Poem Analysis

Billy Collins' "Horizon"
link to blog with poem

Paraphrase:
A Japanese monk's brush and a pencil stub work equally well when drawing a horizon line, because once the line is drawn a third of the way up a piece of paper it's instantly transformed regardless of medium. You had been sitting in your house, but now you're out in nature in whatever kind of place you draw.

The poem has a pretty simple pattern feel to it: six different stanzas of two lines each. There's no rhyme scheme to latch onto, but he still keeps the stanzas connected enough that it doesn't really detract from the reading or understanding. He uses a lot of imagery involving paper, and art supplies. He contrasts this with a lot of nature imagery, and the whole idea behind this seems to be to try to combine the two. This isn't something that's hard to understand; Billy's poems frequently advocate writing and the arts to be used as a tool to express our wonder and connection with nature.
It's really a simple piece when it comes to vocabulary. I think the hardest word used would have to be elemental, and that's really not a difficult word at all. This reflects Billy's attempts to connect to a larger audience. He doesn't use strictly elevated language so that more people will understand and enjoy his poetry.
Billy's tone, and voice make the poem seem both reverent, and have a almost sad sense of longing.
To answer the question "How are the form and content related in this poem?" simply, they are both very simple. The point of the poem is one of reverence to nature and creativity, and the structure is likewise easily identifiable.

Billy Collins: Bio, and The Art of Drowning

Billy Collins is a contemporary poet who seems to be entirely focused with the wonders of normal occurrences in everyday life. He has enjoyed a particularly successful career –started in 1968-- in the U.S., based out of his home in New York. He is currently a professor at Lehman College. He has garnered many awards from the poetic community, such as the Mark Twain award for humorous poetry; which highlights Mr. Collins’ amusing approach to poetry, and named Poet of the Year by the magazine, “Poetly”. He served two terms as the US Poet Laureate between 2001-2003, and now is the resident Poet Laureate of New York.

“It is not unusual for Collins to have more than one book on the best-seller list of the Poetry Foundation, nor is it strange to find his books among the collections of those who do not normally read poetry.” (Biographies in Context). This is a great example of how American culture treats Billy Collins. He uses good diction without overcomplicating the meaning, or making it difficult to read. He also has an astonishing wit that allows even non-poetry readers to enjoy his works.

            This book, The Art of Drowning, is Billy Collins’ fifth book of poetry. It exemplifies Billy Collins attempts to connect to the reader with a heartwarming appeal right off the bat. Billy utilizes his trademark irony and funny bone while providing consistent laughs throughout. An effort is made to also include reference and homage to many various great minds of the past; Billy’s way of paying respect to those that came before him.

Bibliography of Published Works

·  Pokerface, limited edition, Kenmore, 1977.

·  Video Poems, Applezaba (Long Beach, CA), 1980.

·  The Apple That Astonished Paris, University of Arkansas Press (Fayetteville, AR), 1988.

·  Questions about Angels: Poems, Morrow (New York, NY), 1991.

·  The Art of Drowning, University of Pittsburgh Press (Pittsburgh, PA), 1995.

·  Picnic, Lightning, University of Pittsburgh Press (Pittsburgh, PA), 1998.

·  Taking Off Emily Dickinson's Clothes, Picador (London, England), 2000.

·  The Eye of the Poet: Six Views of the Art and Craft of Poetry, edited by David Citino, Oxford University Press (New York, NY), 2001.

·  Sailing Alone around the Room: New and Selected Poems, Random House (New York, NY), 2001.

·  Nine Horses: Poems, Random House (New York, NY), 2002.

• Daddy's Little Boy (picture book), illustrated by Maggie Kneen, HarperCollins (New York, NY), 2004.
• The Trouble with Poetry and Other Poems, Random House (New York, NY), 2005.
• Design = Diseno, translated by Maria Vargas, illustrated by Carlos Ayress Moreno, Parallel Editions (Tuscaloosa, AL), 2005.
• She Was Just Seventeen, Modern Haiku Press (Lincoln, IL), 2006.
• Ballistics: Poems, Random House (New York, NY), 2008.

Works Cited

Billy Collins .net - Biography, Pictures, Videos, & Quotes. Web. 06 Feb. 2011. <http://billycollins.net/>.

"Billy Collins." The Poetry Foundation : Find Poems and Poets. Discover Poetry. Web. 06 Feb. 2011. <http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/billy-collins>.

"General Logon Page." Gale Error Page. 2010. Web. 06 Feb. 2011. <http://ic.galegroup.com/ic/bic1/ReferenceDetailsPage/ReferenceDetailsWindow?displayGroupName=Reference&prodId=BIC1&action=e&windowstate=normal&catId=&documentId=GALE|H1000120669&mode=view>.

Tuesday, June 4, 1991: A Reflection on Nature's Secretary

“Tuesday, June 4, 1991” is a poem about a third of the way into Billy Collins’ 1995 poetry collection, The Art of Drowning. Billy Collins is a contemporary poet who is known for his connection to all the peoples of America (and more recently Europe), through quick wit, humor, and light and clever wordplay. He encourages all audiences, be they the poetry elite or the common man, to enjoy his poetry by keeping the meaning intense, but the words relatively simple. The Art of Drowning is split into three sections. The first deals largely with nature imagery and inspiration, the second deals with perception through time, and the third is about different arts. “Tuesday, June 4, 1991” is the very last poem of the first section, which makes it an ideal poem to bridge the gap. It does this well, combining nature and the perception thereof into one single idea.

“Tuesday, June 4, 1991” is a poem with its meaning deeply rooted in the title, but also hearkens back to the poem placed before it in the book, “Days.” The latter is about the days of a person’s life, each unique. “Each one is a gift”, and as they number in one’s life, so too do they increase in splendor and become ever more precious. They become more fragile, too, making “holding your breath” a necessity for tomorrow. Perhaps this is what inspired Collins to write “Tuesday, June 4, 1991”.

“Tuesday, June 4, 1991” is a fifteen stanza testament to being a part of those days that are so precious; of observing the wonders of life and of the world. It’s a tribute to time; day by day, every second. So, naturally, it begins with him getting out of bed. His wife is already gone to botany class, proof that this is no romantic poem, as the rest of the day is recorded without her. The next stanza I believe cements Billy Collins himself as this poem’s persona. He describes the joys of a breezy June morning, and himself sitting at a table drinking coffee, typing away. Themes begin emerging, such as insignificance in the face of life itself, and how being observant is important to enjoying life. It also speaks to how very critical recording life is, or it will all be forgotten.

Billy Collins keeps mentioning himself as a documenter of life. Near the beginning he “feels like a secretary to the morning whose only responsibility is to take down its bright, airy dictation…”. He then compares that to stenographers in courtrooms, Samuel Pepys (famous for keeping a detailed diary of London during its Reconstruction period), and an “amanuensis whose hands are two birds fluttering on the lettered keys, whose eyes see sunlight splashing through leaves, and the bright pink asterisks of honeysuckle.”

Each individual stanza is four lines long. Some are individual sentences, while others are continuations of sentences past. The lines are all relatively the same length and have a smooth feel to them. The poem flows from one line to the next, never with forced rhyme. In fact, there is almost no rhyme to be found—it only occurs in one or two spots—but rest assured the lack of rhyme detracts from the poem not at all.

-- Long Poem Assignment

Poem with a line by Todd Davis

I hear it loudly, the bell chimes ring

inside the cage of my chest, blood pumping

surging forth, a sea of read words

flowing to my fingers, to my pen

sashaying around the empty ballroom

pirouette and twirl, a ballet of the mind

becomes a movement, choreographed

over the canvas of this veiled existence

staining the pages, seeping through

to the very core of the volume

-one of my A Cappella projects

Roatan

Traveling the dirt roads
playing soccer with kids
who would approach for a chance
to use my brother's good ball
watching the dolphins off the coast
skin glistening with the sunset
as the water erupted around them.

Sketching down the surface
of an orange and purple sead,
couldn't capture the tones
of this lost paradise.
My words, scribbled into the margins
could only whittle the primary colors
into the picture,
leaving it devoid of light.

The colors never returned to my page,
nor to my home,
leaving only
blue,
red,
yellow,
to light my house, my home.
The colors stayed there with the dolphins,
and with the boys, playing soccer
next to a beautiful sea.

-one of my A Cappela projects

Ze Potluck Poem

The song, the birthdays,
the laying on hands,
the plates,
the silverware, the napkins,
the buckets of KFC chicken,
the meatballs,
the meatballs,
the meatballs,
the chicken ccasserole,
the tuna casserole,
the potato casserole,
the meatballs,
the meatballs,
the meatballs,
the veggie plate,
the deviled eggs,
the cheese cubes,
the broccoli salad,
the broccoli salad,
the cake, the oodles of cake,
the occasional pie,
the cookies, piled high,
the meatbalss,
the plastic cups,
the lemonade,
and finally the table,
surrounded by the same people you've sat with
every month
every single year of your life.


-one of my A Cappela pieces

The Life of Livestock

Two faces to each sheep
and neither one sees through
their dead kin's hide
to the wolf inside

Seems to me that they're
losing their edge in this
world made for man;
seems to me they're ready
for eatin'

It's almost like
they try to be fickle
fraught with gluttony
stuffing two faces with grass

S'good for feastin' though,
dumb old sheep make
for delectible meals
when the farmer looks away

Dumb old two faced sheep...
can't even sell their soul
to the highest bidder,
just hand it right over

Soul's aint worth it though,
shame really,
soul's covered in cotton
don't mean a damn thing

I hear if you collect enough,
and fry 'em real good
you might just start a potluck;
seven bowls poured from Heaven

I hope they drown,
those damn sheep,
in the stewpot
they wrought for themselves

'Cause we cattle'll all be branded,
yessir,
so that farmer'll know we're his
and then we'll get corraled in some new range

But hey now,
let's be real honest;
we're all gonna be hamburger
before that big soupy end

so let's all just enjoy being livestock,
and graze with two faces on the grass.

-mine