Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

find me here.


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an awesome, yet unpublished poem by Robert Bly: Call and Answer

my favorite stanza is the one that ends the poem,

Some masters say our life lasts only seven days.
Where are we in the week? Is it Thursday yet?
Hurry, cry now! Soon Sunday night will come.

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poetry at haggard and halloo.

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for the critics
would be patriots
for the southerners
the visionary
and a happy fourth from me.

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Pulling the String

A rebellious marionette,
you have made me,
trained me to respond
the way I do, I did,
and the way I do now,
sitting in the attic,
gathering dust with
time, you, the puppet
master, you, the hand
that would guide, cannot
return to give me life
as you pass by, perhaps
searching for something,
lingering for one moment
too long, for reminiscence.

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The Family Grey

What a day
like today
all rainy
a day like Seattle

On a day like today
¡qué bajón!
¡qué mamada!

It sucks, doesn’t it

A day like today,
it’s real low-down
and dirty, kicking
me when I am down
fighting unfair, daring
me to fight back.
It’s all I can do to
shout back but
I am a pacifist and
we don’t fight, us

But apparently Today
has not heard of
this thing
called “pacifism”
and I will try and
instruct it, and inform –
maybe even hand out a
flyer – and tell him (or her)
that he (or she) must respect
my political beliefs.

I don’t see him going for it.

A day like Today
I saw when I woke up
when I went to work
when I left work
when I went to the subway
when I walked up
out of the subway
the grey
which is grey
which is grey
which is grey
and the sky hangs out
outside my window
out through endless Bushwick until Long Island and still hangs
over the low built houses
over the water
maybe over until London.

They say it rains a lot there too.

Really, I don’t mind
a day like Today.
I was bred on
days like Today –
I left, abandoned
the whole damn
family of days
like Today.
I’m only afraid
that Today will
follow me,
not know
what to do
once I move away.

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