Pagina principaleGruppiConversazioniAltroStatistiche
Cerca nel Sito
Questo sito utilizza i cookies per fornire i nostri servizi, per migliorare le prestazioni, per analisi, e (per gli utenti che accedono senza fare login) per la pubblicità. Usando LibraryThing confermi di aver letto e capito le nostre condizioni di servizio e la politica sulla privacy. Il tuo uso del sito e dei servizi è soggetto a tali politiche e condizioni.

Risultati da Google Ricerca Libri

Fai clic su di un'immagine per andare a Google Ricerca Libri.

Sto caricando le informazioni...

The Andrew Poems

di Shelly Wagner

UtentiRecensioniPopolaritàMedia votiConversazioni
25Nessuno913,335 (4)Nessuno
On a soft summer Virginia evening Shelly Wagner was pushing her five-year-old son in a tire swing in the backyard, idling away the hours between dinner and bedtime. She left him only for a moment, but when she returned Andrew had disappeared. He was found later that night, drowned in the river behind their home. From the depths of grief that followed, Wagner began to write poems—not as therapy, she says, but to see if she could express the range of her experience more fully than the published books she’d read. What emerged from Wagner’s quest is a volume of verse that has comforted and inspired thousands of parents, patients, and other determined survivors.These clear, unflinching poems wherein she evokes the life and death of her five-year-old son are moving and unforgettable. . . . You will remember Andrew as if you had known him, this delightful boy. —RUTH STONETreasureFollow my hand into this trunk.Examine for yourself its treasure.Lift and read the heavy wooden board,a scrap of lumberon which he scrawled his name—red letters, all capitals,the E backwards.In kindergarten he learnedto sign perfectly his many drawings,the jewels of his last will and testament.Try on his brilliant yellow sunglasses.See the world as he saw it—clearlyfull of hope.Slide your hand up the sleeveof his favorite red shirtas though you were to tickle him.He would laugh. You may cry.Finally, with utmost care,hold what he made in nursery school—a white plaster cast of his hand,fingers spread wide apartas though he were telling youhow old he would be when he died.… (altro)
Nessuno
Sto caricando le informazioni...

Iscriviti per consentire a LibraryThing di scoprire se ti piacerà questo libro.

Attualmente non vi sono conversazioni su questo libro.

Nessuna recensione
nessuna recensione | aggiungi una recensione
Devi effettuare l'accesso per contribuire alle Informazioni generali.
Per maggiori spiegazioni, vedi la pagina di aiuto delle informazioni generali.
Titolo canonico
Titolo originale
Titoli alternativi
Data della prima edizione
Personaggi
Luoghi significativi
Eventi significativi
Film correlati
Epigrafe
Dedica
Incipit
Citazioni
Ultime parole
Nota di disambiguazione
Redattore editoriale
Elogi
Lingua originale
DDC/MDS Canonico
LCC canonico

Risorse esterne che parlano di questo libro

Wikipedia in inglese

Nessuno

On a soft summer Virginia evening Shelly Wagner was pushing her five-year-old son in a tire swing in the backyard, idling away the hours between dinner and bedtime. She left him only for a moment, but when she returned Andrew had disappeared. He was found later that night, drowned in the river behind their home. From the depths of grief that followed, Wagner began to write poems—not as therapy, she says, but to see if she could express the range of her experience more fully than the published books she’d read. What emerged from Wagner’s quest is a volume of verse that has comforted and inspired thousands of parents, patients, and other determined survivors.These clear, unflinching poems wherein she evokes the life and death of her five-year-old son are moving and unforgettable. . . . You will remember Andrew as if you had known him, this delightful boy. —RUTH STONETreasureFollow my hand into this trunk.Examine for yourself its treasure.Lift and read the heavy wooden board,a scrap of lumberon which he scrawled his name—red letters, all capitals,the E backwards.In kindergarten he learnedto sign perfectly his many drawings,the jewels of his last will and testament.Try on his brilliant yellow sunglasses.See the world as he saw it—clearlyfull of hope.Slide your hand up the sleeveof his favorite red shirtas though you were to tickle him.He would laugh. You may cry.Finally, with utmost care,hold what he made in nursery school—a white plaster cast of his hand,fingers spread wide apartas though he were telling youhow old he would be when he died.

Non sono state trovate descrizioni di biblioteche

Descrizione del libro
Riassunto haiku

Discussioni correnti

Nessuno

Copertine popolari

Link rapidi

Voto

Media: (4)
0.5
1
1.5
2
2.5
3
3.5
4 1
4.5
5

Sei tu?

Diventa un autore di LibraryThing.

 

A proposito di | Contatto | LibraryThing.com | Privacy/Condizioni d'uso | Guida/FAQ | Blog | Negozio | APIs | TinyCat | Biblioteche di personaggi celebri | Recensori in anteprima | Informazioni generali | 203,251,565 libri! | Barra superiore: Sempre visibile