Poetry Breaks: Robert Bly Reads "Winter Poem"

[@bredamaune2028]

A brilliant, insightful poem.

[@bburskey33]

I want to see more of these poems by Robert Bly from this recording session. Are there more?

[@MaryKingsley-py4js]

No more. And he is gone...

[@TheLozissou]

What a marvelous, silent-speaking, just apparently cold interpretation!

[@halsie66]

RIP

[@littoy]

Winter Poem The quivering wings of the winter ant wait for lean winter to end. I love you in slow, dim-witted ways, hardly speaking, one or two words only. What caused us to live hidden? A wound, the wind, a word, a parent. Sometimes we wait in a helpless way, awkwardly, not whole and not healed. When we hid the wound, we fell back from a human to a shelled life. Now we feel the ant’s hard chest, the carapace, the silent tongue. This must be the way of the ant, the winter ant, the way of those who are wounded and want to live: to breathe, to sense another, and to wait.

[@Beatboxerskills]

thought he was saying "ant" the whole time

[@thibaultcseko3477]

Isn't it what he's saying?

[@Beatboxerskills]

@@thibaultcseko3477 ahh i thought he was saying "end"

[@juventusventuno9213]

The quivering wings of the winter ant wait for lean winter to end. I love you in slow, dim-witted ways, hardly speaking, one or two words only. What caused us to live hidden? A wound, the wind, a word, a parent. Sometimes we wait in a helpless way, awkwardly, not whole and not healed. When we hid the wound, we fell back from a human to a shelled life. Now we feel the ant’s hard chest, the carapace, the silent tongue. This must be the way of the ant, the winter ant, the way of those who are wounded and want to live: to breathe, to sense another, and to wait. ― Robert Bly, in Eating the Honey of Words