Some Time Bye and Bye

Beat Generation Poetry Tributes


In a year that has already been rife with the passing of several writers, I'm sad to report that poet Robert Creeley passed away this morning after becoming very ill with pneumonia. I had the pleasure of interviewing him early last year, and we corresponded a little bit after that. He was definitely an important figure in American poetry, but from the little I got to know of him through the interview and subsequent e-mails, he seemed to be a really cool guy with a genuine interest in online writing and publishing and encouraging young writers.

He was kind enough to write a poem for our 24 Hour Poetry Party, which I'll put up here. It seems especially poignant today.

Bye and Bye
Faded in face of apparent reality -
As it comes, I see it still goes on and on.
and even now still sitting at this table
is the smiling man who nobody seems to know.

Older, the walls apparently get higher.
No one seemingly gets to look over
to see the people pointing at the sky
where the old planes used to fly over.

I packed my own reality in a bag
and pushed it under the table,
thinking to retrieve it when able
some time bye and bye.
12 Responses to "Some Time Bye and Bye"

by WIREMAN on

I Listened to Your LifeRobert Creeley I listenedto your life on NPR nottoo long ago.The talk being about the nottoo much money and the not toolong poems and your early life.I always spelt your name wrong never wondered why.Your book of poems with picturesof Marisol sculptures is a valued treasure.The mere fact of your Black Mountainschool connection reinforced yourlegend.Yet what really get's me is the simplicity and sincerity of your poems.I will miss knowing you are out there, shining star from a distant time.

by judih. on

tsunami of lifethe wave comesthunderearth movesthen waters recedetaking another one

by judih. on

Just re-read your interview with Robert Creeley, jamelah, and it's truly amazing to feel the energy he imparted to you about writers, finding the 'golden ears' to encourage expression and his attitude about net publishing.Sad. It's up to us to fill the void.

by Billectric on

Beautiful PoemThanks for sharing Creely's poem Bye and Bye with us. What a great poem, what a great writer. He will be missed.I hope it's not out of place to share another poem, this one by Henry Wordsworth Longfellow, called Nature:As a fond mother, when the day is o'er,Leads by the hand her little child to bed,Half willing, half reluctant to be led,And leave his broken playthings on the floor,Still gazing at them through the open door,Nor wholly reassured and comfortedBy promises of others in their stead,Which, though more splendid, may not please him more;So nature deals with us, and takes awayOur playthings one by one, and by the handLeads us to rest so gently, that we goScarce knowing if we wish to go or stay,Being too full of sleep to understandHow far the unknown transcends the what we know. - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

by misike on

for creeleyyou always could zero indig deep placesa kernel,a gemstone,your words polished and fine.takes me to a place ihave never been.the gift of you will stay with me until breath leaves my placeto the others.

by Arcadia on

bye byesome other placesome other timethe returnthe derivathe nowbags & tables(leather bags, wooden tables)goddam big cars (yes, why not)gifts & lovelovethe returnthe deriva (precious talking sur-round usautumn clothed planes)

by databirds on

Bob CreeleyI often wonder what drew me to Bolinas in 1971, what wise and mischevious misfire of the currents and eddies of fate put me in that house on the mesa for seven years. Had I known that Bob Creeley and Bobbie Louise, Joanne Kyger and Tom Clark, Louis and Phoebe MacAdams and the other poets lived there, that Allen often visited, that the poets had just bought their own press, it might have--but I didn't. I simply turned the wrong way in a rain storm on my way to Mendocino and ended up there. Within months, I moved there from New York and stayed seven years.The Creeleys moved from the red house in town to the big white house where Bobbi enlarged the kitchen and held dinner parties. We got to know each other well in the small community, as neighbors, as writers and as souls. I have more on my blog, Crackpot Chronicles, http://ellensander.com/crackpot.html. Please visit and leave a comment on my memoriam to Robert Creeley. For Love.

by Steve Plonk on

Dream Sequence: For Robert CreeleyPen to paper, fingers to keyboard, No matter how you cut it,You may write down your own thoughts,Just as Robert Creeley inspires,Just as thoughts are going out of style-Linger on the screen awhile,Retrieve it later.Make that notebook last-Inspire new words,Start out slow, end up fast,Or start out fast & end up slow-No matter how you trim it,Or spin it,Or thread it-The stylus keeps on flowingWith the momentum-You press your thoughts onto paperOr blog on the screen.Keep scanning the screen & horizonsOn the edge of your thinkingFor more discussionOn the Cliff hangingEdge of consciousness...* * * We are within the continuumThe new nectar flow of conscience of humankind-Who is it we see within our mind's eye today?Robert Creeley... His "Windows" are our shared windows...The future is wonderfully seen through mind's windows--Rainbow colored glass of the poet's extra perception--Light behind the mind's windows are Projected out into the world for all to seeFlowing like astral vapor or water,Wine, or nectar into the stream of the One.We are finding our way of expanding Long distance viewing even in our sleep...Page Two (2)Finding out that inner spaceIs as large as outer space,Like in Robert Creeley's "Windows"-Existence simply flows in many directions-Macrocosm is glimpsed as Well as Microcosm-Inner space is as large as outer space...Just a partial view of dream reflection...Useful technique to heed critique...* * *Channeling my vision onward towardMicrocosm & glimpse the silverEdge of dreams which projectColors and scents, sights and emotion,Blending into a big ball of wax,Which rolls me once more into a flaming wheel,I see the "golden door"!I see the "golden door"!Then losing consciousness of lucid dreamingI fall into deeper sleep...I don't know what day it isSeems like a Thursday...Nice to be channeled transportationBy Robert Creeley, who inspired Transformation of my muse.Good luck, Robert Creeley, on your journey to the One.It is a "galactic highway" we all must travel-Certainty has arrived home,All is changed, as a one-eyed soulful poet channelsMe forward even more than both my two eyes can see--Even though he be dead, so shall he travel on.Open Great Gates for the soul of Robert Creeley!

by Billectric on

Wow! Good one, Steve Plonk. Sweet.

by Billectric on

I love your website but I can't seem to get onto the guestbook. I don't know which I like more - the Jimi Hendrix story, the poem "Get Lost", the article "How We Dumped the War" by David Herres, the photo of you and Bill Graham, or the photo of John & Yoko at the Toronto Peace Concert. But I think what I like best is your statement that, while the 60's were a great time to live, the present is also a great time!

by ARAHH on

Memento Mori - a carpe diem by Robert Creeleythat touched me in its (yes !) simplicity and that i always carry in my notebook,from Histoire de Florida, in 'Life and Death':with that characteristic great balance of only seemingly naive word chains, finely adjusted into several synchronized tunes that take (more and more (sub-))shape(s) if You read the words just as they are placed - his way to give a message as a fatherly friend like his looks in the photograph with the umbrella, views, steps, touch -perhaps a Black Mountain Beat way that IS better suited for survivalbut nonetheless clear, for us, to live now: You're therestill behindthe mirror,brother face (sister).Only yesterdayyou were younger, now you look old.Come outwhile there's still timeleftto play.

by rain70 on

in....visibleyou holdyour heart, Iholdmine.funnyworldsfunnywordsseriousmindsseriousminds wherehistoryand systemcombineto minescenerygreenerygreytodaybrightlycoloredtomorrowknewdidn'tno