Poems by Billy Collins
Madmen
... then I watched it fly out the open door into the night ...
Design
... This is the sun with its glittering spokes ...
Aristotle
... This is the colophon, the last elephant in the parade, ...
Morning
... the typewriter waiting for the key of the head, ...
No Time
... while my mother calmly tells him to lie back down ...
The Death of Allegory
... They are all retired now, consigned to a Florida for tropes ...
Irish Poetry
... the whole afternoon lambent, corrugated, puddle-mad ...
Memorizing “The Sun Rising” by John Donne
... it goes with me now, contracted into a little spot within ...
Fishing on the Susquehanna in July
... I imagined him springing right out of the frame ...
The Wires of the Night
... and all the days to follow, and it moved into the future ...
Forgetfulness
... which suddenly becomes one you have never read, never even heard of, ...
Cheerios
... I surmised as a bar of sunlight illuminated my orange juice ...
Reading an Anthology of Chinese Poems of the Sung Dynasty, I Pause To Admire the Length and Clarity of Their Titles
... No confusingly inscribed welcome mat to puzzle over ...
Workshop
... s just me, but the next stanza is where I start to have a problem ...
Her
... equipped with air brakes, reverse beeper, and merciless grinder ...
