"Litany"

 

You are the bread and the knife,

the crystal goblet and the wine.

You are the dew on the morning grass

and the burning wheel of the sun.

You are the white apron of the baker

and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,

the plums on the counter,

or the house of cards.

And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.

There is no way you are the pine-scented air.
 

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,

maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,

but you are not even close 

to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in the boathouse.


It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain upon the roof.


I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down the alley,
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.


I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I am not  the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and -  somehow -  the wine.

~ Billy Collins
U.S.A.

20 August, 2019

~ Beannaichte'

@beannaichte.twitter.com  

"Adage"

When it's late at night and branches

are banging against the windows,

you might think that Love is just a matter

of leaping out of the frying pan of yourself

into the fire of someone else,
but it's a little more complicated than that.

It's more like trading the two birds
who might be hiding in that bush
for the one you are not holding in your hand.

A wise man once said that Love
was like forcing a horse to drink
but then everyone stopped thinking of him as wise.

Let us be clear about something.
Love is not as simple as getting up
on the wrong side of the bed wearing the emperor's clothes.

No, it's more like the way the pen 
feels after it has defeated the sword.
It's a little like the penny saved or the nine dropped stitches.

You look at me through the halo of the last candle
and tell me Love is an ill wind
that has no turning, a road that blows no good.

but I am here to remind you,
as our shadows tremble on the walls,
that Love is the early bird who is better late than never.

~Billy Collins
U.S.A.


~Beannaichte'
3 March, 2016

@beannaichte.twitter.com

"Envoy"

Go, little book,

out of the house and into the world,

carriage made of paper rolling toward town

bearing a single passenger

beyond the reach of this jittery pen

and far from the desk and the nosy gooseneck lamp.

it is time to decamp,

put on the jacket and venture outside,

time to be regarded by other eyes,

bound to be held in foreign hands.

so off you go, infants of the brain,

with a wave and some bits of fatherly advice:

stay out as late as you like,

don't bother to call or write,

and talk to as many strangers as you can.

~ Billy Collins

U.S.A.

~ Beannaichte'

27 December, 2013 

@beannaichte.twittter.com