Last Thursday, I heard the poet Billy Collins speak at the Free Library of Philadelphia. I would like to say that it was in honor of National Poetry Month, but it wasn’t—I just love Billy Collins. He’s ancient now—his glasses are old enough to be called spectacles, if that gives you any idea. But he wasn’t slow. I thought perhaps he would be boring—excellent writing does not guarantee good public speaking—or, worse, too academic, but happily I was mistaken. Billy Collins was witty, thoughtful, and unpretentious. Sometimes he was all three at once. I suppose I should have known he would be wonderful after having read his poetry. If you haven’t heard of Billy Collins, he writes what I like to call “everyday poetry”—poetry written so that you can understand it; Billy Collins writes about normal things using normal words. I love it. I have never read a Billy Collins poem and, when I’ve finished it, looked up and asked, “What the heck did that even mean?” He writes about regular things we notice every day and makes them unexpected and amusing, like in this poem entitled “Another Reason Why I Don’t Keep a Gun in the House”:
The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark
that he barks every time they leave the house.
They must switch him on on their way out.
The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
I close all the windows in the house
and put on a Beethoven symphony full blast
but I can still hear him muffled under the music,
barking, barking, barking,
and now I can see him sitting in the orchestra,
his head raised confidently as if Beethoven
had included a part for barking dog.
When the record finally ends he is still barking,
sitting there in the oboe section barking,
his eyes fixed on the conductor who is
entreating him with his baton
While the other musicians listen in respectful
silence to the famous barking dog solo,
that endless coda that first established
Beethoven as an innovative genius.
Labels: poetry
Not something I expected to hear from my professor. Research? Me? Does she KNOW me? I had no comeback except a surprised look on my face. Yet over the next few days I couldn’t get what she said out of my head. What made her say that about me? Being at school for 5 years allowed me the opportunity to write a lot of papers and do a lot of research. I never thought I enjoyed doing Google searches online, scouring through databases, or searching the shelves for books on that particular topic that I needed. But somewhere in the process I realized I began to like it.
I benefitted from knowing which online database to pick and how to put the exact combination of keywords together so that I would find just what I wanted. I relied on the library’s alphabetical system to point me to the right section that would have all the books I needed. I can know anything I want about any topic, at any time. I realized I enjoyed learning, but more importantly, I enjoyed knowing how to learn. Maybe the professor saw something in me that I had not seen in myself: a true satisfaction in research. She was right after all.
And when I graduate, I will actually be able to choose those research topics myself.
Alexa H.
Labels: Research
Are you interested in Japanese history and culture? If so, then you will be pleased to know that the Masland Library has over 100 books focusing solely on this subject. In fact, the library recently won a grant from the Nippon Foundation to obtain these books. The Nippon Foundation is a Japanese philanthropic organization that seeks to improve the condition of humanity in Japan and abroad. Established in 1962, the foundation originally aimed to increase the domestic development of Japan. However, in recent years, the Nippon Foundation has expanded to an international level administering aid and promoting education, welfare, and public health in over one hundred countries. With world peace as their fulcrum, the Nippon Foundation seeks to transcend, while maintaining respect for, global cultures to promote global harmony. Therefore, it is appropriate for them to award us for the possessions of more than one hundred books that will help to remove some of the cultural mysteries that exist between the Americans and Japanese people.
Included within the collection are cultural books such as Kabuki Heroes on the Osaka Stage, 1780-1850. This catalog examines the culture of the Kabuki Theater in Osaka and Kyoto. Family and Social Policy in Japan, another novel in our extremely intriguing collection, focuses specifically on the false nature of the stereotype that Japanese culture is unchanging. Other pieces include: Post War Japan as History, Modern Japan, Samurai and Silk, Japanese Economic System and Historical Origins, Japanese Financial Crisis.
Our very full collection of documents that focuses on Japanese society possesses the potential to break some of the modern tension between global cultures. They just need to be read. So, if you desire to know more about Japanese culture and wish to transcend the cultural boundaries between America and Japan, come on out and read from our ever expanding collection of books that reveal the mystery of Japanese culture and History.
Matt O.
Below is an example of one of the poems in the book. The poem is written in cold language (meaning a child with a cold/ is sick) and I think although it is a silly poem, it is certainly a feeling we can all relate to at one time or another.
Code
I dibbin go to school today,
Bom looked at be and said, “No way.”
Wend back to bed and here I’ll stay,
‘Cause I hab a terrible code.
By throad is sore, by eyes are bink,
By node dribs like a leaky sink,
By head’s so stuffed it hurds to think.
I hab a terrible code.
I challenge you in honor of National Poetry Month to take advantage of the library’s collection of poetry. Peruse through the PN, PR, and PS sections of the library when you have a few free moments. Maybe even head over the children’s section and find some children’s poetry, so that you too can reminisce a little.
CJC
Shields, Carol Diggory. Lunch Money and Other Poems About School. New York: Puffin Books, 1995. Print.
April is National Poetry Month. For some, this brings a happy reminder to quiet nights spent curled up in a corner with a slim, old-smelling book. For others, it brings the feeling of immediate incarceration within a bare, near-windowless classroom with badly-photocopied sheets being passed along the desks. But, in general, poetry is not approached with ambivalence.
Almost anyone who had to take any sort of English class knows the challenge (or tedium, depending on the perspective) of taking in a poem. I remember being told to explicate a poem that was written by a man in an insane asylum about how wonderful and angelic his cat was. My teacher did not appreciate my conclusion that the poem meant that the man was exactly where he needed to be. But, at the same time, though rather disgusted with that particular example, I still found myself stealing off with the poetry anthology, wanting to absorb more of the curious words.
One of the poets who I discovered during high school was Billy Collins. I like to think that he understands the inherent frustration in tackling poetry, but I could be wrong. At the very least, here’s his Introduction to Poetry.
I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide
or press an ear against its hive.
I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,
or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.
I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.
But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.
They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.
I doubt that the Academy of American Poets will make anyone magically begin to like poetry by instituting this monthlong celebration. But for anyone who is loves poetry already or who maybe is interested in learning more about how poetry works, the library has a display that contains guides to poetry and a sampling of works from a variety of poets. Read with joy.
abbie.
Collins, Billy. The Apple That Astonished Paris: Poems. Fayetteville: University of Arkansas, 1996. Print.