quotes by Robert Bly
(showing 1-21 of 21)
"A lazy part of us is like a tumbleweed.
It doesn’t move on its own. Sometimes it takes
A lot of Depression to get tumbleweeds moving."
— Robert Bly (Morning Poems)
It doesn’t move on its own. Sometimes it takes
A lot of Depression to get tumbleweeds moving."
— Robert Bly (Morning Poems)
"BAD PEOPLE
A man told me once that all the bad people
Were needed. Maybe not all, but your fingernails
You need; they are really claws, and we know
Claws. The sharks—what about them?
They make other fish swim faster. The hard-faced men
In black coats who chase you for hours
In dreams—that’s the only way to get you
To the shore. Sometimes those hard women
Who abandon you get you to say, “You.”
A lazy part of us is like a tumbleweed.
It doesn’t move on its own. Sometimes it takes
A lot of Depression to get tumbleweeds moving.
Then they blow across three or four States.
This man told me that things work together.
Bad handwriting sometimes leads to new ideas;
And a careless god—who refuses to let people
Eat from the Tree of Knowledge—can lead
To books, and eventually to us. We write
Poems with lies in them, but they help a little."
— Robert Bly (Morning Poems)
A man told me once that all the bad people
Were needed. Maybe not all, but your fingernails
You need; they are really claws, and we know
Claws. The sharks—what about them?
They make other fish swim faster. The hard-faced men
In black coats who chase you for hours
In dreams—that’s the only way to get you
To the shore. Sometimes those hard women
Who abandon you get you to say, “You.”
A lazy part of us is like a tumbleweed.
It doesn’t move on its own. Sometimes it takes
A lot of Depression to get tumbleweeds moving.
Then they blow across three or four States.
This man told me that things work together.
Bad handwriting sometimes leads to new ideas;
And a careless god—who refuses to let people
Eat from the Tree of Knowledge—can lead
To books, and eventually to us. We write
Poems with lies in them, but they help a little."
— Robert Bly (Morning Poems)
"THE RESEMBLANCE BETWEEN
YOUR LIFE AND A DOG
I never intended to have this life, believe me—
It just happened. You know how dogs turn up
At a farm, and they wag but can’t explain.
It’s good if you can accept your life—you’ll notice
Your face has become deranged trying to adjust
To it. Your face thought your life would look
Like your bedroom mirror when you were ten.
That was a clear river touched by mountain wind.
Even your parents can’t believe how much you’ve
changed.
Sparrows in winter, if you’ve ever held one, all feathers,
Burst out of your hand with a fiery glee.
You see them later in hedges. Teachers praise you,
But you can’t quite get back to the winter sparrow.
Your life is a dog. He’s been hungry for miles,
Doesn’t particularly like you, but gives up, and comes in."
— Robert Bly (Morning Poems)
YOUR LIFE AND A DOG
I never intended to have this life, believe me—
It just happened. You know how dogs turn up
At a farm, and they wag but can’t explain.
It’s good if you can accept your life—you’ll notice
Your face has become deranged trying to adjust
To it. Your face thought your life would look
Like your bedroom mirror when you were ten.
That was a clear river touched by mountain wind.
Even your parents can’t believe how much you’ve
changed.
Sparrows in winter, if you’ve ever held one, all feathers,
Burst out of your hand with a fiery glee.
You see them later in hedges. Teachers praise you,
But you can’t quite get back to the winter sparrow.
Your life is a dog. He’s been hungry for miles,
Doesn’t particularly like you, but gives up, and comes in."
— Robert Bly (Morning Poems)
"WHAT THE ANIMALS PAID
The Hampshire ewes standing in their wooden pens,
Their shiny black hooves close to each other,
Had to pay with their wool, with their wombs,
With their eating, with their fear of the dogs.
Every animal had to pay. Horses paid all day;
They pulled stone-boats and the ground pulled back.
And the pigs? They paid with their squealing
When the knife entered the throat and the blood
Followed it out. The blood, steaming and personal,
Paid it. Any debt left over the intestines paid.
“I am what I am.” The pig could not say that.
The women paid with their bowed heads, and the men,
My father among them, paid with their drinking.
Demons shouted: “Pay to the last drop!” I paid
The debt another way. Because I did not pay
In the farm way, I am writing this poem today."
— Robert Bly (Morning Poems)
The Hampshire ewes standing in their wooden pens,
Their shiny black hooves close to each other,
Had to pay with their wool, with their wombs,
With their eating, with their fear of the dogs.
Every animal had to pay. Horses paid all day;
They pulled stone-boats and the ground pulled back.
And the pigs? They paid with their squealing
When the knife entered the throat and the blood
Followed it out. The blood, steaming and personal,
Paid it. Any debt left over the intestines paid.
“I am what I am.” The pig could not say that.
The women paid with their bowed heads, and the men,
My father among them, paid with their drinking.
Demons shouted: “Pay to the last drop!” I paid
The debt another way. Because I did not pay
In the farm way, I am writing this poem today."
— Robert Bly (Morning Poems)
"IT IS SO EASY TO GIVE IN
I have been thinking about the man who gives in.
Have you heard about him? In this story
A twenty-eight-foot pine meets a small wind
And the pine bends all the way over to the ground.
“I was persuaded,” the pine says. “It was convincing.”
A mouse visits a cat, and the cat agrees
To drown all her children. “What could I do?”
The cat said. “The mouse needed that.”
It’s strange. I’ve heard that some people conspire
In their own ruin. A fool says, “You don’t
Deserve to live.” The man says, “I’ll string this rope
Over that branch, maybe you can find a box.”
The Great One with her necklace of skulls says,
“I need twenty thousand corpses.” “Tell you what,”
The General says, “we have an extra battalion
Over there on the hill. We don’t need all these men.”"
— Robert Bly (Morning Poems)
I have been thinking about the man who gives in.
Have you heard about him? In this story
A twenty-eight-foot pine meets a small wind
And the pine bends all the way over to the ground.
“I was persuaded,” the pine says. “It was convincing.”
A mouse visits a cat, and the cat agrees
To drown all her children. “What could I do?”
The cat said. “The mouse needed that.”
It’s strange. I’ve heard that some people conspire
In their own ruin. A fool says, “You don’t
Deserve to live.” The man says, “I’ll string this rope
Over that branch, maybe you can find a box.”
The Great One with her necklace of skulls says,
“I need twenty thousand corpses.” “Tell you what,”
The General says, “we have an extra battalion
Over there on the hill. We don’t need all these men.”"
— Robert Bly (Morning Poems)
"THE FACE IN THE TOYOTA
Suppose you see a face in a Toyota
One day, and you fall in love with that face,
And it is Her, and the world rushes by
Like dust blown down a Montana street.
And you fall upward into some deep hole,
And you can’t tell God from a grain of sand.
And your life is changed, except that now you
Overlook even more than you did before;
And these ignored things come to bury you,
And you are crushed, and your parents
Can’t help anymore, and the woman in the Toyota
Becomes a part of the world that you don’t see.
And now the grain of sand becomes sand again,
And you stand on some mountain road weeping."
— Robert Bly (Morning Poems)
Suppose you see a face in a Toyota
One day, and you fall in love with that face,
And it is Her, and the world rushes by
Like dust blown down a Montana street.
And you fall upward into some deep hole,
And you can’t tell God from a grain of sand.
And your life is changed, except that now you
Overlook even more than you did before;
And these ignored things come to bury you,
And you are crushed, and your parents
Can’t help anymore, and the woman in the Toyota
Becomes a part of the world that you don’t see.
And now the grain of sand becomes sand again,
And you stand on some mountain road weeping."
— Robert Bly (Morning Poems)
"They wrote to me and said something about it, and I said that if it doesn't involve any work, I'll do it.
(On being named Minnesota's first Poet Laureate)"
— Robert Bly
(On being named Minnesota's first Poet Laureate)"
— Robert Bly
tags:
apathy
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"His large ears
Hear everything
A hermit wakes
And sleeps in a hut
Underneath
His gaunt cheeks.
His eyes blue, alert,
Disappointed,
And suspicious,
Complain I
Do not bring him
The same sort of
Jokes the nurses
Do. He is a bird
Waiting to be fed,—
Mostly beak— an eagle
Or a vulture, or
The Pharoah's servant
Just before death.
My arm on the bedrail
Rests there, relaxed,
With new love. All
I know of the Troubadours
I bring to this bed.
I do not want
Or need to be shamed
By him any longer.
The general of shame
Has discharged
Him, and left him
In this small provincial
Egyptian town.
If I do not wish
To shame him, then
Why not love him?
His long hands,
Large, veined,
Capable, can still
Retain hold of what
He wanted. But
Is that what he
Desireed? Some
Powerful engine
Of desire goes on
Turning inside his body.
He never phrased
What he desired,
And I am
his son."
— Robert Bly (Selected Poems)
Hear everything
A hermit wakes
And sleeps in a hut
Underneath
His gaunt cheeks.
His eyes blue, alert,
Disappointed,
And suspicious,
Complain I
Do not bring him
The same sort of
Jokes the nurses
Do. He is a bird
Waiting to be fed,—
Mostly beak— an eagle
Or a vulture, or
The Pharoah's servant
Just before death.
My arm on the bedrail
Rests there, relaxed,
With new love. All
I know of the Troubadours
I bring to this bed.
I do not want
Or need to be shamed
By him any longer.
The general of shame
Has discharged
Him, and left him
In this small provincial
Egyptian town.
If I do not wish
To shame him, then
Why not love him?
His long hands,
Large, veined,
Capable, can still
Retain hold of what
He wanted. But
Is that what he
Desireed? Some
Powerful engine
Of desire goes on
Turning inside his body.
He never phrased
What he desired,
And I am
his son."
— Robert Bly (Selected Poems)
"Loafing with Friends at Ojo Caliente
Mineral pools remember a lot about history.
Here we are at Ojo Caliente, sitting together,
Soaking up the rumble of earth’s forgetfulness.
Why should we worry if Anna Karenina ends badly?
The world is reborn each time a mouse
Puts her foot down on the dusty barn floor.
Sometimes ohs and ahs bring us joy. When
You place your life inside the vowels, the music
Opens the doors to a hundred closed nights.
People say that even in the highest heaven
If you managed to keep your ears open
You would hear angels weeping night and day.
The culture of the Etruscans has disappeared.
So many things are over. A thousand hopes
F. Scott Fitzgerald had for himself are gone.
No one is as lucky as those who live on earth.
Even the Pope finds himself longing for darkness.
The sun catches on fire in the lonely heavens."
— Robert Bly (My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy: Poems)
Mineral pools remember a lot about history.
Here we are at Ojo Caliente, sitting together,
Soaking up the rumble of earth’s forgetfulness.
Why should we worry if Anna Karenina ends badly?
The world is reborn each time a mouse
Puts her foot down on the dusty barn floor.
Sometimes ohs and ahs bring us joy. When
You place your life inside the vowels, the music
Opens the doors to a hundred closed nights.
People say that even in the highest heaven
If you managed to keep your ears open
You would hear angels weeping night and day.
The culture of the Etruscans has disappeared.
So many things are over. A thousand hopes
F. Scott Fitzgerald had for himself are gone.
No one is as lucky as those who live on earth.
Even the Pope finds himself longing for darkness.
The sun catches on fire in the lonely heavens."
— Robert Bly (My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy: Poems)
"I knew this friendship with myself couldn’t last forever."
— Robert Bly (My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy: Poems)
— Robert Bly (My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy: Poems)
"It’s all right if you grow your wings on the way down."
— Robert Bly (My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy: Poems)
— Robert Bly (My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy: Poems)
"My life failed on the very day I was born."
— Robert Bly (My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy: Poems)
— Robert Bly (My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy: Poems)
"Hiding in a Drop of Water
It is early morning, and death has forgotten us for
A while. Darkness owns the house, but I am alive.
I am ready to praise all the great musicians.
Whatever happens to me will also happen to you.
Surely you must have realized this from hearing
The way the strings cry out no matter who hits them.
From the great oak trees in the yard in October,
Leaves fall for hours each day. Every night
A thousand wrinkled faces look up at the stars.
Still we know that at any second the soul can stand
Up and start across the desert, as when Rabia ended up
Riding on a resurrected donkey toward the Meeting.
It is this reaching toward the Kaaba that keeps us glad.
It is this way of hiding inside a drop of water
That lets the hidden face become visible to everyone.
Gautama said that when the Great Ferris Wheel
Stops turning, you will still be way up
There, swinging in your seat and laughing."
— Robert Bly (My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy: Poems)
It is early morning, and death has forgotten us for
A while. Darkness owns the house, but I am alive.
I am ready to praise all the great musicians.
Whatever happens to me will also happen to you.
Surely you must have realized this from hearing
The way the strings cry out no matter who hits them.
From the great oak trees in the yard in October,
Leaves fall for hours each day. Every night
A thousand wrinkled faces look up at the stars.
Still we know that at any second the soul can stand
Up and start across the desert, as when Rabia ended up
Riding on a resurrected donkey toward the Meeting.
It is this reaching toward the Kaaba that keeps us glad.
It is this way of hiding inside a drop of water
That lets the hidden face become visible to everyone.
Gautama said that when the Great Ferris Wheel
Stops turning, you will still be way up
There, swinging in your seat and laughing."
— Robert Bly (My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy: Poems)
"Every noon as the clock hands arrive at twelve,
I want to tie the two arms together,
And walk out of the bank carrying time in bags."
— Robert Bly (The Night Abraham Called to the Stars: Poems)
I want to tie the two arms together,
And walk out of the bank carrying time in bags."
— Robert Bly (The Night Abraham Called to the Stars: Poems)
"The Way the Parrot Learns
I’m afraid to talk to you about my little toe,
Because I know that it will never agree to fasting.
The only ally I have is the sole of my foot.
We all live close to our greedy souls.
We have inherited so many longings
That in the other world our name is “So Many.”
One teaspoon of envy was enough for me
To attack Robert Lowell; with a tablespoon
I could have taken on Henry James and Abelard.
Trainers once placed a parrot before a mirror,
And a man behind. The parrot, assuming
A parrot was speaking, would learn to talk.
Perhaps if God would put up a mirror
And sit behind it, and talk, I could believe
That those words of mercy were coming from me.
Why should the rooster go over every detail
Of his beheading? Let’s leave some darkness
Around those days when danced in the road."
— Robert Bly (The Night Abraham Called to the Stars: Poems)
I’m afraid to talk to you about my little toe,
Because I know that it will never agree to fasting.
The only ally I have is the sole of my foot.
We all live close to our greedy souls.
We have inherited so many longings
That in the other world our name is “So Many.”
One teaspoon of envy was enough for me
To attack Robert Lowell; with a tablespoon
I could have taken on Henry James and Abelard.
Trainers once placed a parrot before a mirror,
And a man behind. The parrot, assuming
A parrot was speaking, would learn to talk.
Perhaps if God would put up a mirror
And sit behind it, and talk, I could believe
That those words of mercy were coming from me.
Why should the rooster go over every detail
Of his beheading? Let’s leave some darkness
Around those days when danced in the road."
— Robert Bly (The Night Abraham Called to the Stars: Poems)
"The Way the Parrot Learns
I’m afraid to talk to you about my little toe,
Because I know that it will never agree to fasting.
The only ally I have is the sole of my foot.
We all live close to our greedy souls.
We have inherited so many longings
That in the other world our name is “So Many.”
One teaspoon of envy was enough for me
To attack Robert Lowell; with a tablespoon
I could have taken on Henry James and Abelard.
Trainers once placed a parrot before a mirror,
And a man behind. The parrot, assuming
A parrot was speaking, would learn to talk.
Perhaps if God would put up a mirror
And sit behind it, and talk, I could believe
That those words of mercy were coming from me.
Why should the rooster go over every detail
Of his beheading? Let’s leave some darkness
Around those days when danced in the road."
— Robert Bly (The Night Abraham Called to the Stars: Poems)
I’m afraid to talk to you about my little toe,
Because I know that it will never agree to fasting.
The only ally I have is the sole of my foot.
We all live close to our greedy souls.
We have inherited so many longings
That in the other world our name is “So Many.”
One teaspoon of envy was enough for me
To attack Robert Lowell; with a tablespoon
I could have taken on Henry James and Abelard.
Trainers once placed a parrot before a mirror,
And a man behind. The parrot, assuming
A parrot was speaking, would learn to talk.
Perhaps if God would put up a mirror
And sit behind it, and talk, I could believe
That those words of mercy were coming from me.
Why should the rooster go over every detail
Of his beheading? Let’s leave some darkness
Around those days when danced in the road."
— Robert Bly (The Night Abraham Called to the Stars: Poems)
"Wherever there is water there is someone drowning."
— Robert Bly (The Night Abraham Called to the Stars: Poems)
— Robert Bly (The Night Abraham Called to the Stars: Poems)
"The candle is not lit
To give light, but to testify to the night."
— Robert Bly (The Night Abraham Called to the Stars: Poems)
To give light, but to testify to the night."
— Robert Bly (The Night Abraham Called to the Stars: Poems)
"Listening
The goose cries, and there is no way to save her.
So many cheeps come from the nest by the river.
If God doesn’t listen, why are we listening?
Very deep water covers most of the globe.
Whenever I see it, I think of St. John.
There is no remedy for deep water but listening.
The King and Queen already know about love;
They search for each other through the whole deck.
While we play our hands, they are listening.
The day we die, we’ll each be like the fish
Abruptly jerked out of the water.
For him, it is the end of all listening.
Like thousands of others, I’m eating beet soup
In some Russian inn. People write letters
To me from heaven, but I’m not listening.
The hermit said: “Because the world is mad,
The only way through the world is to learn
The arts and double the madness. Are you listening?”"
— Robert Bly (The Night Abraham Called to the Stars: Poems)
The goose cries, and there is no way to save her.
So many cheeps come from the nest by the river.
If God doesn’t listen, why are we listening?
Very deep water covers most of the globe.
Whenever I see it, I think of St. John.
There is no remedy for deep water but listening.
The King and Queen already know about love;
They search for each other through the whole deck.
While we play our hands, they are listening.
The day we die, we’ll each be like the fish
Abruptly jerked out of the water.
For him, it is the end of all listening.
Like thousands of others, I’m eating beet soup
In some Russian inn. People write letters
To me from heaven, but I’m not listening.
The hermit said: “Because the world is mad,
The only way through the world is to learn
The arts and double the madness. Are you listening?”"
— Robert Bly (The Night Abraham Called to the Stars: Poems)
