Dear Reader

Poem By Billy Collins

Baudelaire considers you his brother, and Fielding calls out to you every few paragraphs as if to make sure you have not closed the book, and now I am summoning you up again, attentive ghost, dark silent figure standing in the doorway of these words.

Comments about Dear Reader

Baudelaire called the readers like brothers/sisters Fielding called the readers to justify where they read out this or not But Collins called the readers to certify as if they become so studious that after death the skeletons shall be eager to read the same! ! ! - just joking! ! !
Musing along! ! ! With a book to read. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Baudelaire considers you his brother, and Fielding calls out to you every few paragraphs as if to make sure you have not closed the book, and now I am summoning you up again, attentive ghost, dark silent figure standing in the doorway of these words...... touching expression. Fine work.
Dark and beautiful. Oh so the two guys are poets? Dont know them.
CONGRATULATIONS for YOU, dear Billy You are chosen (again) by Poem Hunter and Team as The Modern Poem Of The Day, hooray! ! And this Prose poem is a very attentive reading for us as readers. Very poetically created. Be happy, dear Billy Enjoy today. God's Blessings


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Other poems of COLLINS

Forgetfulness

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followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,

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I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

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.

Flames

Smokey the Bear heads
into the autumn woods
with a red can of gasoline
and a box of wooden matches.

Litany

You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine...
-Jacques Crickillon

I Ask You

What scene would I want to be enveloped in
more than this one,
an ordinary night at the kitchen table,
floral wallpaper pressing in,