Tweetspeak Poetry

  • Home
  • FREE prompts
  • Earth Song
  • Every Day Poems—Subscribe! ✨
  • Teaching Tools
  • Books, Etc.
  • Patron Love

Elizabeth Bishop: The Complete Poems 1927-1979

By Glynn Young 10 Comments

Bishop PoemsI’ve been reading “The Complete Poems 1927 -1979” by Elizabeth Bishop. She was born in 1911 and died in 1979. Along the way, she picked up just about every writing award available – Pulitzer Prize, National Book Award, National Book Critics Circle Award, two Guggenheim Fellowships. And it doesn’t stop there.

I was introduced to Bishop’s poetry in the mid-1970s, and I “backed” into it. I was reading everything ever written by and about Flannery O’Connor, and she and Bishop had been good friends until O’Connor’s death in 1964 of complications from lupus. But once I finished reading O’Connor,  I put Bishop aside. Only recently did I come across this volume of her complete poems, first published in 1984. Here is her poem “The Riverman” (1965):

[A man in a remote Amazonian village decides to
become a sacaca, a witch doctor who works with
water spirits. The river dolphin is believed to have
supernatural powers; Luandinha is a river spirit
associated with the moon; and the pirarucú is a fish
weighing up to four hundred pounds. These and
other details on which this poem is based are from
      Amazon Town, by Charles Wagley]

I got up in the night
for the Dolphin spoke to me.
He grunted beneath my window,
hid by the river mist,
but I glimpsed him – a man like myself.
I threw off my blanket, sweating;
I even tore off my shirt.
I got out of my hammock
and went through the window naked.
My wife slept and snored.
Hearing the Dolphin ahead,
I went down to the river
and the moon was burning bright
as the gasoline-lamp mantle
with the flame turned up too high,
just before it begins to scorch.
I went down to the river.
I heard the Dolphin sigh
as he slid into the water.
I stood there listening
till he called from far outstream.
I waded into the river
and suddenly a door
in the water opened inward,
groaning a little, with wter
bulging above the lintel.
I looked back at my house,
white as a piece of washing
forgotten on the bank,
and I thought once of my wife,
but I knew what I was doing.

They gave me a shell of cachaça
and decorated cigars.
The smoke rose like mist
through the water, and our breaths
didn’t make any bubbles.
We drank cachaça and smoked
the green cheroot. The room
filled with grey-green smoke
and my head couldn’t have been dizzier.
Then a tall, beautiful serpent
in elegant white satin,
with her big eyes green and gold
like the lights on the river steamers—
yes, Luandinha, none other—
entered and greeted me.
She complimented me
in a language I didn’t know;
but when she blew cigar smoke
into my ears and nostrils
I understood, like a dog,
although I can’t speak it yet.
They showed me room after room
and took me from here to Belém
and back again in a minute.
In fact, I’m not sure where I went,
but miles, under the river.

Three times now I’ve been there.
I don’t eat fish any more.
There is fine mud on my scalp
and I know from smelling my comb
that the river smells in my hair.
My hands and feet are cold.
I look yellow, my wife says,
and she brews me stinking teas
I throw out, behind her back.
Every moonlit night
I’m to go back again.
I know some things already,
but it will take years of study,
it is all so difficult.
They gave me a mottled rattle
and a pale-green coral twig
and some special weeds like smoke.
(They’re under my canoe.)
When the moon shines on the river,
oh, faster than you can think it
we travel upstream and downstream,
we journey from here to there,
under the floating canoes,
right through the wicker traps,
when the moon shines on the river
and Luandinha gives a party.
Three times now I’ve attended.
Her rooms shine like silver
with the light from overhead,
a steady stream of light
like at the cinema.

I need a virgin mirror
no one’s ever looked at,
that’s never looked back at anyone,
to flash up the spirit’s eyes
and help me to recognize them.
The storekeeper offered me
a box of little mirrors,
but each time I picked one up
a neighbor looked over my shoulder
and then that one was spoiled—
spoiled, that is, for anything
but the girls to look at their mouths in,
to examine their teeth and smiles.

Why shouldn’t I be ambitious?
I sincerely desire to be
a serious sacaca
like Fortunato Pombo,
or Lúcio, or even
the great Joaquim Sacaca.
Look, it stands to reason
that everything we need
can be obtained from the river.
It drains the jungles; it draws
from the trees and plants and rocks
from half around the world,
it draws from the very heart
of the earth the remedy
for each of the diseases—
one just has to know how to find it.
But everything must be there
in that magic mud, beneath
the multitudes of fish,
deadly or innocent,
the giant pirarucús,
the turtles and crocodiles,
tree trunks and sunk canoes,
with the crayfish, with the worms
with tiny electric eyes
turning on and off and on.
The river breathes in salt
and breathes it out again,
and all is sweetness there
in the deep, enchanted silt.

When the moon burns white
and the river makes that sound
like a primus pumped up high—
that fast, high whispering
like a hundred people at once—
I’ll be there below,
as the turtle rattle hisses
and the coral gives a sign,
travelling fast as a wish,
with my magic cloak of fish
swerving as I swerve,
following the veins,
the river’s long, long veins,
to find the pure elixirs.
Godfathers and cousins,
your canoes are over my head;
I hear your voices talking.
You can peer down and down
or dredge the river bottom
but never, never catch me.
When the moon shines and the river
lies across the earth
and sucks it like a child,
then I will go to work
to get you health and money.
The Dolphin singled me out;
Luandinha seconded it.

***

I’m glad I found her poetry again.

Photo by notsogoodphotography, Creative Commons, via Flickr. Post by Glynn Young.

Browse more poets and poems
Browse more moon poems
Browse more creatures poems

  • Author
  • Recent Posts
Glynn Young
Glynn Young
Editor and Twitter-Party-Cool-Poem-Weaver at Tweetspeak Poetry
Glynn Young lives in St. Louis where he retired as the team leader for Online Strategy & Communications for a Fortune 500 company. Glynn writes poetry, short stories and fiction, and he loves to bike. He is the author of the Civil War romance Brookhaven, as well as Poetry at Work and the Dancing Priest Series. Find Glynn at Faith, Fiction, Friends.
Glynn Young
Latest posts by Glynn Young (see all)
  • A History of Children’s Stories: “The Haunted Wood” by Sam Leith - May 20, 2025
  • World War II Had Its Poets, Too - May 15, 2025
  • Czeslaw Milosz, 1946-1953: “Poet in the New World” - May 13, 2025

Filed Under: book reviews, Dream Poems, Poets

Try Every Day Poems...

Comments

  1. Maureen Doallas says

    December 8, 2009 at 6:25 pm

    Bishop. . . yes! A Vassar connection.

    I have her collected letters, too. Quite a read.

    Reply
  2. L.L. Barkat says

    December 9, 2009 at 4:22 pm

    Okay, next time you have to review something I already own. 🙂 Because my wish list is growing and growing! (Off to add this to it now… 🙂

    Reply
  3. nAncY says

    December 11, 2009 at 11:12 pm

    i was surprised by her taking on the voice of a man.
    do poets often do this?

    Reply
  4. Glynn says

    December 11, 2009 at 11:36 pm

    nAncY – I’m not sure if it is common or not, but having read the poems, Elizabeth Bishop often does (did?) take on the voice of a man.

    Reply
  5. nAncY says

    December 12, 2009 at 12:07 am

    well, i find it interesting. though i have not read a lot of poetry thus far, it seems i have not really thought about it until i read this poem. as you were speaking of two different poets in your text, i thought maybe i had misread who wrote the poem for a moment.

    Reply
  6. L.L. Barkat says

    December 12, 2009 at 2:37 pm

    nAncY, I had the same experience! But why should I be surprised, really? Sometimes I write with a man’s voice. Goodness, I’ve even talked as porch and a teacup. 🙂

    Reply

Trackbacks

  1. Poetry at Work: The Dignity of All Work says:
    December 19, 2013 at 9:55 am

    […] and one of the best expressions of it is “Filling Station” by Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979). Bishop describes what is clearly dirty work in a clearly dirty workplace, and then sees a begonia and a […]

    Reply
  2. Edmund Prestwich» Blog Archive » Elizabeth Bishop, “The Riverman” says:
    February 11, 2014 at 5:43 pm

    […] For those who don’t have Bishop’s poems in print, a comment has kindly directed me to a site which gives a full text of “The Riverman”: https://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/2009/12/08/elizabeth-bishop-the-complete-poems-1927-1979/ […]

    Reply
  3. You Are a Poetry Person—Maybe You Just Don't Know It - says:
    January 21, 2016 at 9:47 am

    […] to read one that was just this. I wasn’t sure if the length of it would hold her attention—Bishop poems are so patiently written, and reading them requires patience. (I often tell my students that her […]

    Reply
  4. “Elizabeth Bishop: A Very Short Introduction” by Jonathan Post - Tweetspeak Poetry says:
    October 25, 2022 at 5:00 am

    […] In 2009, I read The Complete Poems: 1927-1979. It had been a long time since I read her poetry, and it was like finding a new poet. You can read the complete text of one of those poems, “The Riverman,” here at Tweetspeak Poetry. […]

    Reply

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Take How to Read a Poem

Get the Introduction, the Billy Collins poem, and Chapter 1

get the sample now

Welcome to Tweetspeak

New to Tweetspeak Poetry? Start here, in The Mischief Café. You're a regular? Check out our May Menu

Patron Love

❤️

Welcome a little patron love, when you help keep the world poetic.

The Graphic Novel

"Stunning, heartbreaking, and relevant illustrations"

Callie Feyen, teacher

read a summary of The Yellow Wallpaper

meet The Yellow Wallpaper characters

How to Write Poetry

Your Comments

  • Glynn on World War II Had Its Poets, Too
  • Sandra Fox Murphy on World War II Had Its Poets, Too
  • Glynn on Poets and Poems: Kelly Belmonte and “The Mother of All Words”
  • Bethany R. on Poets and Poems: Kelly Belmonte and “The Mother of All Words”

Featured In

We're happy to have been featured in...

The Huffington Post

The Paris Review

The New York Observer

Tumblr Book News

Stay in Touch With Us

Categories

Learn to Write Form Poems

How to Write an Acrostic

How to Write a Ballad

How to Write a Catalog Poem

How to Write a Ghazal

How to Write a Haiku

How to Write an Ode

How to Write a Pantoum

How to Write a Rondeau

How to Write a Sestina

How to Write a Sonnet

How to Write a Villanelle

5 FREE POETRY PROMPTS

Get 5 FREE inbox poetry prompts from the popular book How to Write a Poem

Shakespeare Resources

Poetry Classroom: Sonnet 18

Common Core Picture Poems: Sonnet 73

Sonnet 104 Annotated

Sonnet 116 Annotated

Character Analysis: Romeo and Juliet

Character Analysis: Was Hamlet Sane or Insane?

Why Does Hamlet Wait to Kill the King?

10 Fun Shakespeare Resources

About Shakespeare: Poet and Playwright

Top 10 Shakespeare Sonnets

See all 154 Shakespeare sonnets in our Shakespeare Library!

Explore Work From Black Poets

About Us

  • • A Blessing for Writers
  • • Our Story
  • • Meet Our Team
  • • Literary Citizenship
  • • Poet Laura
  • • Poetry for Life: The 5 Vital Approaches
  • • T. S. Poetry Press – All Books
  • • Contact Us

Write With Us

  • • 5 FREE Poetry Prompts-Inbox Delivery
  • • 30 Days to Richer Writing Workshop
  • • Poetry Prompts
  • • Submissions
  • • The Write to Poetry

Read With Us

  • • All Our Books
  • • Book Club
  • • Every Day Poems—Subscribe! ✨
  • • Literacy Extras
  • • Poems to Listen By: Audio Series
  • • Poet-a-Day
  • • Poets and Poems
  • • 50 States Projects
  • • Charlotte Perkins Gilman Poems Library
  • • Edgar Allan Poe Poems Arts & Experience Library
  • • William Blake Poems Arts & Experience Library
  • • William Shakespeare Sonnet Library

Celebrate With Us

  • • Poem on Your Pillow Day
  • • Poetic Earth Month
  • • Poet in a Cupcake Day
  • • Poetry at Work Day
  • • Random Acts of Poetry Day
  • • Take Your Poet to School Week
  • • Take Your Poet to Work Day

Gift Ideas

  • • Every Day Poems
  • • Our Shop
  • • Everybody Loves a Book!

Connect

  • • Donate
  • • Blog Buttons
  • • By Heart
  • • Shop for Tweetspeak Fun Stuff

Copyright © 2025 Tweetspeak Poetry · FAQ, Disclosure & Privacy Policy