My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy
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My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy

by Robert Bly
     
 

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Readers have found Robert Bly's ghazals startling and new; they merge wildness with a beautiful formality.

My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy is Robert Bly's second book of ghazals. The poems have become more intricate and personal than they were in The Night Abraham Called to the Stars, and the leaps even bolder. This book includes the already

Overview

Readers have found Robert Bly's ghazals startling and new; they merge wildness with a beautiful formality.

My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy is Robert Bly's second book of ghazals. The poems have become more intricate and personal than they were in The Night Abraham Called to the Stars, and the leaps even bolder. This book includes the already famous poem against the Iraq War, "Call and Answer": "Tell me why it is we don't lift our voices these days / And cry over what is happening."

The poems are intimate and yet reach out toward the world: the paintings of Robert Motherwell, the intensity of flamenco singers, the sadness of the gnostics, the delight of high spirits and wit. Robert Bly is writing the best poems of his life, and this book reestablishes his position as one of the greatest poets of our era.

Editorial Reviews

John Calvin Rezmerski
“[Robert Bly] brings it all together—integrating erudition, moral concern, introspection and passion.”

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9780060757199
Publisher:
HarperCollins Publishers
Publication date:
05/02/2006
Edition description:
Reprint
Pages:
112
Product dimensions:
5.31(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.25(d)

Read an Excerpt

My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of JoyThe Dark Autumn Nights

Imagination is the door to the raven's house, so we are
Already blessed! The one nail that fell from the shoe
Lit the way for Newton to get home from the Fair.

Last night I heard a thousand holy women
And a thousand holy men apologize at midnight
Because there was too much triumph in their voices.

Those lovers, skinny and badly dressed, hated
By parents, did the work; all through the Middle Ages,
It was the lovers who kept the door open to heaven.

Walking home, we become distracted whenever
We pass apple orchards. We are still eating fruit
Left on the ground the night Adam was born.

St. John of the Cross heard an Arab love poem
Through the bars and began his poem. In Nevada it was
Always the falling horse that discovered the mine.

Robert, you know well how much substance can be
Wasted by lovers, but I say, Blessings on those
Who go home through the dark autumn nights.

My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy. Copyright © by Robert Bly. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

What People are saying about this

John Calvin Rezmerski
“[Robert Bly] brings it all together—integrating erudition, moral concern, introspection and passion.”

Meet the Author

Robert Bly's books of poetry include The Night Abraham Called to the Stars and My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy. His awards include the National Book Award for poetry and two Guggenheims. He lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

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