April 17, 2015
The Revenant by Billy Collins
I am the dog you put to sleep,
as you like to call the needle of oblivion,
come back to tell you this simple thing:
I never liked you – not one bit.
When I licked your face,
I thought of biting off your nose.
When I watched you toweling yourself dry,
I wanted to leap and unman you with a snap.
April 2, 2015
Cheerios by Billy Collins
One bright morning in a restaurant in Chicago
as I waited for my eggs and toast,
I opened the Tribune only to discover
that I was the same age as Cheerios.
Indeed, I was a few months older than Cheerios
for today, the newspaper announced
was the seventieth birthday of Cheerios
whereas mine had occurred earlier in the year.
Already I could hear them whispering
behind my stooped and threadbare back,
Why that dude’s older than Cheerios
the way they used to say
Why that’s as old as the hills,
only the hills are much older than Cheerios
or any American breakfast cereal,
and more noble and enduring are the hills,
I surmised as a bar of sunlight illuminated my orange juice.
This poem was selected by Kate K. (North Branch)
January 21, 2014
Former U.S. poet laureate Billy Collins sold his papers to the Harry Ransom Center at the University of Texas at Austin. The archive contains notebooks, doodles, clippings, and drafts of published and unpublished poems, as well as correspondence, recordings, and diaries. Mr. Collins decided to sell his papers after realizing how much material he had, including lines of a poem written on the backs of bank deposit slips. “I tried to look very serious as if I were making a monster deposit,” he said. You can read the rest of this NYT article here – and check the EPL catalog for works by this popular and prolific poet.
Laura
April 15, 2011
Forgetfulness by Billy Collins
July 12, 2010
To check out some poems by Billy Collins, former Poet Laureate of the United States, that have been set to animation, go to the Billy Collins action poetry.
(M. Boylan, Reader’s Services)
April 18, 2010
Class Picture, 1954 by Billy Collins
I am the third one
from the left in the third row.
The girl I have been in love with
since the 5th grade is just behind me
to the right, the one with the bangs.
The boy who pushes me down
in the playground
is the last one on the left in the top row.
And my friend Paul is the second one
in the second row, the one
with his collar sticking out, next to the teacher.
But that’s not all-
if you look carefully you can see
our house in the background
with its porch and its brick chimney
and up in the clouds
you can see the faces of my parents.
and over there, off to the side,
Superman is balancing
a green car over his head with one hand.
This poem was selected by Shira S. (Reader’s Services)
April 11, 2010
Forgetfulness by Billy Collins
The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read, never
even heard of,
as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones. Continue reading “National Poetry Month: April 11th”
