#Robert Bly

[tamsoj]

Robert Bly, "Depression," from A Mind Apart: Poems of Melancholy, Madness, and Addiction

[othellho]

Robert Bly, from Poems on the Underground

[havingapoemwithyou]

the teapot by Robert Bly

[asoftepiloguemylove]

to be loved is to be changed

Haruki Murakami South of the Border, West of the Sun // Robert Bly In the Month of May // Ocean Vuong On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous // art: unknown quote: Fyodor Dostoeyevsky The Brothers Karamazov // @x2s (via @llovelymoonn) // Bianca Sparacino // Noah Kahan You're Gonna Go Far // Katja Kemnitz Too Much Love // Charlotte Eriksson Everything Changed When I Forgave Myself

[mournfulroses]

Miguel Hernández, tr. by Robert Bly, from Selected Poems; “Before Hatred, Thirsting,”

[julesofnature]

 “To be wild is not to be crazy or psychotic. True wildness is a love of nature, a delight in silence, a voice free to say spontaneous things, and an exuberant curiosity in the face of the unknown.” ~Robert Bly

[the-hearth-and-the-wild]

The joy of being alone, eating the honey of words.

Robert Bly, excerpt from "It's As If Someone Else Is With Me"

[geopsych]

“It is not our job to remain whole.

We came to lose our leaves

Like the trees, and be born again,

Drawing up from the great roots.”

—Robert Bly

[daweyt]

Robert Bly, from “A Mind Apart: Poems of Melancholy, Madness, and Addiction; ‘Depression’”, edited by Mark S. Bauer.

[apoemaday]

The Night Abraham Called to the Stars

by Robert Bly

Do you remember the night Abraham first saw The stars? He cried to Saturn: “You are my Lord!” How happy he was! When he saw the Dawn Star, He cried, “You are my Lord!” How destroyed he was When he watched them set. Friends, he is like us: We take as our Lord the stars that go down. We are faithful companions to the unfaithful stars. We are diggers, like badgers; we love to feel The dirt flying out from behind our back claws. And no one can convince us that mud is not Beautiful. It is our badger soul that thinks so. We are ready to spend the rest of our life Walking with muddy shoes in the wet fields. We resemble exiles in the kingdom of the serpent. We stand in the onion fields looking up at the night. My heart is a calm potato by day, and a weeping Abandoned woman by night. Friend, tell me what to do, Since I am a man in love with the setting stars.

[metamorphesque]

poems that remind me of monet’s paintings 

Monet's Haystacks by Robert Bly

Monet's Waterlilies by Robert Hayden

Entering the Kingdom by Mary Oliver

Give Me Your Hand by Gabriela Mistral

Flower-Gathering by Robert Frost

Water and Flowers by Ameen Rihani

Early Spring by Rainer Maria Rilke

Notebook Fragments by Ocean Vuong

[The flowers and my love,] by Ono no Komachi

Love Song by Rainer Maria Rilke

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

the poem is a dream telling you its time by Marwa Helal

Morning Poem by Mary Oliver

The Spring Has Many Silences by Laura Riding Jackson

When Spring by Alberto Caeiro

buy me a coffee

[lunchboxpoems]

WHEN MY DEAD FATHER CALLED

Last night I dreamt my father called to us.

He was stuck somewhere. It took us

A long time to dress, I don't know why.

The night was snowy; there were long black roads.

Finally, we reached the little town, Bellingham.

There he stood, by a streetlamp in cold wind,

Snow blowing along the sidewalk. I noticed

The uneven sort of shoes that men wore

In the early Forties. And overalls. He was smoking.

Why did it take us so long to get going? Perhaps

He left us somewhere once, or did I simply

Forget he was alone in winter in some town?

ROBERT BLY

[majestativa]

Absence knifes open my heart.

— Mirabai, Mirabai: Ecstatic Poems, transl by Robert Bly & Jane Hirshfield, (2004)

[havingapoemwithyou]

in the month of May by Robert Bly

[garadinervi]

Robert Bly, Counting Small-boned Bodies, (broadside), Institute for the Study of Nonviolence, Palo Alto, CA, n.d. [Granary Books, New York, NY. © Robert Bly]

[mournfulroses]

Miguel Hernández, tr. by Robert Bly, from The Selected Poems; "Eternal Darkness,"