Tag Archives: Poetry
Billy Collins: Everyday moments caught in time
The left hand
I am a fan of the poetry of Billy Collins. The following stanza is from a poem titled Piano Lessons
I am learning to play
“It Might As Well Be Spring”
but my left hand would rather be jingling
the change in the darkness of my pocket
or taking a nap on an armrest.
I have to drag him in to the music
like a difficult and neglected child.
This is the revenge of the one who never gets
to hold the pen or wave good-bye,
and now, who never gets to play the melody.
My First Poem
George Bush is the small boy
you shooed out of your yard
He smiles as he leaves because
he killed your cat and hid it
under your house
and you won’t know until it smells
and it pleases him
that you will know
On the head of a pin
“…perhaps the answer is simply one:
one female angel dancing alone in her stocking feet,
a small jazz combo working in the background.
Poet Billy Collins‘ answer to the philosopher’s question (from Questions About Angles)