I love Billy Collins' poetry. And experiencing his poetry goes to a whole other level when you can watch how different animation artists have interpreted or enhanced some of his poems. You can see more videos here (don't miss "Some Days," it's a favorite of mine). I love how these animations bring out different things in the words. Be inspired. Enjoy.
{Forgetfulness}
{The Dead}
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Forgetfulness is one of my favorite Billy Collins’ poems. He seems to perfectly capture my mind (or lack there of). It prompted me to write this:
Left my keys, somewhere…
Quick! (before it slips away)
write it down—
Can’t find pen!
(I’ll use my lip liner.)
Wait. No paper!
(I’ll use my hand.)
PICK UP DRY-CLEANING
There, now I won’t forget. But,
must remember not
to do dishes.
Wind
tip-
toeing
past
etched
glass
squares
that
light
milky
white
inside
must
be
quiet
Hope you don't mind if I join late. I have been enjoying the comments. Here is a prose poem I wrote a while back that the Billy Collins post reminded me of. Judy in Phoenix
I REMEMBER TO WRITE A POEM ABOUT FORGETTING
I’m not talking about the six year-old who doesn’t know how
the vase got broken or the politician facing an investigative committee
or the woman whose marriage was made perfect by her husband’s death.
I’m talking about the panic when I’m flailing for the name of the smiling
person walking towards me before I have to say it…Susan…Sharon…
Sarah…ah, “Shannon, so good to see you….”
I’m talking about the words falling off the shelves in my head
that I have to coax out of the corners and piece back together; the ones
I have to sneak up on or walk away from, pretending I don’t care so they
will pop back on their own. I have…what is the word?…the one that
means everything is disintegrating all the time…eclectic…endomorph…
entrap…entropy—that’s what I have, entropy of the mind.
Desperation has made me an expert in fungibility. I can snatch
words with alacrity and wrestle them into whatever I mean. So what if
I say whozit when I mean my daughter Julie or whatzit for the spice that
goes in the stew. I have to be philosophical. I am getting older. But
no matter how bad it gets I promise I will never fall into the smurf trap
where, you know, one word does it for everything, like, you know, f____.
I hope you don't mind if I contribute my own study in poetry writing, even as a late contributor. : )
One of my favorite music videos is by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f7iiF8U6y_U
It's inspired by the one-minute sculptures of Erwin Wurm. Music videos are in a sense animated poetry...
Popcorn Popping and Sunbeams for Him.
I thought provided radiant colors.
Little Purple Pansies and Little Streams.
Look a little more pastel now.
Patting Daddy's Cheeks and Search, Ponder and Praying.
Seem more black and white.
Meadows of Clover and Mary's Lullably.
Apparently not enough nuance.
Zenaida: I'm so glad you are joining in late! Anytime is a good time for postcard poems, right?
I'll have to check out that music video when I get home today.
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