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Best Famous Robert Bly Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Robert Bly poems. This is a select list of the best famous Robert Bly poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Robert Bly poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Robert Bly poems.

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by Robert Bly |

The Hermit

Darkness is falling through darkness 
Falling from ledge
To ledge.
There is a man whose body is perfectly whole.
He stands the storm behind him 
And the grass blades are leaping in the wind.
Darkness is gathered in folds
About his feet.
He is no one. When we see
Him we grow calm 
And sail on into the tunnels of joyful death.


by Robert Bly |

Looking into a Face

Conversation brings us so close! Opening
The surfs of the body 
Bringing fish up near the sun 
And stiffening the backbones of the sea!

I have wandered in a face for hours 
Passing through dark fires.
I have risen to a body
Not yet born 
Existing like a light around the body
Through which the body moves like a sliding moon.


by Robert Bly |

Counting Small-boned Bodies

Let's count the bodies over again.

If we could only make the bodies smaller 
The size of skulls 
We could make a whole plain white with skulls in the moonlight!

If we could only make the bodies smaller 
Maybe we could get
A whole year's kill in front of us on a desk!

If we could only make the bodies smaller 
We could fit
A body into a finger-ring for a keepsake forever.


by Robert Bly |

After Long Busyness

I start out for a walk at last after weeks at the desk.
Moon gone plowing underfoot no stars; not a trace of light!
Suppose a horse were galloping toward me in this open field?
Every day I did not spend in solitude was wasted.


by Robert Bly |

Watering the Horse

How strange to think of giving up all ambition!
Suddenly I see with such clear eyes
The white flake of snow
That has just fallen in the horse's mane!


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.


by Robert Bly |

In a Train

There has been a light snow.
Dark car tracks move in out of the darkness.
I stare at the train window marked with soft dust.
I have awakened at Missoula Montana utterly happy.


by Robert Bly |

Snowfall in the Afternoon

1

The grass is half-covered with snow.
It was the sort of snowfall that starts in late afternoon 
And now the little houses of the grass are growing dark.

2

If I reached my hands down near the earth 
I could take handfuls of darkness!
A darkness was always there which we never noticed.

3

As the snow grows heavier the cornstalks fade farther away 
And the barn moves nearer to the house.
The barn moves all alone in the growing storm.

4

The barn is full of corn and moves toward us now 
Like a hulk blown toward us in a storm at sea;
All the sailors on deck have been blind for many years.


by Robert Bly |

Poems in Three Parts

1

Oh on an early morning I think I shall live forever!
I am wrapped in my joyful flesh 
As the grass is wrapped in its clouds of green.

2

Rising from a bed where I dreamt
Of long rides past castles and hot coals 
The sun lies happily on my knees;
I have suffered and survived the night
Bathed in dark water like any blade of grass.

3

The strong leaves of the box-elder tree 
Plunging in the wind call us to disappear
Into the wilds of the universe 
Where we shall sit at the foot of a plant 
And live forever like the dust.


by Robert Bly |

Waking from Sleep

Inside the veins there are navies setting forth 
Tiny explosions at the water lines 
And seagulls weaving in the wind of the salty blood.

It is the morning. The country has slept the whole winter.
Window seats were covered with fur skins the yard was full
Of stiff dogs and hands that clumsily held heavy books.

Now we wake and rise from bed and eat breakfast!-
Shouts rise from the harbor of the blood 
Mist and masts rising the knock of wooden tackle in the sunlight.

Now we sing and do tiny dances on the kitchen floor.
Our whole body is like a harbor at dawn;
We know that our master has left us for the day.