer the poetry interspersed with prose in Billy the Kid and Coming Through Slaughter. More... grounded. But I liked quite a lot of this more than I imagined I would.
Big metaphors, silly similes, occasionally.
I liked the stuff about his family, now that I've read his "autobiography." There's a lot of extra detail in it.
Again, I prefer the poetry interspersed with prose in Billy the Kid and Coming Through Slaughter. More... grounded. But I liked quite a lot of this more than I imagined I would.
March 9, 2016
This, folks, is a damn fine book of poetry. Michael Ondaatje covers tragedy, booze, dogs, sex, and several more themes, with some of the most beautiful and hilarious language that is simple yet complex, tender yet profound, and overall masterful in its clarity, concision, and rhythm. Not to mention that the title poem is THE poem to give to that somebody with whom you're looking to share your life - forget all your Brownings and Rossetties. This one is a must.
January 21, 2022
This midnight breathing
heaves with no sensible rhythm,
is fashioned by no metronome.
Your body, eager
for the extra yard of bed,
reconnoitres and outflanks;
I bend in peculiar angles.
This nightly battle is fought with subtleties:
you get pregnant, I'm sure,
just for extra ground
- immune from kicks now.
Inside you now's another,
thrashing like a fish,
swinging, fighting
for its inch already.
* * *
Two birds loved
in a flurry of red feather
like a burst cottonball,
continuing while I drove over them.
I am a good driver, nothing shocks me.
* * *
I'm holding my son in my arms
sweating after nightmares
small me
fingers in his mouth
his other fist clenched in my hair
small me
sweating after nightmares.
* * *
At night the most private of a dog's long body groan.
It comes with his last stretch
in the dark corridor outside our room.
The children turn.
A window tries to split with cold
the other dog hoofing the carpet for lice.
We're all alone.
* * *
It is the formal need
to suck blossoms out of the flesh
in those we admire
planting them private in the brain
and cause fruit in lonely gardens.
To learn to pour the exact arc
of steel still soft and crazy
before it hits the page.
I have stroked the mood and tone
of hundred year dead men and women
Emily Dickinson's large dog, Conrad's beard
and, for myself,
removed them from historical traffic.
Having tasted their brain. Or heard
the wet sound of a death cough.
Their idea of the immaculate moment is now.
The rumours pass on
the rumours pass on
are planted
till they become a spine.
* * *
In the long open Vancouver Island room
sitting by the indoor avocados
where indoor spring light
falls on the half covered bulbs
and down the long room light falling
onto the dwarf orange tree
vines from south america
the agatha christie book by the window
Nameless morning
solution of grain and colour
There is this light,
colourless, which falls on the warm
stretching brain of the bulb
that is dreaming avocado
* * *
Tell me
all you know
about bamboo
growing wild, green
growing up into soft arches
in the temple ground
the traditions
driven through hands
through the heart
during torture
and most of all
this
small bamboo pipe
not quite horizontal
that drips
every ten seconds
to a shallow bowl
I love this
being here
not a word
just the faint
fall of liquid
the boom of an iron buddhist bell
in the heart rapid
as ceremonial bamboo
* * *
Night and its forces
step through the picket gate
from the blue bush
to the kitchen
Everywhere it moves
and we cannot sleep we cannot sleep
we damn the missionaries
their morals thin as stars
we find ourselves
within the black
circus of the fly
all night long
his sandpaper
tabasco leg
The dog sleepwalks
into the cupboard
into the garden and heart attacks
hello
I've had a dog dream
wake up and cannot find
my long ears
Nicotine caffeine
hungry bodies
could put us to sleep
but nothing puts us to sleep
* * *
Kissing the stomach
kissing your scarred
skin boat. History
is what you've travelled on
and take with you
We've each had our stomachs
kissed by strangers
to the other
and as for me
I bless everyone
who kissed you here
* * *
If I were a cinnamon peeler
I would ride your bed
and leave the yellow bark dust
on your pillow.
Your breasts and shoulders would reek
you could never walk through markets
without the profession of my fingers
floating over you. The blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under rain gutters, monsoon.
Here on the upper thigh
at this smooth pasture
neighbour to your hair
or the crease
that cuts your back. This ankle.
You will be known among strangers
as the cinnamon peeler's wife.
I could hardly glance at you
before marriage
never touch you
- your keen nosed mother, your rough brothers.
I buried my hands
in saffron, disguised them
over smoking tar,
helped the honey gatherers . . .
When we swam once
I touched you in water
and our bodies remained free,
you could hold me and be blind of smell.
You climbed the bank and said
this is how you touch other women
the grass cutter's wife, the lime burner's daughter.
And you searched your arms
for the missing perfume
and knew
what good is it
to be the lime burner's daughter
left with no trace
as if not spoken to in the act of love
as if wounded without the pleasure of a scar.
You touched
your belly to my hands
in the dry air and said
I am the cinnamon
peeler's wife. Smell me.
* * *
the peacock means order
the fighting kangaroos mean madness
the oasis means I have struck water
positioning of the stamp - the despot's head
horizontal, or 'mounted policemen'
mean political danger
the false date means I
am not where I should be
when I speak of the weather
I mean business
a blank postcard says
I am in the wilderness
heaves with no sensible rhythm,
is fashioned by no metronome.
Your body, eager
for the extra yard of bed,
reconnoitres and outflanks;
I bend in peculiar angles.
This nightly battle is fought with subtleties:
you get pregnant, I'm sure,
just for extra ground
- immune from kicks now.
Inside you now's another,
thrashing like a fish,
swinging, fighting
for its inch already.
- A House Divided, pg. 7
* * *
Two birds loved
in a flurry of red feather
like a burst cottonball,
continuing while I drove over them.
I am a good driver, nothing shocks me.
- Application for a Driving Licence, pg. 14
* * *
I'm holding my son in my arms
sweating after nightmares
small me
fingers in his mouth
his other fist clenched in my hair
small me
sweating after nightmares.
- Griffin of the Night, pg. 31
* * *
At night the most private of a dog's long body groan.
It comes with his last stretch
in the dark corridor outside our room.
The children turn.
A window tries to split with cold
the other dog hoofing the carpet for lice.
We're all alone.
- Birth of Sound, pg. 32
* * *
It is the formal need
to suck blossoms out of the flesh
in those we admire
planting them private in the brain
and cause fruit in lonely gardens.
To learn to pour the exact arc
of steel still soft and crazy
before it hits the page.
I have stroked the mood and tone
of hundred year dead men and women
Emily Dickinson's large dog, Conrad's beard
and, for myself,
removed them from historical traffic.
Having tasted their brain. Or heard
the wet sound of a death cough.
Their idea of the immaculate moment is now.
The rumours pass on
the rumours pass on
are planted
till they become a spine.
- Taking, pg. 41
* * *
In the long open Vancouver Island room
sitting by the indoor avocados
where indoor spring light
falls on the half covered bulbs
and down the long room light falling
onto the dwarf orange tree
vines from south america
the agatha christie book by the window
Nameless morning
solution of grain and colour
There is this light,
colourless, which falls on the warm
stretching brain of the bulb
that is dreaming avocado
- The Agatha Christie Books by the Window, pg. 51
* * *
Tell me
all you know
about bamboo
growing wild, green
growing up into soft arches
in the temple ground
the traditions
driven through hands
through the heart
during torture
and most of all
this
small bamboo pipe
not quite horizontal
that drips
every ten seconds
to a shallow bowl
I love this
being here
not a word
just the faint
fall of liquid
the boom of an iron buddhist bell
in the heart rapid
as ceremonial bamboo
- Tin Roof, pg. 106
* * *
Night and its forces
step through the picket gate
from the blue bush
to the kitchen
Everywhere it moves
and we cannot sleep we cannot sleep
we damn the missionaries
their morals thin as stars
we find ourselves
within the black
circus of the fly
all night long
his sandpaper
tabasco leg
The dog sleepwalks
into the cupboard
into the garden and heart attacks
hello
I've had a dog dream
wake up and cannot find
my long ears
Nicotine caffeine
hungry bodies
could put us to sleep
but nothing puts us to sleep
- Rock Bottom, pg. 130
* * *
Kissing the stomach
kissing your scarred
skin boat. History
is what you've travelled on
and take with you
We've each had our stomachs
kissed by strangers
to the other
and as for me
I bless everyone
who kissed you here
- Rock Bottom, pg. 151
* * *
If I were a cinnamon peeler
I would ride your bed
and leave the yellow bark dust
on your pillow.
Your breasts and shoulders would reek
you could never walk through markets
without the profession of my fingers
floating over you. The blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under rain gutters, monsoon.
Here on the upper thigh
at this smooth pasture
neighbour to your hair
or the crease
that cuts your back. This ankle.
You will be known among strangers
as the cinnamon peeler's wife.
I could hardly glance at you
before marriage
never touch you
- your keen nosed mother, your rough brothers.
I buried my hands
in saffron, disguised them
over smoking tar,
helped the honey gatherers . . .
When we swam once
I touched you in water
and our bodies remained free,
you could hold me and be blind of smell.
You climbed the bank and said
this is how you touch other women
the grass cutter's wife, the lime burner's daughter.
And you searched your arms
for the missing perfume
and knew
what good is it
to be the lime burner's daughter
left with no trace
as if not spoken to in the act of love
as if wounded without the pleasure of a scar.
You touched
your belly to my hands
in the dry air and said
I am the cinnamon
peeler's wife. Smell me.
- The Cinnamon Peeler, pg. 156-157
* * *
the peacock means order
the fighting kangaroos mean madness
the oasis means I have struck water
positioning of the stamp - the despot's head
horizontal, or 'mounted policemen'
mean political danger
the false date means I
am not where I should be
when I speak of the weather
I mean business
a blank postcard says
I am in the wilderness
- Translations of My Postcards, pg. 170
October 13, 2007
Killer, original poetry. This is poetry about friendship, love and artistic leanings. I LOVE it and read the book over and over. A Liz recommendation! This is one of those books you come back to again and again - an immense comfort and reminder about your connections to your family, friends and community.
January 31, 2024
Picked it up after a friend made me read "The Cinnamon Peeler's Wife". She said it was her favourite poem and she did not share that information with many people. I was fascinated by the poem and so I read the book. I have found Ondaatje's writing to be as my sister described - impressive. He has a knack with language and it's something one can only dream about. You either have it or you don't.
May 2, 2015
"those who are allergic to the sea, those who have resisted depravity" the intermission was particularly amusing.
June 1, 2018
As much as I have loved MO's fiction, after reading this volume of poetry I have concluded that this is where his writing really shines, like river rocks flashing in the current.
Read
January 9, 2025Thirty years after my former beloved partner gave this to me for Christmas, I rediscovered it on my shelf, opened it and was smitten anew.
I first visited the title poem, one of my long-time favourites, surely the most erotic verse I have ever read. How I long for the smell of cinnamon on my own flesh.
But then I retraced my fingers back to the start, checking off nearly every poem as one worth re-reading, in particular: "Letters and Other Worlds"; many of those contained in Rock bottom, particularly *('The space in which we have dissolved -- does it taste of us?') and *(Saturday) and *(Ends of the Earth) -- which touched my itinerant soul to the core.
And then two fantastic forays into nature near the end: Escarpment and Birch Bark.
I will visit again before the next thirty years has passed.
I first visited the title poem, one of my long-time favourites, surely the most erotic verse I have ever read. How I long for the smell of cinnamon on my own flesh.
But then I retraced my fingers back to the start, checking off nearly every poem as one worth re-reading, in particular: "Letters and Other Worlds"; many of those contained in Rock bottom, particularly *('The space in which we have dissolved -- does it taste of us?') and *(Saturday) and *(Ends of the Earth) -- which touched my itinerant soul to the core.
And then two fantastic forays into nature near the end: Escarpment and Birch Bark.
I will visit again before the next thirty years has passed.
March 29, 2020
I love those Books for Amazon with Everybody else is reading cause I love it.😀😁😂 How was the story? It was good than ever! But if you want to join it, Please do it right now! The Question is: Did Men and Women Read Together?
Yes, I did read the story about Black and White for Children and Parents. Hope you have a good reader! If you want to be a actor, You might need just grow up and do something!😁😂😃😄😅 Please let us know and I'll get back to you.
Thanks!😀😁😆😉😊😋😍
Yes, I did read the story about Black and White for Children and Parents. Hope you have a good reader! If you want to be a actor, You might need just grow up and do something!😁😂😃😄😅 Please let us know and I'll get back to you.
Thanks!😀😁😆😉😊😋😍
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