While I was looking up information about prose poetry, I came across a prose poet by the name of Robert Bly. Bly co-founded American Writers Against the Vietnam War and actually led much of the opposition among writers to the Vietnam War, which I found to be interesting. According to his website, he has written quite a few books of poetry. I read a few of his poems and found that I really enjoyed them. One in particular that I liked:
Driving toward the Lac Qui Parle River
BY ROBERT BLY
I
I am driving; it is dusk; Minnesota.
The stubble field catches the last growth of sun.
The soybeans are breathing on all sides.
Old men are sitting before their houses on car seats
In the small towns. I am happy,
The moon rising above the turkey sheds.
II
The small world of the car
Plunges through the deep fields of the night,
On the road from Willmar to Milan.
This solitude covered with iron
Moves through the fields of night
Penetrated by the noise of crickets.
III
Nearly to Milan, suddenly a small bridge,
And water kneeling in the moonlight.
In small towns the houses are built right on the ground;
The lamplight falls on all fours on the grass.
When I reach the river, the full moon covers it.
A few people are talking, low, in a boat.
I found Bly's poetry on the following sites:
http://www.robertbly.com/index.html
http://ebbs.english.vt.edu/olp/gs/1.2/bushell.html
Saturday, February 27, 2010
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I like this but it uses line breaks. This qualifies it as a regular poem. Alas. Can you find another? AQ
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