Former Poet Laureate of the USA, Billy Collins, has written two different poems about the Moon. As eclipse time is coming up shortly, what better time to include them in a blog?
I love his poems. They are simple and direct, yet quirky enough to retain fascination.
He writes about everyday things to which we can all relate.
Billy Collins was born on 22 March 1941 in New York City. His birthday (not year) is the same as my husband's, who took the photographs included in this post.
Billy Collins' natal Moon could lie in either Capricorn or Aquarius depending on his time of birth. If he was born before 6am the Moon would be in Capricorn. I suspect he was born later, with Moon in Aquarius - just a feeling I get, using my own Aquarian antenna.
He does have quite an Earthy chart, with 5 planets in Earth signs. That didn't surprise me, it matches his down to earth style and choice of subjects. His Mercury and Venus lie in Pisces, I think this softens any inclination to be overly prosaic, and lends a touch of whimsicality to much of his work.
His Aries Sun conjoins the south node of the Moon. There was a lunar eclipse on 13 March and a solar eclipse on 27 March in 1941, so he was born between the two. His work is very popular, even among those people who don't usually like poetry. The Moon is said to represent the public or "common people" in mundane astrology, which might well be significant here.
I'm not confident about interpreting either the Moon's nodes or the effect of eclipses. Astrologers vary in their opinions on these matters, some go way beyond what I'm comfortable with. I'm pretty sure, though, from my own life experience, that the Moon's nodes are sensitive points in the chart, and that the cycle of the nodal axis can mark the turning of chapters in one's life, especially when a planet is conjunct a node natally.
In Billy Collins' case I'd hazard a guess that the Moon, its nodes, their cycles, and perhaps the eclipses have played a significant part in the way his life has unfolded.
Invention
Tonight the moon is a cracker,
with a bite out of it
floating in the night,
and in a week or so
according to the calendar
it will probably look
like a silver football,
and nine, maybe ten days ago
it reminded me of a thin bright claw.
But eventually --
by the end of the month,
I reckon --
it will waste away
to nothing,
nothing but stars in the sky,
and I will have a few nights
to myself,
a little time to rest my jittery pen.
Photograph, of "the silver football" taken by my husband outside Thunderbird Casino, Norman, Oklahoma, after a
concert. The "cracker with a bite out of it" was taken earlier this week, from our front yard.
The Man in the Moon
He used to frighten me in the nights of childhood,
the wide adult face, enormous, stern, aloft.
I could not imagine such loneliness, such coldness.
But tonight as I drive home over these hilly roads
I see him sinking behind stands of winter trees
and rising again to show his familiar face.
And when he comes into full view over open fields
he looks like a young man who has fallen in love
with the dark earth,
a pale bachelor, well-groomed and full of melancholy,
his round mouth open
as if he had just broken into song.
I love his poems. They are simple and direct, yet quirky enough to retain fascination.
He writes about everyday things to which we can all relate.
Billy Collins was born on 22 March 1941 in New York City. His birthday (not year) is the same as my husband's, who took the photographs included in this post.
Billy Collins' natal Moon could lie in either Capricorn or Aquarius depending on his time of birth. If he was born before 6am the Moon would be in Capricorn. I suspect he was born later, with Moon in Aquarius - just a feeling I get, using my own Aquarian antenna.
He does have quite an Earthy chart, with 5 planets in Earth signs. That didn't surprise me, it matches his down to earth style and choice of subjects. His Mercury and Venus lie in Pisces, I think this softens any inclination to be overly prosaic, and lends a touch of whimsicality to much of his work.
His Aries Sun conjoins the south node of the Moon. There was a lunar eclipse on 13 March and a solar eclipse on 27 March in 1941, so he was born between the two. His work is very popular, even among those people who don't usually like poetry. The Moon is said to represent the public or "common people" in mundane astrology, which might well be significant here.
I'm not confident about interpreting either the Moon's nodes or the effect of eclipses. Astrologers vary in their opinions on these matters, some go way beyond what I'm comfortable with. I'm pretty sure, though, from my own life experience, that the Moon's nodes are sensitive points in the chart, and that the cycle of the nodal axis can mark the turning of chapters in one's life, especially when a planet is conjunct a node natally.
In Billy Collins' case I'd hazard a guess that the Moon, its nodes, their cycles, and perhaps the eclipses have played a significant part in the way his life has unfolded.
Invention
Tonight the moon is a cracker,
with a bite out of it
floating in the night,
and in a week or so
according to the calendar
it will probably look
like a silver football,
and nine, maybe ten days ago
it reminded me of a thin bright claw.
But eventually --
by the end of the month,
I reckon --
it will waste away
to nothing,
nothing but stars in the sky,
and I will have a few nights
to myself,
a little time to rest my jittery pen.
Photograph, of "the silver football" taken by my husband outside Thunderbird Casino, Norman, Oklahoma, after a
concert. The "cracker with a bite out of it" was taken earlier this week, from our front yard.
The Man in the Moon
He used to frighten me in the nights of childhood,
the wide adult face, enormous, stern, aloft.
I could not imagine such loneliness, such coldness.
But tonight as I drive home over these hilly roads
I see him sinking behind stands of winter trees
and rising again to show his familiar face.
And when he comes into full view over open fields
he looks like a young man who has fallen in love
with the dark earth,
a pale bachelor, well-groomed and full of melancholy,
his round mouth open
as if he had just broken into song.
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