At a Billy Collins Reading

Billy Collins read his poems And we all sat there, rapt. Not everybody has those words Just waiting to be tapped. His poetry provides the rungs So happenings mundane Can climb a ladder, bringing them To quite a different plane. An ordinary thought Would come to naught in many hands; Yet Billy Collins molds it With the magic he commands. I wonder if the audience Got sucked into believing That poems like his are easy – Their simplicity’s deceiving. ‘Cause anyone who tries to write Arrives at one conclusion – What looks to be a breeze Is often simply an illusion. I paid attention to his thoughts of flow And then revision; It made me realize he would view My poems with some derision. Yet one thing struck me as I listened, Though this may not show it – Just like Billy Collins, I can call myself a poet. Ilene Bauer http://primetimerhyme.blogspot.com