Robert Bly


Comments about Robert Bly

  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (3/2/2016 2:49:00 PM)

    'The Loon's Cry'

    From far out in the center of the naked lake
    The loon's cry rose.
    It was the cry of someone who owned very little.


    [Robert Bly - from 'Silence in the Snowy Fields']

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  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (3/2/2016 2:19:00 PM)

    from 'Silence in the Snowy Fields':

    Winter Privacy Poems

    II
    My shack has two rooms; I use one.
    Te lamplight falls on my chair and table,
    And I fly into one of my own poems -
    I can't tell you where -
    As if I appeared where I am now,
    In a wet field, snow falling.

    IV On Meditation
    There is a solitude like black mud!
    Sitting in this darkness singing,
    I can't tell if this joy
    Is from the body, or the soul, or a third place!

    V Listening to Bach
    Inside this music there is someone
    Who is not well described by the names
    Of Jesus, or Jehovah, or the Lord of Hosts!

    (Robert Bly)

  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (12/11/2015 1:18:00 PM)

    Another poem by Robert Bly:

    ''Driving to Town Late to Mail a Letter ''


    It is a cold and snowy night. The main street is deserted.
    The only things moving are swirls of snow.
    As I lift the mailbox door, I feel its cold iron.
    There is a privacy I love in this snowy night.
    Driving around, I will waste more time.

The Great Society

Dentists continue to water their lawns even in the rain:
Hands developed with terrible labor by apes
Hang from the sleeves of evangelists;
There are murdered kings in the light-bulbs outside movie theaters:
The coffins of the poor are hibernating in piles of new tires.

The janitor sits troubled by the boiler,
And the hotel keeper shuffles the cards of insanity.
The President dreams of invading Cuba.

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