Seldom examined.      

               LOVER AND BELOVED✍️

Photo discovered on Facebook's 'memories'.   Wow!

Another Autobiographical Anomaly✍️

My memory, how is it working?
Reconstructing what I will,
But no matter how I will it,
Using tricks or keeping still,
It goes downhill while lurking.

Mostly, I can’t get the date
Or the event - details I railed at,
Smiled or wailed at.
Where I laid the pen just used;
That is NOT amusing.

Histamine.
I read that histamine boosts memory.
Priority.
What do I prioritise with ear, nose, eye?

My husband tells a story
But his story and the history keep changing.
Joke?
Sheer smoke based on illusion in the first place?
He’s an honest man.
Why change the plan or plane?
How to help boost our brain!
Enigma
And for some a stigma.

Diet, food:
The marvel is the wondrous good
It does in spite
Of all the things we don’t do right.
We’re losing neurons constantly
From ages six- or seventy.
Exercise:  
Training.  Learning.. Instrument.
Being bent on something!  Anything!
For just about all/everything is heaven sent.
That’s what I read
And what I think,
And where my intuition and my instinct lead.

Anyway, this poem is just another way to do it.
Renewing bits with any course available,
And one in which a syllable will stick.
The main thing is to get a kick
Out of the rhythmic lyric of our life.
Yes?

Another Autobiographical Anomaly 2.11.2019 Pure Nakedness II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Yup or nope?

I was reading Jazz Wax (a great site written by Marc Myers: highly recommended) where he was telling me that two of the ‘famous’ clubs I worked in in New York were ‘long gone’. I thought ‘long gone’ was a perfect title and so set immediately to work. This may not be the best of poetry. It only took me 20 minutes or so. But I like it anyway.

LONG GONE

I was reading Jazz Wax (a great site written by Marc Myers: highly recommended) where he was telling me that two of the ‘famous’ clubs I worked in in New York were ‘long gone’. I thought ‘long gone’ was a perfect title and so set immediately to work.  This may not be the best of poetry.  It only took me 20 minutes or so.  But I like it anyway.

             LONG GONE

“And here I was, thinking that the poems were too much of a burden for some! Thank you and bless you all! I write to be read. I write to share. I write from some magic, mysterious force and source”

DEAR GOD: A LETTER & A STATEMENT

COPYCATS ALL: AN ODE TO PEP YOU
(Revised. It lacked so much before✍️

We’re copycats all - and it’s healthy.
Coins have double sides, so naturally,
One can spend months, years, merely days
Courting the wrong face of one's pennies.
It can’t matter.
Everything we do is cluttered
(slight. very, copiously, lots)
The moment’s mind-state fixing choice.
So give your voice to instinct’s sense
That does SO matter
As you climb the human ladder,
Mindful of each phase's border;
Copying what touches, reaches,
Even from the cheapest bleachers.

As you climb each step,
This tiny ode is here to
Snap, push, pep you up
With vim and zip.
Copycats All: An Ode To Pep You 1.24.2019 Circling Round Reality; Arlene Nover Corwin

Wrote this immediately after seeing a documentary on the inscrutable, charismatic jazz pianist Lennie Tristano.  It took less than an hour - (the poem not the documentary).  I MUST have been inspired!
Arlene

        A Big Pile of Junk

This morning’s musing. Sent to special friends, as usual.

           Trying To Manipulate Vanity.

Here I was, watching the new Swedish prime minister Stefan Lofvén (pronounced Levain) giving his important program point by point on TV.  Intending after to edit my upcoming book Swedish Book. What happens?  Another thought and I’m wandering, not taking in each detail, each important name and role…. The following resulted:
Signed, Compulsive but not yet developed,
Arlene

Reflecting again and taking note.  Kisses, Arlene

Starting Out Of Time Again

There is part of a system of thought that says every time you dwell on the thought of people or things you lose sight of your self.  It makes sense because thought, its being an ephemeral, comes in and goes on to another at the speed of lightening. Where is the you in that moment? A you that is essential, the you you want to find out about, go into at will and stay for longer than that lightening.  

     The habit of thinking about people and things disallows that, discourages that, waters down the ability.  Result?   One is spending hours of the day reaching out to an illusion, a passing evaluation, an ever changing object.  Time wasted.

A little bored with myself, and feeling I needed the practice so as not to be stuck in a stagnation of inspiration I wrote: for other poets, becoming-poets and readers of anything:

                  POETRY IS THE MEANS ✍️

Poetry is the means
To viewing thought in new perspectives,
Finding more about the self,
Separating strength from weakness,
Plus from minus.
Each and every poet is
A deus
           ex machina.

Never literal,
A giant symbol
It a sign, it helps refine, define
A person’s true persona,
Things not known before the poem,
And the poet had no notion,
No ability to see
The deep, the silly,
*****-nilly-ness yet miracle of mind,
Its mysteries with tints and hints
Of revelations previously owned
By sages, holy men and masterminds.
Everything the human misses
In the daily-nesses of existence.

Poetry gives everything a gift can give:
Reward a push toward inner riches;
Means to keep reader in stitches;
Better stock of words not least;
Poetry is priest and beast and feast,
Grist for the mill
Of keeping still:
An agency of beauty.
That is poetry.

Poetry Is The Means 1.12.2018 The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative; Arlene Nover Corwin

This is always on my mind (almost).

      There Is A You Within The You

As is often the case, I found this idea on a scrap - started and unfinished some time ago.  I’ve whittled it down to a simplistic piece called in a file Defiant Doggerel.  A would-be collection one day.
           A Good Ethic

Hello everyone on this January 3rd! Lend an ear

Welcoming 2019

Year’s End Poetry

             Moments

It’s always you,
And all you do
Consists of moments:
Breathing, eating, acting and deciding -
Moments, nothing more;
The moment’s store
Become the whole of you
And yet continue.  
Think about it and take care,
Aware of every undertaking.
Brush each tooth for life and death.
Save the earth with each decision.
Leave derision
From,
And to,
And of
The mockers and the Trumps at home.
Each moment is your own.

Moments 12.30.2018 Our Times, Our Culture II; Nature In & Of Reality;  Arlene Nover Corwin

          Lazinesses

Have you ever noticed
How abstract and hard it is
To recognise a laziness;
So sneaky is the quality.
You’re fetching something from the pantry.
Purged a shelf from unused cans,
Pushed a dozen tins aside
When you decide,
“Well, I’ll leave this and that and t’other.
Too much bother!”
So the custard powder stays as is:
Is front just where you didn’t want it.
This means that the new baked beans
Which bought en masse, the price reduced
Are shrouded and obscured - again.
The daily looked-for hard discerned and
Doubly hard to lay one’s hands on.
Laziness has won.

Lazinesses 12.30.2018 Nature In & Of Reality; Arlene Nover Corwin

It’s simply amazing what phrases pop into one’s head and stick - and as they stay there they develop, and as they develop the inner life takes over and what started out a superficial bit of twaddle turns into poetry of some substance, proving anything can become anything with a little bit of reflection.

      I Am A Housewife

I am a housewife.
Organize and deputize,
Buy and cook,
See that everything’s delicious,
Making dishes at my best,
Matching wish of man and guest.


Preserving and conserving, I economize,
Hunting down the clever buys
So there’s savings at year’s end.  
Mix and blend creatively,
And when I shop
I stop and hesitate; contemplate
And seldom buy on impulse.
That said, I occasionally fall and do.

But mostly, shopping for our food’s
A yoga.  So’s the
Washing, cooking, dusting…more;
The most and best health giving chore:
Hands cleaner in the water,
Waistline smaller, reaching up and for…

No breadwinner,
But a winner baking bread.
Cakes and cookies all included.
For, of course, the friends and husband
Whom I feed,
Try to supply each need
Not because it is ‘the done thing’
But because it is the fun thing.

Then there’s me.  Filled with creativity.
Actually, a private soul
With my own needs to feel whole.
I do not underplay the housewife role
As many in society
Who downplay tractability and duty.
For to me it stands for beauty,
Not for slavery.

I am a being who serves house,
Deserves the house,  My house!  Our house!  
No mouse by any means
But combination heroine
And superstar,
Dishing out the wonder
Of existence
With insistence and persistence
For a comfy coexistence
Dishing out the dishes
And a family’s wishes.

I Am A Housewife 12.23.2018 Circling Around Woman II; Arlene over Woman II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Sometimes one just has to 'take the **** out of...’ and laugh at oneself! Philosophically, of course!

Mourning Song To A Face

You Can’t Beat A Book✍️

Right Time, Right Place

Found On Backs of Envelopes ✍️

Talent helps, but at the end
A chain of forces gives intent
Its form whose links
Are luck and karma,
Perseverance as its armour.

Pushing doggedly against the odds:
Time’s cycles, ups and downs,
Fenced in or pushing back or at
Rejection, vanity, the blocks
Of dailyness-es, laziness-es,
Each a hindrance stealing time.
Yet talent is the ground
Fed by the virtues which turn destinies around.

I’ve had this scrap since twenty four: two thousand four,
Which means it’s been
A household tenant fourteen years,
(I date my scribblings),
Its poetic siblings coming after
Several thousand crafted rhymes.

There’s a lesson here somewhere:
Save your bits of paper
Be they toilet, pamphlet, poster, letter…
Keep each ballpoint you collect -
Guidelines you will not regret
But laud, applaud one day
When someone reads the stuff you’ve had to say
And says “Hurray”!
All from not tossing out the scrap
Or throwing crap away!


Found On Backs Of Envelopes 12.17.2018 A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; The Processes: Creativity, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin

I Knew Her

I knew her;
With her ups and downs;
When she was productive, positive,
Knitting grytlappar, socker och trojor;
Not for self but for we others,
Starting projects, energetic and creative.

Knew her:
With her yearly birthday cake
To celebrate Pernilla, Patrick;
Knew her with her pretty legs, nice clothes, good taste,
Devotion to her Laila, Olga, birds and nature.
Yes, I knew her nature: happy, well and not.

Yet, you never know that whole entire;
Soul entire;
How she searched the Biblical,
For faith we all are searching for.

I knew her parts, her mind her heart,
Good and uneven.
If there is a heaven
“…for the Father’s house has many rooms
And many houses”…
And a place for everyone,
New life begun,
There she is in happiness,
Good health and peace.

I Knew Her 12.16.2018 Birth, Death & In Between III;

*Pia Johannson December 1. 2018

I had completely forgotten that I'd written a poem with the same name earlier this year.  Wholly different the one from the other.  What a brain!
I think the 2nd is better than the first.

          Being Remembered ✍️

Being Remembered

Dear anyone of any religion, any holiday - anytime during the year.  For you.
Love,
Arlene

                                  A Christmas Greeting

Circling Round Everything #2
                  2018

Never Out Of Season

Working it through.

      Ought One Bathe In Sorrow?

I was intuitively drawn to record yesterdays passing of beloved  Kent’s daughter Pia, 54.

          A Death In Families

By the way, I'm Arlene Corwin Poetry.com also.

      I Get These Offers✍️

You Can’t Beat A Book✍️

Whatever You Concentrate On (Is Where Your Mind Will Go)

In response to a TV insert on the feeling of remoteness and aloneness or, of someone who has lost a loved one.

To Those Who Feel Alone

On reading a 1997 interview with Saul Bellow who when asked about his near death experience at the age of 8 and then again at 80 something, said “I (still) have the feeling there are so many things to complete”.  (Gothenburg Post)

(There Are) Things To Complete✍️

My Unconventional Life (to be continued, surely)

The phrase came through at a sleepless 3am.  Couldn’t resist, of course.

I Like To Wash The Dishes

Another one of those days on a roll.  Wait until you see the next poem coming up. I Like To Wash The Dishes.  

      Finding Out The Truth

Today I Was Accused…
    Today I Was Accused…

Paradise Lost (Can’t Let It Go)

You've all heard of "A Space Odyssey".   This could be called "A Space Hypothesis".

Born Without The Empathy Gene

This is serious business, series stuff!  I hope it’s not too long to hold your attention. I don’t wish to try your patience.

        Days After: Post Birthday

Just Another Day…(Or Not?)

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