~ To the Tune of 'One More Night'
by Phil Collins ~
One more write, I gotta do just
one more write, there’s gotta be
just one more write
left in good old me tonight
Babe, without you I’m so lonely
but what moves me now is only
One more write, I gotta do just
one more write, for you and me tonight
Categories:
collins, longing, music, song,
Form: Lyric
William Collins in poetic mode
wrote some verse in an ode
Also rakish by repute
& melodic balance non did dispute
Categories:
collins, people, poetry,
Form: Clerihew
"Dark Shadow's" Barnabas Collins,
Was guilty of vampire maulin's.
He was cursed by jealous witch, Angelique,
A cure for vampirism he did seek.
7/16/21
(For those who don't know, Dark Shadows was a gothic soap-opera that aired
from 1966-1971. As a kid, I was crazy about it!)
Categories:
collins, betrayal, dark, gothic,
Form: Clerihew
Your singing sounds awfully sweet
when I hear Donovan's composition "Sunny Goodge Street".
"Send In The Clowns" also sounds great,
along with "Suzanne"; they are both first rate.
Your greatest hit that made number one
was "Both Sides Now". It can't be outdone.
All your great songs I continue to play.
I'm so glad you're still around today.
Categories:
collins, dedication, music, tribute,
Form: Rhyme
You are the soup and the spoon.
You are the moist, warm vapor of
tarragon rising from the bowl,
you are the wooden bowl.
You are that same vapor morphed
into the morning mist that flags across
the tops of hemlock and pine on its
journey toward an evening sky so
perfectly clouded and colored it
could be a painting. You are that sky
at dusk. You are the canvas that
caught the silhouette of a tardy
mourning dove racing home.
And I am that mourning dove lost in
reverie while foraging beneath a Mock Orange.
I am the Mock Orange. I am the perfume lifting
out of the center of its creamy, white petals—
pursed like a pouting mouth. I am the hunger.
I am the mouth that will not hesitate to open
for the offered spoon of soup.
By: Evelyn Augusto
Categories:
collins, bird, food, identity, inspirational,
Form: Free verse
As a daytime vampire, you achieved great popularity.
Your acting skills have displayed your awesome versatility.
Each afternoon, I ran home from school to see you on TV.
The producer of the show would also bring forth a movie.
In your same role, you would wreak havoc in the community.
In Collinsport, Maine, you were pursuing a girl named Maggie.
She would resemble Josette, whom you were supposed to marry.
Such an unfortunate vampire; we saw you playing the part
of a night creature we would love to pound a stake in your heart!
At first, we all thought you were evil, but you were very good.
You assumed the person of a descendent of Collinwood.
When you were freed from your chained coffin in a mausoleum,
you dwelled among your living relatives as a conundrum.
You would go after the throats of your American cousins.
Who would need Count Dracula when we’ve got Barnabas Collins?
Each day, we would see you get into a new predicament.
For several years, you provided us with great entertainment.
Categories:
collins, dedication, nostalgia, tribute,
Form: Rhyme
Neil V. Collins
September 17, 1943 – September 2, 2005
Only August gloaming now
never more than a memory
forever gone, September.
©Kathryn Collins
August 31, 20012
Categories:
collins, death,
Form: Free verse
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
Categories:
collins, introspection, on writing and
Form: Rhyme