Andrew Chavez provides a large representative sampling of the poetry that is part of his exploratory journey leading to the final development of his perspective called a new romanticism. Chavez turned to poetry because of intense revelatory experiences; those same revelations guide and direct his work. A reader is allowed an opportunity to follow the ups and downs, the misdirections, errors, and pitfalls that were part of the unique process of discovery. The poetry strives to be as direct, clear, and brief as possible. Chavez believes that a thinking mind with something to say has a natural melody to those expressions. The job of the poet is to say what needs to be said then stop. There is no law of poetry guiding length. A poem should be as long, or short, as necessary to say, tell, or show whatever needs to be said, told, or shown.

A NEW ROMANTICISM

The Collected Poetry Volume TwoBy ANDREW CHAVEZ

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 Andrew Chavez
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4670-4390-8

Chapter One

           GOODNESS, HOW TIRED


    Goodness, how tired, old, and worn I feel.
    I'd like to forget everything all together;
    Wander away to a forest or desert plain
    There to tend sheep or live the life of a forgotten hermit.

    It seems that after a million steps
    I haven't gone anywhere forward
    So I laugh to choke back tears.

    What am I to do?
    My efforts lead to nothing;
    My progress is a steady march of marking time.
    What use to hasten my pace
    If a flurry of activity only gains exhaustion
    Without moving so much as an inch?

    I could say tomorrow is another day
    But that itself points to what I fear.
    What's left but to trod along as I usually do
    Despite the manner of my curious motion
    While hoping that somehow things will get better?


            IT SEEMS THAT NEVER
            HAS A MAN LOVED

    It seems that never has a man loved
    Nor a woman been more deserving.

    I have to divert myself with a tale,
    Yes, it's of a woman, and beautiful
    Far beyond those babes of yore; indeed,
    Those others, although poets lauded them yesterday,
    Today they suffer a grave defect, true,
    They are dead, yet this one that I talk of
    Is alive and willing. Willing to what?
    Why, to be called on, to spend the day with a guy,
    The night, too, but there she's wary
    Saying an easy love forgets easily,
    But she makes nothing easy, her motto: aloof,
    And yet, for accessibility she's like sunshine;
    Like the very air all engulfing, supporting, and encouraging
    But invisible walls are erected around her
    To guard against a too vociferous or hands-on admirer.

    I think she means to drive me crazy
    Being a world of contradictions: soft yet rough,
    Kind but mean, easy and difficult, promising but denying,
    With come-on beauty that flares dreadful fires of doubtless doom
    Whenever I try to get closer.

    This ferocious tenderness, dark light,
    Brutal civility, and hopeless dreaming
    Has me submissive and rebelling.


           WHEN I WALK INTO
            THIS TERRITORY

    When I walk into this territory
    I'm still not fully aware of what to do
    So I try myself here by wandering over the grounds
    Merely to get a feel for the place with my own two feet;
    I speak to hear the sound of my own voice
    Testing whether there's an echo or if my voice falters,
    Cracks or becomes gruff, or strains toward high or awkward
    pitches.

    Strolling, I get to know what my surroundings are
    In the way of forests, lakes, pastures, rivers, and hills;
    I find out what birds, snakes, insects, cattle, coyotes, and people
    Are living in this domain.

    What am I saying but that this land seems like new
    Although I've wandered here many times
    And return whenever I'm able?

    If Thoreau had his Walden Pond
    And Whitman his Leaves of Grass
    Then here I claim my own terrain
    And call it my Progressively Changing Prairie.


            IN BROOKVILLE

    I was reading in my study;
    I kept hearing laughter
    So I got up and looked through the front door
    And out across a large field across the street;
    There, two girls, both about ten years old,
    Were climbing on the large blocking equipment
    Used by the local high school football team.

    They were climbing the upright columns,
    The tall padded portions,
    And when they reached the proper height,
    The structure would fall forward.
    The girls screamed and laughed as they fell down.
    Once on the ground
    They stood the equipment back up into the ready position
    And did the whole thing again.


            I WAS WORKING AND LIVING IN
          COFFEYVILLE

    I was working and living in Coffeyville at the time
    But kept my usual apartment in Manhattan
    And once during a regular visit from Coffeyville to Manhattan
    I learned that it was Band Day
    And that bands from around the region
    Would soon be marching down mainstreet.
    I found a spot to watch the parade and waited.

    The first band started to march down Poyntz Avenue
    And was followed by another; then another.
    They were high school bands from all over the state
    And were dressed in full regalia;
    Some of the bands were large and expensively dressed
    While others were very small and wore slacks and T-shirts.

    I enjoyed watching and listening to them all.
    I knew those people; lived and worked in their towns
    From Wamego to Downs; from Topeka to Marysville.
    I noticed each town banner and recalled each one pleasantly.

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