Christmas Sparrow Poem by Billy Collins
Christmas Sparrow
The first thing I heard this morning
was a soft, insistent rustle,
the rapid flapping of wings
against glass as it turned out,
a small bird rioting
in the frame of a high window,
trying to hurl itself through
the enigma of transparency into the spacious light.
A noise in the throat of the cat
hunkered on the rug
told me how the bird had gotten inside,
carried in the cold night
through the flap in a basement door,
and later released from the soft clench of teeth.
Up on a chair, I trapped its pulsations
in a small towel and carried it to the door,
so weightless it seemed
to have vanished into the nest of cloth.
But outside, it burst
from my uncupped hands into its element,
dipping over the dormant garden
in a spasm of wingbeats
and disappearing over a tall row of hemlocks.
Still, for the rest of the day,
I could feel its wild thrumming
against my palms whenever I thought
about the hours the bird must have spent
pent in the shadows of that room,
hidden in the spiky branches
of our decorated tree, breathing there
among metallic angels, ceramic apples, stars of yarn,
its eyes open, like mine as I lie here tonight
picturing this rare, lucky sparrow
tucked into a holly bush now,
a light snow tumbling through the windless dark.
This is the most beguiling and lovely poem about a wild thrumming moment in time that I have ever been blessed to read.
'The first thing I heard this morning was a soft, insistent rustle, the rapid flapping of wings against glass as it turned out, ' loved this, the conversation poetic of the first stanza, tuned in the final 'as it turned out, ' then the glorious rich word images developed with such pathos, before the final surprising 'lucky sparrow tucked into a holly bush' and the charming calm beauty of 'a light snow tumbling through the windless dark.' 10+++
Great poem by Billy Collins and not some surreal dada to boot.
I'm writing a pastiche poem based off of this in english class. The only problem is I can only think of good poetry when it rhymes, but I might have to write it free-verse because the original is free-verse. We'll see what happens. Either way, it's a beautiful poem.
But outside, it burst from my uncupped hands into its element, dipping over the dormant garden in a spasm of wingbeats and disappearing over a tall row of hemlocks... picturesque discription. tony
Still, for the rest of the day, I could feel its wild thrumming against my palms whenever I thought about the hours the bird must have spent pent in the shadows of that room, So much you feel about a little sparrow. your mind is filled with mercy. tony
Next time, would you please write a shorter poem? These are too hard for me to memorize.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/24/2024 9:27:04 PM # 1.0.0.1119
This is Poetry with a capital P- - he handed us this beautiful thought-provoking incident and painted it in colors that we made our own. Just bask in these lines- - - But outside, it burst from my uncupped hands into its element, dipping over the dormant garden in a spasm of wingbeats and disappearing over a tall row of hemlocks. Still, for the rest of the day, I could feel its wild thrumming against my palms whenever I thought about the hours the bird must have spent pent in the shadows of that room,