I Ask You Poem by Billy Collins
I Ask You
What scene would I want to be enveloped in
more than this one,
an ordinary night at the kitchen table,
floral wallpaper pressing in,
white cabinets full of glass,
the telephone silent,
a pen tilted back in my hand?
It gives me time to think
about all that is going on outside--
leaves gathering in corners,
lichen greening the high grey rocks,
while over the dunes the world sails on,
huge, ocean-going, history bubbling in its wake.
But beyond this table
there is nothing that I need,
not even a job that would allow me to row to work,
or a coffee-colored Aston Martin DB4
with cracked green leather seats.
No, it's all here,
the clear ovals of a glass of water,
a small crate of oranges, a book on Stalin,
not to mention the odd snarling fish
in a frame on the wall,
and the way these three candles--
each a different height--
are singing in perfect harmony.
So forgive me
if I lower my head now and listen
to the short bass candle as he takes a solo
while my heart
thrums under my shirt--
frog at the edge of a pond--
and my thoughts fly off to a province
made of one enormous sky
and about a million empty branches.
now isn't that just what everybody needs eventually........a place to call 'home'........after being on those paths, wandering for so long..........it makes me think of getting old
What scene would I want to be enveloped in more than this one, an ordinary night at the kitchen table, floral wallpaper pressing in, white cabinets full of glass, the telephone silent, a pen tilted back in my hand?
It gives me time to think about all that is going on outside- leaves gathering in corners, lichen greening the high grey rocks, while over the dunes the world sails on, huge, ocean-going, history bubbling in its wake. a very fine poem. tony
So forgive me if I lower my head now and listen to the short bass candle as he takes a solo while my heart thrums under my shirt- .....here I feel the love for the chores sharing with better-half to make a harmonious life; beautiful poem shared
Brilliant. Each moment of life is so precious, spent in the closeness of your own self.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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9/15/2024 9:13:26 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I Tell You I am envious of your candle, having only a cheap logoed cup with two sad pens busy inking the bottom in lieu of tea. And a black phone silently telling me I have seven missed calls none of which compel me to return them as I am busy gazing out my window where the winter oaks just beyond the parking lot dream of medieval forests and small albino deer.