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User Rating: |
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9.2
/10
(123
votes)
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The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,
as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.
Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.
Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.
It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.
No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.
Billy Collins
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Read poems about / on: fishing, poem, flower, river, war, remember, moon, dark, night, fish, swimming, rose, kiss, memory
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Comments about this poem (Forgetfulness
by
Billy Collins
) |
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Click here to write your
comments about this poem (Forgetfulness by
Billy Collins
)
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Fay Slimm
(12/11/2008 8:24:00 AM) |
Does this happen to everyone Mr B.C. - - it sounds ominously near to happening to me, if by a certain stage in life we all start to go off our rockers.... but in all seriousness this has to be read and then re-read (no, not because we have forgotten the content!) but that it has quality, in abundance. Greetings from Fay.
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Michael Elkin
(11/17/2008 9:04:00 PM) |
What? I told I have to write 20 characters. Why?
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Thor 02
(11/16/2008 10:54:00 PM) |
hello greenwolfe: -)
Thank you for your comment, but i do feel that this poem is a kind of prose poetry, there is an innate musicality and rhythm in the lines (which are very unlikely on prose alone) . Also, the use of metaphor is perperual all throughout the piece. Prose never employs the absence of the 'other', of the material real, of the persona etc...
anyways, it reminds me that i cannot recollect on things fully. Our mind is very porous...
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Greenwolfe 1962
(9/1/2008 3:55:00 AM) |
I just heard the name of Billy Collins a few weeks ago, and I thought that at
some point I would read one of his better poems before making any comment on him. This is the poem I chose to read and these are my first comments. In the
first place, I noticed this was not a poem. It is prose. Second, he decides that
the purpose of this is to talk about forgetfulness. So, that is what he does. He says some things about it, but at the end he really has no revelation to convey.
His clarity was good for the most part. There are no particular things that one
might wish to remember from this piece. Perhaps, he has decided that since
things are all going to be forgotten anyway, there is no point in being memorable.
If that were the purpose of this piece then it may be remembered. Otherwise,
it shall be another victim of its title.
GW62
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Robert Howard
(6/17/2008 11:43:00 PM) |
I'm 64 and there's just no saying, 'it ain't so' because it just is.
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Nathan Markowitz
(11/13/2007 9:25:00 PM) |
Wow. So true. I am only an 8th grader and I appreciate your work. That's a realy good thing,
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E Planz
(10/30/2007 1:59:00 AM) |
I forgot how I clicked here but it was worth the dropp in thanks.. lucky I go places One Peace at a time...
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Cheryl Moyer
(7/15/2007 9:23:00 AM) |
Billy -
Your name showed up on the bottom of my page, stating people who read your poems also read mine. Wow, they must just be clicking around. Your poetry is so skillful, its obvious you've put years of passion into perfecting this emerging American pastime, the poetic arts!
Best wishes - xxxxxCheryl
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Margaret Newcomb
(6/24/2007 12:26:00 PM) |
Mr Collins,
I heard you on NPR and was moved to writing. You've inspired me, not beyond words, but to them. The essence of your writing has gone straight to my very core. As if I've known you so very long. Thank you.
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