Robert Bly’s poetry and essays for me have always been grist for the mill. He was a great writer and an important Presence in the world. This poem is profoundly beautiful, and deeply representative of his work and being. Thank you.
M.L. Rosenberg, writing in Tribune Books, noted in Bly’s work a blending of European and South American influences with a decidedly American sensibility: “Bly is a genius of the elevated ‘high’ style, in the European tradition of Rilke and Yeats, the lush magical realism of the South Americans like Lorca and Neruda. Yet Bly’s work is truly American, taking its atmosphere of wide empty space from the Midwest, and its unabashed straightforward emotionalism and spiritualism.
After Bly's passing I was stunned at the lack of attention he got. No big anthology, or reprints, or literary fanfare or celebration of his work. Shame on the entire community. Jerez at Easter is proof of that slight, those omissions, I still read the man routinely! Love to all... JJP
Because a genius is a child in the house of suffering.
None of us is free from a certain bend in the knee."
Amazing. No matter what trade or area we may be a master of, we all have an area of vulnerability to match. Keeps us humble in the grand scheme of things.
This poem is good but the tone is monotonous; I think it indulges the "woe is me in a strangely beautiful world" vibe too deeply. Rouse yourself, Saturn! one might say. The skies are quite blue and blithe where I'm at. At any rate, I think "Because a child is a genius in the house of suffering" would have made for a more interesting and surprising line. I think it is far more important for a poet to be a child than a genius, too, so it doesn't break the stanza.
EASTER SUNDAY
IN THE HOLY LAND
In the first version
it was described by the translator as a lamentation
but by the third or fourth it had become weeping,
less biblical, more accessible to a modern sensibility
but either way, she wasn’t happy to have lost her family
to the bombing. Husband, babies, the almost-adolescent.
An uncle who was visiting.
The means of murder gifted to her enemies by Western
governments who no longer bother to explain themselves.
What can they say?
Jesus was American, spoke English.
Occasionally, as recompense,
they drop treats by parachute, supplies
in plastic packages, originally intended for astronauts.
Imagine
what it’s like to float in space attached to nothing.
This is an impressive piece of writing, and significant. Thank you.
As fine as anything I've read today! Thank you
cheers!
Robert Bly’s poetry and essays for me have always been grist for the mill. He was a great writer and an important Presence in the world. This poem is profoundly beautiful, and deeply representative of his work and being. Thank you.
M.L. Rosenberg, writing in Tribune Books, noted in Bly’s work a blending of European and South American influences with a decidedly American sensibility: “Bly is a genius of the elevated ‘high’ style, in the European tradition of Rilke and Yeats, the lush magical realism of the South Americans like Lorca and Neruda. Yet Bly’s work is truly American, taking its atmosphere of wide empty space from the Midwest, and its unabashed straightforward emotionalism and spiritualism.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/robert-bly#:~:text=In%201966%2C%20Bly%20cofounded%20American,poetry%2C%20essays%2C%20and%20translations.
Bly takes on a journey to non-duality in a resurrection of the space thats always in between.
After Bly's passing I was stunned at the lack of attention he got. No big anthology, or reprints, or literary fanfare or celebration of his work. Shame on the entire community. Jerez at Easter is proof of that slight, those omissions, I still read the man routinely! Love to all... JJP
A literary and spiritual giant!
"The poet makes a meadow from each leaf.
Each curve of language turns into a lamb’s ear,
Because a genius is a child in the house of suffering.
None of us is free from a certain bend in the knee."
Amazing. No matter what trade or area we may be a master of, we all have an area of vulnerability to match. Keeps us humble in the grand scheme of things.
'please tell me why the lamb is in love with the wolf'
How powerful is his pen.. how deep and cavernous his mind, how tender, raw and alive his soul
Yes! to it all!
Scuba cat, love your handle
Incredible metaphors.
'Risen'
-
dispirited and outgrown
Winter has opened out,
parasolled to Spring
from budded cocoons,
from blooms,
in hazy hints of dress
the confetti leaves tease valour,
of future Greatness
this feels divine, Butterfly
feels like falling
inwards
take my hand now,
cliff edge is bliss, worth the risk
we can fly when we lose our feet
anchor. stop a minute
let's savour this Risen Spring
root ourselves again,
and again
let's keep walking
these steady steps,
we've no business knowing
what out of sight Beauty
is coming next
-
https://theseainme.substack.com/p/risen
This poem is good but the tone is monotonous; I think it indulges the "woe is me in a strangely beautiful world" vibe too deeply. Rouse yourself, Saturn! one might say. The skies are quite blue and blithe where I'm at. At any rate, I think "Because a child is a genius in the house of suffering" would have made for a more interesting and surprising line. I think it is far more important for a poet to be a child than a genius, too, so it doesn't break the stanza.
The Stoning of Saint Stephen
Army.
Be all you can be.
-- U.S. Army
how to submit: fold back your fight
as if fangs or a switchblade: hold tight to your flight
as any tar its rabbit: accept the pain
of stone on skull: fist
on lip: boot on your supine
spine. let the spirit
break
break open. then, with eyes most
worshipful
let go.
What was he doing in Jerez?