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.

Best Poem of Robert Bly

A Month Of Happiness

A blind horse stands among cherry trees.
And bones shine from cool earth.
The heart leaps
Almost up to the sky! But laments
And filaments pull us back into the dark.
Night takes us. But
A paw
Comes out of the dark
To light the road. I'll be all right.
I follow my own fiery traces through the night.

Read the full of A Month Of Happiness

DRIVING WEST IN 1970

My dear children, do you remember the morning
When we climbed into the old Plymouth
And drove west straight toward the Pacific?

We were all the people there were.
We followed Dylan's songs all the way west.
It was Seventy; the war was over, almost;

And we were driving to the sea.

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