Tag Archives: billycollins

A Matter of Poetry

OK people. It’s official. Individual tickets to all our events are now on sale. Woohoo. We can’t wait for everything to get going around Royce Hall. Check out the calendar if you haven’t in a while and see if anything strikes your fancy.

And…speaking of fancy, we’ve added a fancy new spoken word event to the lineup this year—an evening with not one but TWO–count ‘em, TWO–former U.S.  Poets Laureate. (Oh that’s one of those fun word pairings like culs de sac). Two of America’s most lauded poets, Billy Collins and Kay Ryan join our spoken word slate April 23, just in time to celebrate National Poetry Month. (We’ll be calling on you the audience to share some of your own poetry with us around this event as well. More on that in the near future).

I love the way poets wield language, especially poets like Billy Collins who often do it with a slightly tongue-in-cheek style.  I love the way they can inspire us to look at so many different things in a poetic light.

Here’s a fun one from Collins…

Another Reason Why I Don’t Keep A Gun In The House

The neighbors’ dog will not stop barking.

He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark

that he barks every time they leave the house.

They must switch him on on their way out.

The neighbors’ dog will not stop barking.

I close all the windows in the house

and put on a Beethoven symphony full blast

but I can still hear him muffled under the music,

barking, barking, barking,

and now I can see him sitting in the orchestra,

his head raised confidently as if Beethoven

had included a part for barking dog.

When the record finally ends he is still barking,

sitting there in the oboe section barking,

his eyes fixed on the conductor who is

entreating him with his baton

while the other musicians

listen in respectful

silence to the famous barking dog solo,

that endless coda that first established

Beethoven as an innovative genius

I love the musicality of his writing, and how a sense of music often comes into play or directly into the style of the poem. I feel like the world is like that, or at least it SHOULD be like that. Perhaps we should all be listening for those songs, those melodies in all of our moments whether those are moments of quiet and contentment or moments of frustration and hopelessness.

Collins again….

I Ask You

What scene would I want to be enveloped in

more than this one,

an ordinary night at the kitchen table,

floral wallpaper pressing in,

white cabinets full of glass,

the telephone silent,

a pen tilted back in my hand?

It gives me time to think

about all that is going on outside–

leaves gathering in corners,

lichen greening the high grey rocks,

while over the dunes the world sails on,

huge, ocean-going, history bubbling in its wake.

But beyond this table

there is nothing that I need,

not even a job that would allow me to row to work,

or a coffee-colored Aston Martin DB4

with cracked green leather seats.

No, it’s all here,

the clear ovals of a glass of water,

a small crate of oranges, a book on Stalin,

not to mention the odd snarling fish

in a frame on the wall,

and the way these three candles–

each a different height–

are singing in perfect harmony.

So forgive me

if I lower my head now and listen

to the short bass candle as he takes a solo

while my heart

thrums under my shirt–

frog at the edge of a pond–

and my thoughts fly off to a province

made of one enormous sky

and about a million empty branches.

But of course, we can’t all express those thoughts and sounds quite as well as Collins and his cohort Kay Ryan. That’s why we spend evenings listening to people like them, to help us identify the sounds and rhythms inherent in the written word….to open our eyes and hearts and ears to something our own brains might never be able to spontaneously produce in that way. As arts lovers perhaps just experiencing it can be almost as profound as creating it.

Perhaps, just perhaps, poetry matters.

Photo courtesy athena via Flickr.