Starting a Poem

You're alone. Then there's a knock
On the door. It's a word. You
Bring it in. Things go
OK for a while. But this word


Has relatives. Soon
They turn up. None of them work.
They sleep on the floor, and they steal
Your tennis shoes.


You started it; you weren't
Content to leave things alone.
Now the den is a mess, and the
Remote is gone.


That's what writing a poem
Is like! You never receive your
Wife only . . . but the
Madness of her family.


It's good. Otherwise
We could get what
We want in a poem
And the world would end.

Read 5 more Bly poems

Read an interview with Robert Bly

Listen to a poetry reading by Robert Bly

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