The Rain in Portugal: Poems Hardcover – Deckle Edge, October 4, 2016

Billy Collins is his usual, offhand self here, but the effort appears mailed in. It's like he decided that not only may we reject formalism, but also any pretense to quality. A thin submission.That said, his elegiac homage to a male piss was brilliant (if also aware of its audience):It’s very peaceful pissing under the stars or beneath the mild colors of twilight, so refreshing to take a deep breath outdoors then exhale all the woes of the day and even the longer woes and thorns of the year. Such a calm descends like a calm descending as you piss from a dock into a wavy lake and think about your many brethren, spread out across the land, pissing tonight against a tree beyond the circle of a campsite or watering a flowering bush at a corner of a lawn.If only more brothers recognized their shared brotherhood in a piss, we would all be better off.

Beautiful poems, as always, from Collins. If you have enjoyed his previous works, then I have no doubt you will enjoy the verses in this volume. This is not to say if you are new to Collins that this collection is inaccessible at all. What I like about Collins is that I can use many of his poems with students of a wide variety of ages and they engage with and understand his work. He is even anthologized in some textbooks I have used. A great read for the lover of literature, and a great resource for teachers.

I will admit right off that I don’t read much poetry. I was once, briefly, the owner of an audio anthology of The Best Poems of some year or other, one that included a poem by Anne Carson (“Tolstoy thought that if Kant had not smoked so much tobacco–‘The Critique of Pure Reason’ would have been written in-language you could understand”) and ‘Publication Date’ by Franz Wright (“A sparrow limps past on its little bone crutch saying-I am Federico Garcia Lorca-risen from the dead–literature will lose, sunlight will win, don’t worry”) but after I finished that anthology I loaned it to a friend, and she thought it was great, so I told her that she could keep it. And I don’t recall ever having read a review of a book of poems.But I do like a good book title, and when I saw “The Rain in Portugal” on the ‘new books’ shelf of the public library, and learned from its cover that it was a book of poems, I said to myself “That is a witty title for a book of poems,” and I had a look at the contents pages, to see if there actually was a poem about the rain in Portugal. I did not find one. It appeared that the author was not up to the task, so I put the book back on the shelf. But, that night, as I was getting under the covers, I asked myself “How difficult would it be to compose a poem about the rain in Portugal?” and, in order to find out, I gave it a try. I fell asleep in about two minutes, but it seemed to me that in that time I did actually manage to compose something, or at least managed to dream that I had. I was surprised the next morning when, with a little effort, I was able to recall the piece. Here it is:The rain in Portugal is the sort you ought to seeFalling on the mountains so light and sprinkle-yDraping the ferns with jewels and the toads upon their stoolsProclaim that some Portuguese rain is just as nice as Portugal can beAs I contemplated this result, it occurred to me that while Mr. Collins’ book did not contain a poem titled “The Rain in Portugal,” it might contain a poem that made some sort of reference to that subject, so I went back to the library and borrowed the book. I found that I had guessed correctly. And, since I now had the book out on loan from the library, I read the rest of the poems.Mr. Collins’ poems are, when you get right down to it, prose. I feel it is okay for me to say this, because he is a past Poet Laureate of the United States, so he won’t be losing any sleep over anything I have to say, especially after reading my poem. The poems in his book are mostly breezy, fun and okay. Reading them won’t do you any harm. Here is one of the more melancholy: After she swiveled on a heel and headed with a flip of the ponytail toward Grand Central Station I watched her disappear into the crowd the way a forest may disappear into its trees And then I too began to disappear, a scrivener’s eraser rubbing out the pencil lines of my being Now neither of us was either here nor there and would fail to make our mark on the history of civilization And that reminded me of the day I stood in a museum before a somber painting then bent close to read the little printed card that told me it was a portrait of an anonymous Dutch family by an anonymous Dutch artistSo, actually borrowing “The Rain in Portugal” turned out to be a good thing. I will probably have a look at some more of Mr. Collins’ work, sooner or later.And, do you know, it also rains in Uzbekistan. Feel free.

This, or any others written by Billy Collins, is the book for people who think they don't like poetry. Easy to understand, often humorous, but the kind of writing that makes you think. You'll admire how he gives interesting twists on everyday, ordinary happenings.

Every time I put down a book Billy Collin's has written, I'm left satisfied. He has such a delightful way of telling a story that is occupying his mind. Frequently, I find myself cracking a sly smile when it gets a bit sarcastic or even in the truth-telling. Such a good writer!

I love Billy Collins. I'm always surprised when I find out someone hasn't heard of him. The more I read of his work, the more I want to read. Collins is what poetry should be about!

Billy Collins touches my heart, makes me smile and...occasionally, wonderfully...makes me laugh out loud. He puts Prufrock...and Adam and Eve...in accessible places. For that alone I will love him forever. This collection speaks of aging in comforting ways. Bliss.

It's his usual everyday observational stuff with occasional glimpses of humor and literary depth. Not his finest collection, honestly, but good enough to warrant recommendation. For all his disdain of the descriptor "accessible," he didn't do much here to change that perception of his work. And that can be a good thing, depending on the reader.

This was a gift and was received with pleasure! Great service - thank you

What would I not like about my favourite poet the answer is zero

Easy to read thoughts that you might have from time to time, but they are usually best left as forgotten.

Mr. Collins has always written pleasant, accessible, undemanding poems. His previous collections are excellent to read in the morning, over toast and coffee and orange juice. They open up a world of intelligent observation and they make me happy. This one feels like apercus in cursive fonts on blurry posters of forests and mountains. Overwrought and a bit too pleased with themselves, like this review.