Helen of Troy (1863), Dante Gabriel Rossetti (reportedly obssessed with wombats in his later years).For no reason at all, I'm posting a poem I wrote (for no reason at all) in the style of Billy Collins while sitting at a bar with Jacob in Seam Riep, Cambodia this summer. I don't think liking Billy Collins is "done" in literary circles, but this poem has a wonderful peace about it. Juste comme ça, j'ai décidé de réproduire ici un poème que j'ai écris lorsque j'étais au Cambodge cet été--c'est dans le style du poète américain Billy Collins. Je trouve ce poème-ci de Billy Collins très beau.
The Nose That Launched 1000 Ships
Do I have ink on my nose?
I was swatting away a fly
just as I sat down to write
a letter to you.
I wasn't able to, in this heat,
and dealing with all the flies
that flit from my ears--
grazing my earlobes
displeasingly--
to the paper I am using, black forms
jittering on the still-blank page
warming on the small table
of a café that was in the sun
all day.
What I was going to tell you
is outdated, and written on the tip
of my nose.
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Billy Collins is my favorite contemporary poet, so I'm especially pleased to see this.
ReplyDeleteI've written a few in a similar style; perhaps now I'll muster up the courage to post them.
Sugoi desu.
May I never become so literary as to not enjoy Billy Collins!
ReplyDeleteI miss you Haitham - I was thinking of you this weekend. I really enjoy reading your blog.
Love, Paige
Ever so loverly. :)
ReplyDeleteBut where's the translation on that one? Doesn't Billy Collins translate well?
I suppose I shouldn't post this, but I also wrote a poem as of late while sitting not checking notebooks at kishira-chu.
(ahem)
the mountain mist brings sleepy drifts
of lazy rain-- a Monday gift
oft apt to shirk the morning's work
for sycophantic dreams of myrth,
the sluggard stares past desk and chairs
and through the window's daylight glares
at idle trees-- indolent breeze
rain soaked roofs through shiftless leaves,
that seem to dwell without pell-mell sporadic undulation
unlike us who freak and fuss through constant consternation
what right have they to lounge and lay without a thing to do?
Well, day by day, in nature’s way they’ve done their job, have you?