Nine Horses

by Billy Collins

Nine Horses, Billy Collins’s first book of new poems since Picnic, Lightning in 1998, is the latest curve in the phenomenal trajectory of this poet’s career. Already in his forties when he debuted with a full-length book, The Apple That Astonished Paris, Collins has become the first poet since Robert Frost to combine high critical acclaim with broad popular appeal. And, as if to crown this success, he was appointed Poet Laureate of the United States for 2001–2002, and reappointed for 2002–2003.

What accounts for this remarkable achievement is the poems themselves, quiet meditations grounded in everyday life that ascend effortlessly into eye-opening imaginative realms. These new poems, in which Collins continues his delicate negotiations between the clear and the mysterious, the comic and the elegiac, are sure to sustain and increase his audience of avid readers.

Genres: Poetry, Nonfiction, American, Adult, Book Club, Ebooks, 21st Century

144 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 2002

About the author

William James Collins is an American poet who served as the Poet Laureate of the United States from 2001 to 2003. He was a Distinguished Professor at Lehman College of the City University of New York, retiring in 2016. Collins was recognized as a Literary Lion of the New York Public Library (1992) and selected as the New York State Poet for 2004 through 2006. In 2016, Collins was inducted into the American Academy of Arts and Letters. As of 2020, he is a teacher in the MFA program at Stony Brook Southampton.

Reviews

[Malia · Rating 5 out of 5]

Another wonderful collection by a poet who is becoming a favorite of mine. "Velocity", "Paris" and "Obituaries" were probably my favorites. Collins has the ability to highlight the ordinary moments in life and to find a sort of quiet magic in them. Highly recommended!

Find more reviews and bookish fun at http://www.princessandpen.com

[TK421 · Rating 5 out of 5]

Let me start by saying: I KNOW ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ABOUT POETRY! In grad school I intentionally steered clear of any class that had to analyze poetry in any aspect. It’s not that I was afraid of the work; it was more that the work overwhelmed me. How does one exactly go about analyzing the thoughts of a person when the words are directed at allusions and people and places and times that the reader may have little to no knowledge of?

Years have passed since my chickening out, and I have decided to give poetry another try. I mean, who really cares how I interpret a poem? I’m the reader, right?

Before reading NINE HORSES, I had never heard of Billy Collins before. This saddens me. To me, this void in my literary reading experience denotes that there is much I still have to learn about literature, about the written word in general. (And I’m willing to bet that I’m not alone in this, am I?) So I read Collins’ book of poems in five different sittings and tried to make mental notes of some of the imagery he evokes through his words. Before long, I had lost most these images. It wasn’t that his word-paintings were vague or uninspired or cliché, they weren’t. What I think happened was this: Collins doesn’t try to bombard the reader with heavy allusions that don’t make sense or supplant esoteric verses that require not only a Ph.D. in poetry, but a Ph.D. in life. His writing is simple, but simple in a profound way—if that makes any sense. He uses examples and details that most readers will be able to relate, if not actually feel his experiences because they have felt them too. I sound like a teenager gushing over a first date, I hope s/he calls me!! But this is my proof of what a remarkable writer Billy Collins is. I don’t know how good he is. I don’t even know if I can compare him to anyone. Like I said, I know absolutely nothing about poetry. But I do know that his poems invigorated me, made me think, and energized a latent spirit within that wants more.

Perhaps this is all a phase and I will awaken tomorrow and think nothing of Billy Collins and his book of poems as I eat breakfast with my wife and children. But then again, perhaps I will share with them what I read tonight.

Here are a few of my favorite poems in the book:

Tipping Point

At home, the jazz station plays all day,
so sometimes it becomes indistinct,
like the sound of rain,
birds in the background, the surf of traffic.

But today I heard a voice announce
that Eric Dolphy, 36 when he died,
has now been dead for 36 years.

I wonder—
did anyone sense something
when another Eric Dolphy lifetime
was added to the span of life,

when we all took another
full dolphy step forward in time,
flipped over the Eric Dolphy yardstick once again?

It would have been so subtle—
like the sensation you might feel
as you passed through the moment

at the exact center in your life
or as you crossed the equator at night in a boat.

I never gave it another thought,
but could that have been the little shift
I sensed a while ago
as I walked down in the rain to get the mail?


NO TIME

In a rush this weekday morning,
I tap the horn as I speed past the cemetery
where my parents are buried
side by side under a smooth slab of granite.

Then, all day long, I think of him rising up
to give me that look
of knowing disapproval
while my mother calmly tells him to lie back down.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

I think this is really good stuff. But who am I to say?

VERY HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

[Paula Mota · Rating 5 out of 5]

4,5*

THE LISTENER
I cannot see you a thousand miles from here,
but I can hear you
whenever you cough in your bedroom
or when you set down
your wineglass on a granite counter.
This afternoon
I even heard scissors moving
at the tips of your hair
and the dark snips falling
onto a marble floor.
I keep the jazz
on the radio turned off.
I walk across the floor softly,
eyes closed,
the windows in the house shut tight.
I hear a motor on the road in front,
a plane humming overhead,
someone hammering,
then there is nothing
but the white stone building of silence.
You must be asleep
for it to be this quiet,
so I will sit and wait
for the rustle of your blanket
or noise from your dream.
Meanwhile, I will listen to the ant beating
a dead comrade
across these floorboards---
the noble sounds
of his tread and his low keening.

Grande parte dos poemas de Nine Horses partem da análise de coisas banais e de acontecimentos perfeitamente mundanos que despertam a atenção de Billy Collins e o fazem discorrer com muita perspicácia, sensibilidade e até ironia. Muitos são pequenas narrativas que quase pareceriam contos se não fosse a métrica e a melodia com que o poeta dispõe as palavras, o que achei extremamente cativante e original. Billy Collins diz que os seus poemas se baseiam no “carpe diem” e realmente assiste-se a esse processo na sua poesia: ele observa, apreende, cogita, aproveita e regozija-se com cada instante e cada pormenor.
Apesar de ser amplamente aplaudido e de ter sido o poeta laureado dos Estados Unidos entre 2001 e 2003, Billy Collins só foi editado em Portugal numa edição mais que limitada de Haikus, que depressa esgotou. Merecia, sem dúvida, uma maior projecção por cá.

AIMLESS LOVE
This morning as I walked along the lakeshore,
I fell in love with a wren
and later in the day with a mouse
the cat had dropped under the dining room table.
In the shadows of an autumn evening,
I fell for a seamstress
still at her machine in the tailor’s window,
and later for a bowl of broth,
steam rising like smoke from a naval battle.
This is the best kind of love, I thought,
without recompense, without gifts,
or unkind words, without suspicion,
or silence on the telephone.
The love of the chestnut,
the jazz cap and one hand on the wheel.
No lust, no slam of the door –
the love of the miniature orange tree,
the clean white shirt, the hot evening shower,
the highway that cuts across Florida.
No waiting, no huffiness, or rancor –
just a twinge every now and then
for the wren who had built her nest
on a low branch overhanging the water
and for the dead mouse,
still dressed in its light brown suit.
But my heart is always propped up
in a field on its tripod,
ready for the next arrow.
After I carried the mouse by the tail
to a pile of leaves in the woods,
I found myself standing at the bathroom sink
gazing down affectionately at the soap,
so patient and soluble,
so at home in its pale green soap dish.
I could feel myself falling again
as I felt its turning in my wet hands
and caught the scent of lavender and stone

[Julie Ehlers · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nine Horses was the eighteenth book in my October poetry project. The best compliment I can give Billy Collins is that he really knows what he's doing. His collection The Art of Drowning got me back into reading poetry about 20 years ago, and the qualities of that volume have carried forward through the ensuing years and books: his poems are accessible and funny, but also moving and wise, and their structure makes perfect sense—not overly formal, but not as haphazard as a lot of contemporary poetry seems these days. His poems don't make me feel as much as some others, but they're still a pleasure to read. Four stars for first read, four stars for the reread.

[Kat · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm not a particular fan of poetry, but Billy Collins' work will have to be an exception. He manages to take subjects from the mundane trivialities of day-to-day life to the philosophical and deep realities of existence and mortality and somehow make them work together with equal ease. His thoughtful observations and insights on life and death give the reader a side-door into topics that in a factual discussion might otherwise make them uncomfortable. He manages a wonderful mix of sobriety and humor. (Let's just say I'll never see a mouse and matches the same way again). This book is a quick read and well worth your time.

★★★★ Stars

[Gopal · Rating 5 out of 5]

Poetry is usually a hit or miss for me. With the exception of a couple of poets, Housman and Larkin to be specific, it has mostly been a-miss. My mind is not naturally wired for poems that ask me to dive deep in search of hidden meanings. They often seem to require the skill, patience, and resilience of a pearl diver, and I usually come up empty handed.

Billy Collins changed that.

I enjoyed every poem in this collection, but the six that stood out for me were Today, Tipping Point, The Country, Velocity, Nine Horses, and No time. Most begin with something ordinary: a beautiful day; a passing remark on the radio; a birthday gift; a thought about how fast we are moving through space. And before you know it, Collins has led you to think about time, memory, love, mortality, and the everyday wonders of life.

What I like most about Collins is that he writes simply. His poems are thoughtful and unassuming. They also made me slow down, observe and look at familiar things a little differently.

With Nine horses Collins has given me at least six good reasons to keep reading poetry.

[Ken · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not bad. Some poems I knew already, like "The Country," about mice (BC likes mice) starting a house fire, and "Litany," a list poem that states what the object of the speaker's poem is and isn't, followed by what the speaker himself is and isn't.

Includes many poems about places BC has traveled, such as Europe and Bermuda and Istanbul. Most surprisingly, the reader is also treated to poems about death. I think I saw a video somewhere where the Billy said all poets have to get them out of their system before turning to funnier stuff (or, the more humorous and wry fare he is better known for today).

At the time of this book's publication (2002), Collins was America's Poet Laureate. Man, has time changed. But then, that's what Time is paid to do.

[MacKenzie Alexander]

Collins sings right to my heart. He makes me grateful for mortality by pointing out bars of soap and roadkill. Who would have thought the way to keep moving forward would be a “miniature orange tree” or stanzas dedicated to single stalks of asparagus?

[Samuel Handley · Rating 5 out of 5]

I picked this up to finally get into this poetry thing. I enjoyed it. He has this nice way of getting you to think about things that you already think about a lot in a different way than how you already think about those things. I think that’s the point of poetry maybe, but I don’t know.

[Matt Pitts · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is my first collection of Billy Collins poems to read and I don’t yet know how do describe him. He’s not a literary poet making references to books and phrases and characters only known to well read, except when occasionally he is. He’s not a metaphysical poet plumbing the depths of existence in profound language, but he does plumb those depths somewhat in everyday language. He made me pause, made me laugh out loud, made me see things in a new light, as poets do.

[Jessica Robinson · Rating 5 out of 5]

It’s no wonder that I would love this poetry collection about the small wonders of the world, and its acute observations of the beauty of the everyday.

[tara · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wonderful and Funny and Slayful

[Megan · Rating 5 out of 5]

I absolutely loved having this book in my purse as I did my errands. It helped me be off my phone as I waited in line here and there. Billy is one of my favorite poets. He has a way of making the mundane extraordinary and the extraordinary part of every day life.

[Jenny · Rating 5 out of 5]

I don't think I could say it any better than the NY Times Review (as quoted on the back of the book) It is difficult not to be charmed by (Billy) Collins

[Sara · Rating 3 out of 5]

Why should I have complicated feelings about a poet's work that is simple, clear, and precise? In a way, Billy Collins' poems reminds me of Mary Oliver (my favorite poet of all time) and Robert Frost in terms of his writing style and his ability to see the extraordinary in the ordinary and everyday. Yet I rarely felt any emotional connection to his work, and the "wow" moments from NINE HORSES were more subtle compared to "wow" moments in other poetry books I've read. I'm not sure how else to describe my thoughts on this collection, especially since most of them are subjective instead of critical. It just... didn't appeal to me as much as I hoped it would, I guess.

Favorites: "Aimless Love," "As If to Demonstrate an Eclipse," "Nine Horses," "Litany," "Return of the Key," "The Listener," "By a Swimming Pool Outside Siracusa," "Bermuda," and "Drawing."

[Sarah · Rating 2 out of 5]

I am truly mystified why this guy is "the most popular poet in America," according to the New York Times. His poems are like making a great to-do about hopping around in a tiny circle, or like reading someone's tweets narrating what they had for breakfast. His poems are all very brief snapshots, without much that provides any kind of resonance. They are easy to understand, which is perhaps the reason why they are "popular," but I didn't get much out of the read. Collins leans heavily on first person, which may account for the lack of variety in point of view. There is no "big picture," no universal.

The one poem I actually liked was "To My Patron," because the final lines are such a twist and have such humor, the like of which is more or less absent from the rest of the book. After I read that poem, I began noticing other lines in his poems which presented a surprising twist. Often those lines were towards the beginning or middle, however, and I began wondering how the poem would be different if Collins changed the climax to hinge on the twist.

[Hansen Wendlandt · Rating 4 out of 5]

After reading Nine Horses was the first time I've ever gone immediately online to order the rest of an author's works. It's as good as poetry can get for someone who appreciates poetry without any formal study. Collins has an impeccable style, longer poems than Dickinson (which can just scroll by), but short enough to keep full attention. Shakespeare might push layers of meaning onto single words, but Collins has an uncanny way of using a straightfoward line that means one thing with the previous, something totally different with the latter line. Awareness of life and nature, simplicity and clarity of language, are consistent beautiful themes. He appreciates the art of words without relying on esoteric metaphors or using poetry to comment on poetry; still, yellow birds, trains, the color orange and the afterlife are impressionable symbols throughout. As one might expect with a youthful senior, Collins writes about travel more than love, the present more than future hopes. But I can't think of any place or age that wouldn't work for reading this fabulous book.

[Stephen Williams · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a collection written by a man who seems to have ceased marking time with his watch, beginning instead to count the sunspots on his wrist and the wrinkles on his forehead. At times he is dryly morbid, at others he is less-dryly hilarious, a master of inflecting ordinary moments with ordinary language before clotheslining the reader with a cluster words forming some unlooked-for image that is both brilliant and easily-conceived. I don’t know that he knows that he is searching for the lasting certainty of holiness, yet the hint of holiness (or at least its pursuit) seems to sneak into his work where one might least expect it.

“We must always look at things
from the point of view of eternity,
the college theologians used to insist,
from which, I imagine, we would all
appear to have speed lines trailing behind us
as we rush along the road of the world.”

[Frank · Rating 3 out of 5]

It's never unpleasant to read Billy Collins, but the payoffs of this collection's 51 poems seemed smaller than those of his Sailing Alone Around the Room. That's not surprising, given that the latter collects standout poems from his whole career. Still, this book's offerings often felt a little too light, too precious.

[John Curtis · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is what happens when a writer becomes a parody of his or herself. Billy Collins' stuff was charming and refreshing enough to get away with writing the same two or three poems over and over again for several books. However, a second decade of poems about wine, jazz, and laid-back Italian vacations tries one's patience.

[Graydon · Rating 4 out of 5]

I love Billy Collins! I have read most of this book, I like to pick it up now and again when I need to be reminded of what honest and uninhibited writing is like. Some of the poems I have read multiple times others I have yet to read.

[Matthew Huff · Rating 5 out of 5]

Marvelous. Collins' ability to transform a seemingly mundane detail into a poetic cosmos is simply excellent. He's got a lot of winners in this collection.

[Ellen Owen · Rating 3 out of 5]

I am not very knowledgeable about poetry - I tried to read this book slowly, not rushing and clattering the poems along. I liked the first two poems that folded one into the book- The Country I found charming. I was surprised, my favorite poem was the Great Walter Pater. I think some of the poems gave one pieces of things to think about. This was a quiet collection. At times - gentle. At times - not boring or unimportant just speaking to someone else, someone in the next room or down a row of houses. I appreciated his restrained use of language but found these poems touched my mind, little harrumph moments, or oh what a nice turn of phrase, rather than speaking to my heart. More like looking at pictures than listening to music. Some turns of thought, inside these stanzas, I found frustrating and somehow though I love boats - I found them funny, simple figures in these poems. More like a toy you’d toss into the bathtub than the real thing. This was a sedate sort of collection. It did talk about small moments in life which is always important - I just feel that I will remain respectful acquaintances with these poems, rather than friends, confidants or intellectual rivals. We didn’t have the best of chemistry.

[Karolay Capellan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Before it was over
I took out a pencil and a notepad
and figured out roughly what was left—
a small box of Octobers, a handful of Aprils,

little time to waste reading a large novel
on the couch every evenning,
a few candles flaming in the corners of the room.
A fishbowl of Mondays, a row of Fridays—

yet I cannot come up with anything
better than to strike a match,
settle in under a light blanket,
and open to the first sentence of Clarissa.

Billy Collins continues to be one of those poets I turn to whenever I need to feel like life is magical again. He has this gift, this ability to take ordinary moments and transform them into something ethereal, meaningful, and worth lingering on. Reading his poetry always brings me a sense of comfort.

Nine Horses, like probably all his collections, is full of very slow and quiet moments. He will tell you how the roadside flowers are the kind you are supposed to stop and look at, to appreciate the ride. He will describe his view in a way that makes you think, I want to have such a beautiful image in front of me right now… I would feel at peace. He will convince you that even though it might seem silly and wasteful, he wants to spend the rest of his life sitting in a chair, reading a big book every night.

My favorite poem in this entire collection was “Birthday,” which captures Billy’s fascination with wonder and the mundane in a way that no other poet can.

All I’ll say is this: I cannot wait to read my next Collins collection and get lost in his world of wonder and magic.

[J. Alfred · Rating 3 out of 5]

I like this Collins guy, which shouldn't be surprising. (As a friend said, He's the laureate, right, he better be good.)
I was charmed, more than blown away, I guess? And 'charming' is hardly the adjective one is striving for in art, at least since the Modernists taught us to equate anguish with seriousness. Yet there is an easy elegance and precision, combined with a gentility and humility-- a movement toward gratitude and contentment-- that could be very good for us all here. I declare this man and his work an ally in dejunking our minds.

Read these please:
https://gravyfromthegazebo.blog/2016/...
https://voetica.com/poem/5677

[Emily]

I read a lot of sad poetry dealing with heavy topics, so I picked this up because I wanted to read a collection that was mostly happy, clever, and playful for once, with only occasional moments of melancholy. Billy Collins delivered. Here were some of my favorite poems from the collection:

-Velocity
-Love
-Langour
-Creatures
-Rooms
-Litany
-The Return of the Key
-By a Swimming Pool Outside Siracusa
-Bermuda
-Death in New Orleans, a Romance
-To My Patron
-Writing in the Afterlife
-Poetry

[Wendy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Maybe its me, but I felt like a large number of these poems were meditations on mortality.

And then there is "Litany," which begins with a quote from one Jacques Crickillon: "You are the bread and the knife, the crystal goblet and the wine," but then goes on to exclaim "You are not the pine-scented air. There is no way you are the pine-scented air."

And it seems that the extremely ugly cover is actually a piece of art he has up in his dining room. To each his own.

[Katarzyna Bartoszynska · Rating 4 out of 5]

The first half is almost perfect. I had never read anything by Collins before, and I was so delighted by these poems, and their funny little surprises (a poem about Richardson's Clarissa?!). But the second half was not nearly as strong -- some terrific poems, but quite a few others that were cutesy, overly amused with their own cleverness, or just trite. I went back to the beginning, wondering if I'd been wrong, but nope, still fantastic. So it's uneven. But when it's good, it is SO good.

[Jeremy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Step one in my journey to read more individual poetry collections.

Billy Collins is good. Accessible without being lowbrow. At times has the ability to state the obvious with poetic beauty and profundity. A poem titled "Elk River Falls" begins "is where the Elk River falls". What more could you want from a line of poetry than that?

My favorite poems from this collection: "Nine Horses", "The Parade", "Balsa", "Bodhidharma".

[Ben Oldham · Rating 3 out of 5]

Parts of this are memorable. However, I am starting to feel as if Billy Collins writes a bit too much about what's right in front of him... literally: birds outside the house, whatever he sees from the car window, his writing desk... the original sin of poetry, writing ABOUT poetry...

Notable poems to reread:
- The Country
- Albany
- Rooms
- Elk River Falls