I just finished reading Billy Collins' newest book of poems, Ballistics, and although some of the poems are lovely, many seem forced. Poetry is something that happens, not something that is made to happen. My favorite book of his remains Picnic, Lightning. Here is one of the lighter ones that I liked in the new book. I post it here especially for Sophia.
Hippos on Holiday
is not really the title of a movie
but if it was I would be sure to see it.
I love their short legs and big heads,
the whole hippo look.
Hundreds of them would frolic
in the mud of a wide, slow-moving river,
and I would eat my popcorn
in the dark of a neighborhood theater.
When they opened their enormous mouths
lined with big stubby teeth
I would drink my enormous Coke.
I would be both in my seat
and in the water playing with the hippos,
which is the way it is
with a truly great movie.
Only a mean-spirited reviewer
would ask on holiday from what?
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2 comments:
thanks Christine.
Well, I think we need less poetry and more "Babysitters Down"!
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