Finally!

I've made it back.  It doesn't feel like I've been that busy, but I've been reading a lot and playing too much Text Twist.  Man, who would have thought what a time sucker that game is!  Oh well.  I finally got around to writing another poem.  I have been reading poetry though.  I picked up a couple of books by Charles Bukowski.  He had a lot of talent, and even more stubbornness, I think.  He didn't come up with that many great lines, but the whole of his poems are very thought provoking.  He did one on our need for innocence that really resonated with me.  He said that if we didn't have it we would need to create it.  The problem is that once we create it, we have some kind of bizzare need to destroy it.  For some reason, that keyed an idea about change for me.  I don't know why, and don't even attempt to explain the process.  Anyway, here it is:

Changes

Sitting in another restaurant

   looking out the same window

     watching the season change

       before my eyes

         like last year

The season changes every year

   from green to white to green

     lots of red and yellow too

       fall got the cool colors

         biggest mix happens then

           in the fall

Summer and winter get green and white

   Spring gets pinks and red and yellow

     Every year they change

       from one to the other

         then change back

           to what they were

             last year

Watching everything change

   only to return to what they were

     makes me wonder

       about me

© 2011 Carl Thames

Still Here.

I haven't left the country, just busy with the school thing.  Midterm and all that.  I know, it's a shoddy excuse, but it's the only one I have.  I just wanted to pop in and let everyone know I haven't abandoned the blog, I've just been busy doing other things.

I do want to comment on an interesting phenomena.  I checked out a couple of the "Best poetry of 19xx" books and read through them.  For some odd reason, they didn't resonate like a book written by a single poet.  I wonder why that is?  These were all poems that had been published in various publications, but for some reason, they left me kind of flat.  Why would that be?  Maybe it was the mix of styles, flipping and flopping in too narrow a space?  I dunno.  I won't do that again, though.  I will continue to check out poetry books, but they're going to be by one poet.  I'm still mining great lines.

Well, gotta run.  More life stuff getting in the way.  Until later....