Robert Creeley Short Poems
Famous Short Robert Creeley Poems. Short poetry by famous poet Robert Creeley. A collection of the all-time best Robert Creeley short poems
by
Robert Creeley
She stood at the window.
There was
a sound, a light.
She stood at the window.
A face.
Was it that she was looking for,
he thought.
Was it that
she was looking for.
He said,
turn from it, turn
from it.
The pain is
not unpainful.
Turn from it.
The act of her anger, of
the anger she felt then,
not turning to him.
by
Robert Creeley
You send me your poems,
I'll send you mine.
Things tend to awaken
even through random communication
Let us suddenly
proclaim spring.
And jeer
at the others,
all the others.
I will send a picture too
if you will send me one of you.
by
Robert Creeley
Seeing is believing.
Whatever was thought or said,
these persistent, inexorable deaths
make faith as such absent,
our humanness a question,
a disgust for what we are.
Whatever the hope,
here it is lost.
Because we coveted our difference,
here is the cost.
by
Robert Creeley
My lady
fair with
soft
arms, what
can I say to
you-words, words
as if all
worlds were there.
by
Robert Creeley
As I was walking
I came upon
chance walking
the same road upon.
As I sat down
by chance to move
later
if and as I might,
light the wood was,
light and green,
and what I saw
before I had not seen.
It was a lady
accompanied
by goat men
leading her.
Her hair held earth.
Her eyes were dark.
A double flute
made her move.
"O love,
where are you
leading
me now?"
by
Robert Creeley
What I took in my hand
grew in weight.
You must
understand it
was not obscene.
Night comes.
We sleep.
Then if you know what
say it.
Don't pretend.
Guises are
what enemies wear.
You
and I live
in a prayer.
Helpless.
Helpless,
should I speak.
Would you.
What do you think of me.
No woman ever was,
was wiser
than you.
None is
more true.
But fate, love, fate
scares me.
What
I took in my hand
grows in weight.
by
Robert Creeley
The words are a beautiful music.
The words bounce like in water.
Water music,
loud in the clearing
off the boats,
birds, leaves.
They look for a place
to sit and eat--
no meaning,
no point.
by
Robert Creeley
America, you ode for reality!
Give back the people you took.
Let the sun shine again
on the four corners of the world
you thought of first but do not
own, or keep like a convenience.
People are your own word, you
invented that locus and term.
Here, you said and say, is
where we are.
Give back
what we are, these people you made,
us, and nowhere but you to be.
by
Robert Creeley
Whereas the man who hits
the gong dis-
proves it, in all its
simplicity --
Even so the attempt
makes for triumph, in
another man.
Likewise in love I
am not foolish or in-
competent.
My method is not a
tenderness, but hope
defined.
by
Robert Creeley
My love's manners in bed
are not to be discussed by me,
as mine by her
I would not credit comment upon gracefully.
Yet I ride by the margin of that lake in
the wood, the castle,
and the excitement of strongholds;
and have a small boy's notion of doing good.
Oh well, I will say here,
knowing each man,
let you find a good wife too,
and love her as hard as you can.
by
Robert Creeley
As I sd to my
friend, because I am
always talking,--John, I
sd, which was not his
name, the darkness sur-
rounds us, what
can we do against
it, or else, shall we &
why not, buy a goddamn big car,
drive, he sd, for
christ's sake, look
out where yr going.
by
Robert Creeley
for Mark Peters
Not just nothing,
Not there's no answer,
Not it's nowhere or
Nothing to show for it -
It's like There's no past like
the present.
It's
all over with us.
There are no doors.
.
.
Oh my god! Like
I wish I had a dog.
Oh my god!
I had a dog but he's gone.
His name was Zero,
something for nothing!
You like dog biscuits?
Fill in the blank.
by
Robert Creeley
The thing comes
of itself
(Look up
to see
the cat & the squirrel,
the one
torn, a red thing,
& the other
somehow immaculate
by
Robert Creeley
For love-I would
split open your head and put
a candle in
behind the eyes.
Love is dead in us
if we forget
the virtues of an amulet
and quick surprise.
by
Robert Creeley
Looking to the sea, it is a line
of unbroken mountains.
It is the sky.
It is the ground.
There
we live it, on it.
It is a mist
now tangent to another
quiet.
Here the leaves
come, there
is the rock in evidence
or evidence.
What I come to do
is partial, partially kept.
by
Robert Creeley
Having begun in thought there
in that factual embodied wonder
what was lost in the emptied lovers
patience and mind I first felt there
wondered again and again what for
myself so meager and finally singular
despite all issued therefrom whether
sister or mother or brother and father
come to love's emptied place too late
to feel it again see again first there
all the peculiar wet tenderness the care
of her for whom to be other was first fate.