Judge for yourself. There are other sites as well.
I really couldn't find anything in my search, which admittedly was cursory (no pun intended), which I would even compare with the translations of Pablo Neruda's work. (By the way, he's not my favorite, either.)
I commented to others that a writer like Louis L'Amour had moments of descriptive passage that were far more moving and evocative than Mr. Collins presentations that I have seen so far.
When I read Mr. Collins' work, I get what he is saying, but I don't find it any more impressive or memorable than a standard newspaper paragraph.
To me, poetry is about using words to evoke images, feelings, and ideas. Mr. Collins expresses his ideas, but his emotions are as cold as a butter-knife.
Predecessors in the role of poet laureate have been such as Robert Frost. I'm not sure what standards are used in these selections, but they aren't mine.
Apparently, for Nobel, and Poet, Laureates, and undoubtedly also for Presidents, things ain't the way they used to be.
(My poem follows).
The Stairway
The stairway always beckoned me,
Spilling out, as it did, like the offering,
Tumbling from the horn of plenty,
Gently laying out its proffering.
The wide base, and carved curlicues,
Evidence from months of effort such,
That craftsmen who must love their work,
Thus kissed it with their gentle touch.
Adventure waited! I could see,
Rising steady to unsteady tread,
Forbidden things, or, that must wait,
Until I could be trusted, Mother said.
To stand unshakily upon my feet,
To have the sense to hold the rail,
And with the blessing of my mother's gaze,
Begin my newest mountain to assail!
Then would the stairway narrow some,
No need to be the funnel that I saw.
Constraining thus my journey to a place,
To turn around and realize with awe,
That stairways will give rise to those who need it,
And safely bring us down to earth again,
The give and take of come and go,
Is based upon the flights of mortal men.
NicknamedBob . . . . . . . March 16, 2012