Details |
Nolan Bly Poem
Nothing stirs
Cut off from the work I knew
Which way
Shall I set out to rescue myself?
Peace
Frantic man, be at peace
Peace
Anxious soul, be at rest.
I am
A soul reunited with its body
I remember
Exactly where I went.
Copyright © Nolan Bly | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Nolan Bly Poem
How surprising to find flesh
Where my heart should be stone
Indeed, it pounds for two loves
Only she is left here to hear it
Yet I’ve swallowed my heart
Even that day when she left
She was so close
And I could say nothing
I obsessively kept every rule
But now what good is caution
If it leaves so much unsaid?
I’ll remember all I didn’t say
If only he were so near
As some measure of miles
But I must measure that distance in years
Maybe 60 or so if I can endure it…
But 800 miles can be covered by post
So I must tell her!
What cowardice has stayed me?
Even knowing how silences linger
I have mended my heart once before
And I promised not to do this again
She lives. I love
I know I must tell her.
Copyright © Nolan Bly | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Nolan Bly Poem
My virtue dissolves in the mirror
I see now no ocean could swell
To contain my incredulous pride
Yet I contrive ends by all means
As if God Himself couldn’t do better
Copyright © Nolan Bly | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Nolan Bly Poem
Coffee
With a splash of cream
Delightful
I lie to myself and say I love the taste
I don’t
It’s alright
Pretty good, even
But I drink it just because
It keeps the day moving anyway
Then my fingertips smell like it
Earthy and dry
The day hasn't gone any faster at all
But it is something to do
Until one day I retire
And then I'll drink coffee for no reason at all
Copyright © Nolan Bly | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Nolan Bly Poem
01/28
Once in a great while the heart is simply struck
And rings out like a tuning fork to the nearby heart that struck it.
The two ring out together in discordant harmony
At first the noise is nothing but a brilliant symphony.
In time the notes come clearer, but this is when you hear
The sharps and flats and missed half-steps which at first endeared
How I wish that I could sing a song you would believe
But I’d not disguise the cracking sound of notes I can’t sustain.
The songs we sing into the world are bright and clear and true,
But you are right, I am afraid, I cannot sing like you.
How I hope that I might somehow match
The soaring high soprano that will surely be your path.
I must be a tenor, not that either is the lesser,
You’ve said the difference means that parting might be better.
I would miss you and I will mourn if no arrangement can be made,
But I think you’ll always strike me from your side of the stage.
Copyright © Nolan Bly | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Nolan Bly Poem
I packed my bag with care
I measured every side
I weighed it on the bathroom scale
I checked it twice and thought -
I better leave that pair of shoes behind
I double checked my ticket
I reviewed my list of stops
I rehearsed my day, from dawn til dusk
I planned it all ahead
I left my house and made my gate
I did it all in record time
I hardly missed a step today
I did pretty good!
Good afternoon sir, ticket please
Absolutely! And how'd’ya do today
Well I’m ok but I’m afraid you cannot board this plane
Come again?
You cannot come aboard, sir
What? Why not? I checked my bag and everything!
Is my suitcase too big? Is my ticket not right? Have I made some mistake?
No.
You’re sure? I can put my bag in the thingy again. It will fit! I promise you.
I am sure you are right sir, but then where will you sit?
Where will I sit? Haven’t you got a plane with seats? I didn’t pay to stand!
Well we just didn’t figure it’d fill up quite like this.
We’re already over by 20, and the rest keep arriving all the time!
THE REST!
You mean you’ve now done this to two dozen souls?
Yep.
Why!?! How!?!
I’m sorry sir, did you want your seat guaranteed?
YES!
I see. Well you have to pay extra for that.
FRONTIER Airlines
Copyright © Nolan Bly | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Nolan Bly Poem
03/24
I have made a grave navigational error
And steered my ship to a sandbar
While I waved my cap and shouted backwards from the helm
Whistling to the shore I just departed
Sailing blind at every turning of the wind was sure to end this way
But my sails were taut and pulling, so blindly off I went
I’ve been too sure of my bearing
And that hers seemed unfixed and waiting
I mourned the day our courses diverged
But now I see she’s surely moving
While I‘ve wrecked myself upon this rocky spit
Watching every passing breeze shred my unyielding sails
I see things clearer than I did before
Even through dewy lashes and a dented spyglass
That she has not ceased rowing onward
Against the very wind that brought me to this moor
How I admire the steady rhythm of her pulling
And how I wish she’d only stop a moment
It’s true her boat could never tow this mainsail
But now I look around me and see my dismal state
Tattered sails and tangled rigging
Rotting boards and splintered railings
If ever I am driven from this sandbar
This ornamental galleon will almost assuredly nose under
Yesterday I looked away to take a bearing
And I saw beyond my taffrail for the first time in a while
There was nothing to be seen
Only imagined promise somewhere beyond the horizon
If somehow I can hold this ship together
I’ll die having met my unknown fortune there
Or I could set to swimming
Hard away from the wreck I’ve coaxed this far
The galleon which I proudly drove
And leave behind my vain prancing to and fro
See how steady she rows
Eyes set firm over her horizon on a promise she absolutely knows
The gulf is wide but not yet too vast
I could swim to her in time
And pray with all my heart and soul
That a bench remains on her humble skiff
Now I’ve made myself ready to leap from the rail
I’ll surely drown if she doesn’t take me aboard
Copyright © Nolan Bly | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Nolan Bly Poem
06/11
My roommate says that I am a bull
My spirit animal, my innermost essence
More like an ox that pulls a wagon, he says
But a bit like a toro as well
I hadn’t thought about it much
But I see things his way more and more
He thinks so much about everything
Deeply. Quietly. Like a raven
And she, I think, is a bluebird
Fluttering here to there
Resting only moments
Before stirring back to flight
How strange that she rests on the swell of his back
And stays slow beside him
Flying ahead and then circling back
Flying behind and catching back up
The bluebird knows it in her soul
A migratory instinct
A fixed needle on her compass rose
And will fly there without turning home
The bull draws furrows, steady and sure
Between the green pickets at the edge of his field
He knows every rock and each troublesome hole
And satisfied sighs at each turn of the plow
Along this last southward stretch
A bluebird landed on the fence
And she’s fluttered with the bull from post to post
But quick comes the turnabout and where will she go?
She won’t be turned to the East or the West
And that twinkling reflection she brought to his eye
Will dwindle so quickly once he turns aside
So the bull’s become bridled by this tiny blue bird
I am a bull at my best and my worst
My eyes set so stubbornly on each next thing
I’ve now set my eyes on this bluebird
And would march on beneath her for her to rest again on my back
But no
I cannot fly, try as I might, and you will not plow
Here it seems we’ve made the turn
The yoke of the plow will rest heavier now
Copyright © Nolan Bly | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Nolan Bly Poem
Don’t think about the pink elephant
Dammit!
Being told not to is one thing
Deciding you won’t is entirely another
I must not think about the pink elephant
I simply don’t have time
I’ve got plenty to work on, Lord knows
I really don’t have the time
Not until January at least
When I’m doing a little less
But here I am in August
Daydreaming
How is it that just weeks ago I was fine?
Recovering, maybe, from last time
But now they’re everywhere
Pink elephants
Probably because I told myself not to bother
No surer way to make it so
Suddenly they appear at every turn
How did I miss them before?
A week ago I saw one
Making eyes at another guy
I briefly wanted to kill him
But I spun on my heel and there is another
I need to focus
Or I'll start dropping classes
I realize I haven’t been praying
God, this is miserable
But in January I’ll be done
No more classes
No more volunteering for a while
Just work
And I’m afraid there won’t be any more
Pink elephants
Copyright © Nolan Bly | Year Posted 2026
|