Wednesday 9 July 2008

How Not to Read a Poem


"... tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it
."

*

Quoted from
"Introduction to Poetry"
by Billy Collins
(The Apple that Astonished Paris, 1996
University of Arkansas Press)

Click here
to read the poem.

10 comments:

  1. Very interesting thoughts and the poem is probably right on.
    I like the solitary chair. Nice photo.
    In answer to your question, Yes all the "knick knacks" on the table were for sale.
    The Flea market was the best photo opportunity I have ever seen. I hope to go again next year.

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  2. that's a great pair of lines, the best in the poem.

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  3. PHOTOWANNABE:
    There's a huge flea market every Saturday morning in downtown Vienna, but I never managed to get there. Seeing your pictures, I may try harder to do so. ;-)

    CHARLES GRAMLICH:
    I agree, and they really hurt, doesn't they? ;-)

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  4. Anonymous09 July, 2008

    very beautiful post

    I wish you a great summer

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  5. Well, you never cease to fascinate :-)

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  6. Stop crawling Maalie!

    You are right about torturing poetry. This is the main reason that I can't stand poetry 'readings'. I hate the soppy way it is read. Poetry is much better read silently to yourself.

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  7. EVLAHOS:
    Thank you!
    My your summer be a very good one too. :-)

    MAALIE:
    Maybe I should write a fan letter to Billy Collins? ;-)

    LORENZOTHELLAMA:
    Oh, I beg to differ!
    I would love being able to once more listen to Billy Collins read one of his poems. I hear his voice and intonation when I read in one of his poetry collections, and that makes all the difference. ;-)

    Here I have a poem for you:

    The Railway Train
    Emily Dickinson

    I like to see it lap the Miles—
    And lick the Valleys up—
    And stop to feed itself at Tanks—
    And then—prodigious step

    Around a Pile of Mountains—
    And supercilious peer
    In Shanties—by the sides of Roads—
    And then a Quarry pare

    To fit its Ribs
    And crawl between
    Complaining all the while
    In horrid—hooting stanza—
    Then chase itself down Hill—

    And neigh like Boanerges—
    Then—punctual as a Star
    Stop—docile and omnipotent
    At its own stable door—

    :-)

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  8. This is a very amusing thought....

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  9. I immediately recognized the title of this blog-posting.
    Isn't Collins a gem?
    [I wonder if someday people will so immediately recognize snippets from my own poetry? Dream on, Cipriano! DREAM ON!]

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  10. It was you who put me (a poemophobic), on to Billy Collins!
    And I loved this poem.
    And these particular words stuck with me.

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