Waiting for Billy Collins
Somewhere in the house
He is chasing a blind mouse
With a carving knife.
He'll mince it into words
And the pauses he has heard
In his head.
The caesuras, he would say
In his professeuric way,
Tell us how it should be read.
Still, he's flying round the room,
Chasing mice without a broom
Trading verses with the dead
Till he leaves this worthy cause,
Takes a breath and takes a pause,
Fills the silences we've heard
With a poet's every word.
This is so beautiful! Thank you for the dance and especially for revealing yourself, one poem at a time :-)
ReplyDeleteHoping no one is seriously reading your comments as I don't want to offend sensibilities ... I believe you are wearing the loveliest gown of all!
ReplyDeleteThe pauses are where the loudness of intent comes through. Hope you made it to the ball and the murderous cat took a break for a day.
ReplyDeleteWhy Helen - I'm offended. Giggle. I happen to agree though.
ReplyDeleteKaren - this is another fabulous poem - I wonder what his words would be?
This is delightful...and I so enjoyed chatting with your date...thank you for making the Willow Manor Ball 2011 so enjoyable...
ReplyDeleteTess's ball was fun. Loving Billy Collins is fun. Being friends with all of you and playing in Blogland is fun. Thanks, my friends.
ReplyDelete