I heard this poem on Garrison Keillor's Prairie Home Companion radio show. If you have not heard it before, go! quickly! T0
http://prairiehome.publicradio.org/ and check it out. It is hillarious and entertaining and touching. Anyway, I've always WANTED to like poetry and have found bits and pieces that I've liked, but never really pursued reading a lot of poetry. I mean, when you think of someone who reads poetry you think, wow, they must be pretty smart or at the very least, really deep. So anyway, here's my little addition with a not-so-deep poem that is really better to hear when it's
read by Billy Collins, the author, who says you should never use the word "suddenly" just to create tension. If you go over to the Prairie Home Companion website to listen to the poem, you can listen to the whole show or just skip through the first segment to just catch Billy Collins.
Tension
by Billy Collins
Suddenly, you were planting some yellow petunias
outside in the garden,and suddenly I was in the study
looking up the word oligarchy for the thirty-seventh time.
When suddenly, without warning,you planted the last petunia in the flat,
and I suddenly closed the dictionary
now that I was reminded of that vile form of governance.
A moment later, we found ourselves
standing suddenly in the kitchen
where you suddenly opened a can of cat food
and I just as suddenly watched you doing that.
I observed a window of leafy activity
and, beyond that, a bird perched on the edge
of the stone birdbath
when suddenly you announced you were leaving
to pick up a few things at the market
and I stunned you by impulsively
pointing out that we were getting low on butter
and another case of wine would not be a bad idea.
Who could tell what the next moment would hold?
Another drip from the faucet?
Another little spasm of the second hand?
Would the painting of a bowl of pears continue
to hang on the wall from that nail?
Would the heavy anthologies remain on their shelves?
Would the stove hold its position?
Suddenly, it was anyone’s guess.
The sun rose ever higher.
The state capitals remained motionless on the wall map
when suddenly I found myself lying on a couch
where I closed my eyes and without any warning
began to picture the Andes, of all places,
and a path that led over the mountain to another country
with strange customs and eye-catching hats
suddenly fringed with little colorful, dangling balls.