I expect this will get some strong anti-comments, the very mention of G_d often being a source of contention and vexation for some.  We'll see.  
    Letter To God🧘‍♀️

Dear God,
I asked you to control my day
Take over whatsoever comes my way,
Well aware, for goodness sake
It’s you who have supremacy.
(You or That or It - who cares?)
Energy directive, prime and rare).

It is a bit embarrassing because I know,
At least discern
A well few poets who convey
A God-ie language publicly.
It isn’t ‘in’.

I’m not religious, not fanatic,
But to go inside the attic of the mind and find out more,
Then write it down, I have to take the chance of boring
All the others who have not  
The need to say, pray, meditate or concentrate,
Think, question all the bigger contemplative questions
                                               of existence:
For example how we…who we… where we go:
Birth, breath, life, death:, seeds to sow.

And so the first thing in the day
I meditate or pray
Using words or saying nothing.
It’s a process with authority.
That seems to guide, hold sway
And influence behaviour,
Healing slumps, the ‘dumps’, grumpiness and moping -
Maybe not concealing’s right: a good thing.

I’d no intention of divulging
This inaudible, non-public action.
But there’s nothing wrong with making known
This ‘sort of’ godly telephone
And inmost conversation.

Anyway, I’m in the mood, the neighborhood
And as I said prosaically,
Perhaps it will do someone good.

Letter To God 1.19.2020 To The Child Mystic II; The Processes: Creative.Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin

The Great Communicator
             (self confidence, low self-esteem)

He eats the cake, the bread home baked;
He never asks or comments.
Eats in silence.

There are men with little interest,
Curiosity, desire to know;
Silent husbands
With repeated jokes, repeated patterns;
Showing growth, but oh, so slowly.
Holy moly!.
Passive in aggression, but aggression there.
Defensive, self-protective;
Inner stuff that doesn’t dare,
Except in dreams when he is violent.
Mostly silent,
He observes the weather, future seasons.
He can reason, have his reasons
Sometimes faulty, sometimes right.
Doesn’t recognise a compliment - can’t take it in.
Apologize? It doesn’t happen.
And those violent jerks at night!
Reveal a healing that has never taken place:
The chases, villainous and shadowed faces, traces of what nowadays
Is called low self-esteem.
It’s natural one wants to scream, become a fem-
                                                                             inist.
It’s so unnerving!
Serving no one in particular.
Who needs a ‘great communicator’
Like the one who wants no insight.

exclamation US dated or humorous
used to express surprise or dismay: holy moly, this is exciting news!
ORIGIN
late 19th century: alteration of holy Moses, popularized in the 1940s by the character Captain Marvel in DC Comics' comic book of the same name.
The Great Communicator 2.17.2020 Pure Nakedness II; Love Relationships II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Writing all the time, dreaming about good rhyme, meter, theme, here’s what I scribbled last night in bed, watching TV.

     Everything Comes To An End, Or Does It?

Walking down the avenue,
Masses walking toward me,
Thinking all too suddenly:
“None of you will be here
In a hundred years”

Then again watching the telly
(British English for TV)
Witness to a documentary
(BBC coincidentally)
“Forsaken Structures” (do not quote me)
Buildings, bridges, monumental fixtures,
                                pictures, architectures...
Seeing these phantasmagoria
Fanatical and gory, built for lasting glory
Disappear rot, lost to time,
Corroding or exploding;  stored in history.
So it goes,
As often said, ‘the way the wind blows’.

Now for the gigantic BUT…
Everything comes to an end - or does it?
Does it turn, re-turn transformed, renewed?
Expansion and contraction going on and on and on…
Is the law of cause/effect a law or non-?
Strolling avenue-rs come again, again,
Each soul etern-
                         al?

Everything Comes To An End… 2.16.2020 Birth, Death & In Between III; Arlene Nover Corwin

Many Hours, Many Days

So many wonder, many ask
About the writing: task
Or inspiration?
I say perspiration.
(not exactly, for there’s joy and fun
in reading what you’ve ultimately done)
Still yet,
It’s work and effort,
Spadework fundamental, elemental;
Work, but also preparation mental
                                   for what is to follow
All the golden yellow years to come.
First a phrase, a thought, a sight,
A theme the middle of the night.
The paper, pen, computer close;
The start of slogging elbow grease.

First draft, still filled by sweat
May probably be filled with sh_t.
It doesn’t matter, for
The after-write will be to edit.

Changes, flexibility, ability to cross things out,
Delete, expunge, all but destroy…
There is a certain joy in that.
But still, it’s to exert an effort.
To create is always effort.
To excite and rouse yourself an effort always
Work, but worth it.

Here’s the send-off:
In the end and after years
It’s actually easier.
The fears that held you back have disappeared.
Ideas developed, riper.
Technique, range your own:
It’s called a style.  You’ve a rone,*
A drainpipe in your brain
To carry off unwanted stuff
And carry on much wanted t-raining.

Many hours, many days in which to raise your standard.
Many years of joy and tears -
It all adds up up to guarantees and widened spheres
Of self-esteem and understanding.

*a gutter for carrying off rain from a roof:
Many Hours, Many Days 2.12.2020 The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin

I’ve written about doctor care before - two or three poems.  My back is hurting and I don’t know why.  I’ll try once more to find a reason and/or treatment.  

      Just Thinking

Such doubts
About
So many things -
Shadows, bags, those awful rings;
Answers one seems to not get
Concerning age’s yet debated issues,
Thrown around like used up tissues.

Falling hair, backbone hurting -
Here and there uncertainty.
Is it a kidney?  Old or recent?
Every enquiry to be decided
While one feels derailed, derided.

Lots of, loads of telephoning,
Steps before one
                           reaches someone;
No one seems to own or loan a way to ask.
You’re in a casket prematurely,
(which means much too, MUCH TOO soon).

What’s this? Substance and significance?
What, the chances of a cure?
“I’m not sure”, one sometimes hears.
“It’s not my specialty.” The doctor bears
No blame, no shame.
C’est domage!  
The damage does not have a name.

One knows that doctors have great stress.
That they say “Yes, I’ll help”, and try.
Meanwhile one winces, yelps or cries
When pains unknown are thrown up, shown up
To be borne with courage,
Taking age as it will come.
** hum, just thinking.
JustThinking 2.11.2020 Nature Of & In Reality; Circling Round Experience; Arlene Nover Corwin

Seeing God In  Everything

Make it a habit to see God in everything.
To go inside the biologic brain
And train.
The practice simple but not easy
Time and effort: key.

Repetition means repeat;
It also means rehearse.
It has the power to reverse
What feels a curse to grace,
A sense that everything is in your favour,
Savouring its flavour
In Itself a nice affair.  
It needs a run-through every day
Or else the feeling gets away.

It’s hard to not take note of pain
Which comes again, again, again…
A something you can’t comprehend.
The man I live with renders
                                       thanks
Each morning when the body wakes,
Though there is pain he cannot shake.
Perhaps that is the way to solve
A problem unresolvable:
Wait, translate, try to love an obscure It above.

Faith: a puzzle all its own.
A koan. A hurdle.  Complication.
Yet we take on faith coin’s worth;
A sun, moon, star
Which always have been always are…
We trust the unseen power source:
Atoms, protons just because
We know they’re laws.
                    
If one can take a a blind belief
Finding that it gives relief-  
A circumstance wished for
Has been dished up suddenly.
Why not start to practice seeing
God and good in the entirety
                       of your existence,
Giving in without resistance
What comes fleetingly each moment
And what comes fittingly to be!

Seeing God In Everything 2.10.2020  God Book II; Circling Round Reality; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;  Circling Round Meditation; Arlene Nover Corwin

Tomorrow is my beloved Swedish Kent's birthday - a day he completely rejects.  I do not, writing this birthday poem which I will present to him in spite of all protestations. I'll bet he loves it!
         An Icke* Birthday

“I have no birthday” you insist.
Bemused, a bit confused
Reflecting, un-rejecting, I conclude,
“Good for you!
You never need add numbers to
Your written age.
You’ll grow more sage
Without a wrinkle.
Passing years will never sink you,
You who have no birthday,
Never born,
Never gone.”

At any rate,
I celebrate
This date
And will continue every eight,
For February is your birthday.
Enjoy the numberless-ness in your way.

So if I may,
I’d like to take you out to lunch
To munch on something to your taste.
Why waste an eight?
Why wait?
We’ll go to lunch sometime this week,
Take
       our big car somewhere
To crunch on something nice to eat.
Peaceful, sweet,
We’ll have a great
                            non-birthday dear!
Your icke- birthday’s growing near.

An Icke- Birthday 2.8.2020 Birthday Book; Arlene Nover Book
*icke; Swedish for non-