Rock Tree Bird

by Twyla M. Hansen

From memories of the isolation and beauty of growing up on a farm, to a burgeoning awareness as a teenager of the economic and cultural forces waged against family farming, to coming to terms with the legacies of her parents after their passing, and, finally, arriving at an appreciation of nature and the environment wherever and whenever she finds it, Twyla M. Hansen offers poems that are alternately sad, sweet, funny, moving, human, and humane.

Genres: Poetry

102 pages, Paperback

First published April 1, 2017

Reviews

[Jack · Rating 5 out of 5]

Fantastic poetry book which features the sensual memory of Nebraska's state poet. A good one if you want to understand how it felt to grow up in the hinterlands of the USA. For a lot of people, even the world Hansen describes is one fading quickly into the past. The family farm isn't what it once was - it makes up 1% or fewer of total American farms as of this date. Hansen's experience belongs to a generation, one that's passing by as their children relocate to cities for other work. There's still something to be said though for a family unit beholden to the land, with all its riches and terrors.

[Nila Novotny · Rating 5 out of 5]

Although I'm not usually one for poetry, I decided I should read this because Twyla Hansen was the poet laureate for Nebraska and is worth reading. I could relate to her writings and visualize the ideas and stories she wrote. I appreciate her insight into things we often overlook or take for granted. Keep on writing, Twyla!

[Helen · Rating 5 out of 5]

An incredible collection of poetry from the heartland of America, focused mostly on nature and grief. I took this in small bites over a long period of time, but was continually inspired in my own poetry writing by Twyla's voice. Nothing mysterious here--very accessible, yet still plenty of depth.

[Heather M L · Rating 3 out of 5]

Picked because it was a WILLA winner. There are some lovely poems here, but most don’t resonate with me.

[Genevieve]

"Rub your fingers above / the stove, its warmth from / the trees you planted." (50)