(Watching the oncoming hurricane Maria.  The 2nd in two weeks – same place)

   Death Is Always In My Mind

Death is always on my mind
In one way or another.
Lying there sneakily,
Shaking me
When something happens on TV.
All around a violence:
In the weather, in the city,
In our children, in the poverty:
Calamity.
How to stay calm lamb myself;
A question half my brain
                            is taken up with.

Hurricanes, shoulder pains,
Underlying wonderings.
Questions without answers;
Wishes not yet answered.

And the time!
Always the passing
Without chance of stopping;
In the stars, the planets;
In the ants & stones & plants.
Yet a cup of coffee
And the world is right.
All the worries of the night
Transformed,
And energy to right my life -
If not the world –
Uncurled -
Thus one goes forward.

Death Is Always On My Mind 9.19.2017
Pure Nakedness; Nature Of & In Reality; Our Times, Our Culture II; Birth, Death & In Between II:
Arlene Corwin

Deciphering Meanings

Poetry is wonderful.  Lying here and this came out.


Delving Into Life’s Significance

In silence or with voice;
To reach spirit or relax,
Using any means that works
To fix the mind is meditation.

Not heroics or polemics,
Not mechanics or semantics:
Any means to coax a mind
To find more than it knows itself.
Something far, yet in itself.
A focussing that brings to life
A state normally hidden
And unbidden.

You can speculate yourself to death,
Still not have breadth;  
Think,  reflect, deliberate,
Ruminate and contemplate .
Still not ‘get it’.
There’s an ‘it’ that has no plot
One day ‘it’ just shows up.
You know more than you knew before
You find a ‘you, not shown before.
You’re where you are.
And happier.

There is a word ‘sublunary’
Which means those who are ‘worldly,
Which, in turn, means most of us.
Then there are those whose tendency
Is numinous -
A living in not of the world:
A flag unfurled.  
To them the stanzas up above
Are relevant enough to prove
There is a better way to live,
To solve, evolve and delve
Into existence and its meaning.

Delving Into Life’s Significance 5.5.2021 Circling Around Everything Ii; Circling Around Experience; Arlene Nover corwin

Detachment

I only wish that I were smarter.
Smarter is a starter
That can help in dealing with a matter;
Bring awareness to the whole.
(be it bowl or foal or jowl or vowel).

Yet I’m smart enough to roll  
Around inside my head
Things read, things said -
And without knowing where I‘m going,
Using synthesis and heart,
Get to some conclusion
I’d no inkling at the start.

With detachment
But not distant or aloof,
It becomes a state where mind dictates
With fairness, and then, ****!
Seeing sides that I’d not guessed were there,
There they are, staring me right in the face,
The space filled with but one desire:
To write an excellent poem!

Using homely word formation,
Something in me tackling issues
From the street talk of my childhood station.
To cues taken the abstruseness.

With the first idea a preconception,
And a gift for self-reflection.
It’s a doubly living counterpart:
One not-really-smart facade  
Echoing the outside bard,
And one that always  looks inside
And finds a chord
That’s fresh and new (or one or two).
A movement of improvement.

Being cool is part
Of being smart.
A clue
To an innate IQ
That doesn’t always show
Until you grow into it.

Detachment 7.19.2020 Definitely Didactic II; Circling Round Experience; Arlene Nover Corwin

I've added a line: "Even fish feel while they swish!"  
          Doddery

Am I getting doddery,
Long in the tooth,
Long dead to youth?
Or sensible, experienced, mature,
Deploring times and crimes of culture?

I feel pain, must look away
When I see creatures run, swim, fly
Abused,
Unfelt for,
Victimised.

**** fight, horse race, injured, forced;
Elephant, rhinoceros, without tusk;
Even fish feel while they swish;
Hunted whales or seals or tuna.
Turned into a grilled hamburger
I no longer eat frankfurter…
What the heck is wrong with me?
Who out there sees what I see?
*doddery;
slow and unsteady in movement because of weakness in old age: he's a bit doddery on his legs and doesn't get about much.

Doddery 5.18.2021 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Does He Still Deny A Climate Change?
    (asked by the least political of observers)

Is he denying still,
Or is he stalling, stone(y)walling
Wailing about other things,
Like Mexicans and walls while slinging
Maddening, outrageous barbs
About the so-called loss of jobs
To South Korea while a North Korean
TV lady sobs with joy
About a bomb to be employed
(You all know which I mean)
That starts a chain
That takes out half a planet.

Does he still encourage fossil fuel production
Leading in the wrong direction?
Does he not see rising seas
And floods and famines and disease
Around and as potential?
Heats and droughts and quakes to come?
Or does he see the states as humming?
Self-deception quintessential:
Lies.
Who can call it otherwise?

What is a lie?
And how does one get by with lying
And denying, falsifying, flying
In the face of truth
As often as he tries – no, does.
With head, mind, pen, hand buzzing
I shall stop! But you, my friend
May make a noise, examine cause, while empathizing
Till an end.
This being written off the cuff,
Now it is time to send this off
Into the world of cyber.  

Does He Still Deny A Climate Change 9.3.2017
Our Times, Our Culture II;
Arlene Corwin

To all my Facebook friends who have and do not open it, or my non-Facebook friends do not have it at all.   Also to my friends who have never opened my Arlene Corwin Poetry.com site but who I think might be interested in this speculation.

       Does The Universe Have Consciousness?

Yup or nope?

Doing It All

I’m doing it all:
Publishing, editing,
Getting the meter right,
Developing a theme
Which I  may rhyme or not.
Modifying, reappraising,
Going through with laser eyes;

Taking hours, days, weeks…
(Years because I tinker),
After all, I am the thinker and re-thinker,
And there’s no one there to help.
I am the pulp,
The flesh and bones
Who goes it all alone
Out of conviction,
Inner aspiration,
Internal prodding
From a living and supposed God…

I guess I’m not so all alone,
Without assistance
In the instances of writing,
Since I’m citing someone higher as as cicerone.

Doing It All 10.11.2018 The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Doing Justice To Poetry✍️

This is a long one!  But it’s an answer.  Yes?  

      Do More Research

“Do more research!”
That’s what I told my doctor
When he said, “I have no answer”,
I responded, “Do research!”
To which he answered,
Nether jokingly nor mocking me.
"I’ve got all these patients… masses… “

I said, “Then it’s up to you to do some more!
It helps the rich, it helps the poor.
If I am helped, it will help all,
The big, the small.”
He’d  put me on the spot.
He said, “Perhaps you’s like to change your doc?”
It shocked, of course.
My only course was to reply,
-Oh me, oh my! Of course I don’t!
And then I left.

Reliant on a Google font,
On Wiki- this, or Wiki- that!
My only course, of course,
Was to search on my own.
Research my illness up and down,
A clown in search of a solution.

If I may, a not-too-nice person
Offering advice to a profession,
Indispensable to all and each,
Not besmirching and/or preaching,
I say this: Do more research!

We, but wretches without knowledge,
You, eight stretched out years at college!
With your know-how, you know how to fetch the facts.
So act! We’re waiting for a salve
To work on our finite behalf.
March straight right to the books you have,
And do research. It’s us you save!

You and we are all betrothed.
Do not leave us in the lurch.
It’s in your oath.
You with all your education.
Medicine, its limitation.
Do more research!

Do More Research 7.27.2020 Our Times, Our Culture II; Circling Round Experience; Arlene Nover Corwin

Don’t Copy Or, Have I Said This One Before? ✍️

When I write I try to not write what I’ve writ
The months before, knowing that
Each three clichés, each thrice said phrase
Is hinder to the mind’s synapse.

Used-up words five times five hundred,
Never wond'ring why I’ve done it:
I don’t want to copy -
Least of all myself and me. 

Falling for the trick that quickens death of brain
Are quirks and quips and bits of what
You’re sure has happened, quoted over, over.
Mind’s a rover needing change.

I have friends who still say “weird” to amplify each seventh word;
“Weird” since nineteen eighty-four.
What it means I’ve no idea.
And what is that word  ‘weird’ good for?
Change the words,
For copying yourself is worst.

Am I copying my back life story?
Parroting, regurgitating clichés,
Making up my history?
Faking mystery
To make myself exciting?

Copying is weakening
For you, for me, for memory.
Variety’s the key.
You do not need to copy.

     PS There’s a red line running through our lives: character, aptitudes, permanent throughout.  Bones grow up, grow old and change.  Penmanship changes.  Underneath there’s always a youyou recognize.  Keep it in the frontal lobe.  It’s there.

Don’t Copy 3.1.2015/revised 2.3.2016/ re-revised 9.27.2018 Definitely Didactic II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Don’t Copy Or, Have I Said This One Before?

Don't Eat Anything That Can Run Away From You


Do not eat a creature that can run away from you.

Is that too much a task to ask?

Chances are that if it can – if it can run,

And running’s not from simple fun,

It’s scared, has pain, a brain like yours.  It’s suffering.

So if it relays to legs four

To spring from harm and/or from killing,

My admonishment is this: be willing

To NOT eat this thinking, feeling, fleeing treat.

It is not mete to turn this flesh into a meal,

Make an object from a subject that can feel;

Act unmasks the cruel toxicity of villainry,

Defeats the heart of mercy,

Ergo,

Do not eat the thing that seeks to run away from you.

*I first heard George Osawa, the creator of macrobiotics say it in Chico, California 1963.

Don’t Eat Anything That Can Run Away From You 4.19.2018 Nature In & Of Reality; Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Corwin

Don’t Look Now, But Poetry Is In

If you’re reading this you know it:
Poetry is in.
Read and written
By those one or two aware or metaphysical,
Those more than few in love, depressed,
Oppressed, repressed;
Just pressed to write.

It’s right to write a stanza,
A romance -a, spectacular extravaganza
For whatever and wherever
There’s
A public where
There wasn’t.

Rhyme, no rhyme,
Minus meter,
Syntax less or more,
Ignored.
It matters or…
It doesn’t.
The objective is to say it,
Think it
In no special order,
Murdering the word
Or helping word to smolder
On a reader’s shoulder.

Poetry is definitely
Back in
Fashion.

Don’t Look Now, But Poetry Is In 11.29.2016
The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Our Times, Our Culture II;
Arlene Corwin

This is one to which there can be no tag.

Do We Own?

Do we own?
Own what?
Parents die;
Friend, enemy;
Ones we have never known
In circumstance we’ll never see
In lands we’ve never been.

What do we own?
Goods heaped up over years,
Stored in a wardrobe or armoire,
Or locker somewhere
Because life has changed-***-rearranged -
Or we’ve lost interest - period.

Do we own?
Appropriated from life’s providence?
For providence means helped/provided for,
Sustained, maintained, endowed, supplied.
It never meant forever.

We alone are what we own.
I too.  And you.
(Though there are some who say we are on loan.
But that’s another story).


Do We Own? 8.10.2017
Nature Of & In Reality;
Arlene Corwin

Do you believe in signs?⏳

Do You Feel Loved?

It may be the essential – feeling loved:
The need that breeds endeavor.
Genes count, nature/nurture too,
Of course they do.  
But you?
How are you shaped on other fronts?
On every inner front that counts?

Upward-striving, brave, risk-taking?
Anti- any thought of faking?
Thin-skinned, concrete or faith based?
Seeing all as interfaced?

There is no shield to life or love,
Each quality a chance, an option;
Course of action,
Possibility if let.

Meeting, greeting all you get,
And every action a solution;
Taking love, rebuff – it all,
Direction never faltering.

In each action there exists
A universe of rules to choose from.
You suffused with
Feelings of
Concern and tenderness and feeling love(d).

Do You Feel Loved?  9.3.2016
I Is Always You Is We;
Arlene Corwin

Ducks Came Onto The Grass Today

It is divine. A day in June,
A paradise.
As here we sit and chat a bit
‘Bout that and this, this and that.

Paper plates of summer food.
Some tête á tête:
The world seems good.
Unparalleled.
Who could want more,
The summer air our succour.

Our new clipped lawn
Down to a our boathouse
Housing table, chair
For guests who come there.
Little rowing boat with motor
All prepared to spawn small trips
For tiny ships
Onto the relatively little waters.

Speaking of our lakefront syrup,
Ducks came up onto the grass.
They hadn’t asked,
They visited, so used to bread
Were they..  Then suddenly,
Five more waded ashore,
Ready for a bready
                           exploration.

Eight pm, sun still high,
Ducks swum away, good TV waiting
Sauntering, we left our haven
For the secondary heaven
Of our home some steps above.
A sort of, kind of
Paradis-ical true love.
What a day!

Ducks Came Onto The Grass Today 6.25.2020 Circling Round Nature II; Circling Round Experience;

This poem is dedicated to Bhaghirath Choudhary, a kind and generous Facebook friend who sends admiring and encouraging notes regarding my poetry.

Each On His Level

They say it all –
Each on his level
To his level.
Coming out each second -
Truths
To ears and eyes
Meant for/attracted to…

Exactly right
For the occasion,
Creatures ready find themselves
There listening, hearing, doing
At their level
Drawn to taste
By not one wasted atom.

Laws in action
Never ceasing,
Always acting,
Causing acting,
Causing end without a single motor.

It on every level
Reaching those who listen out of needs
Wholly intangible.

Prophets must be the most boring
In the world,
Pushing forward,
Never knowing when to stop.

Then, according to the law
We’re prophets all – to someone.

Each On His Level 5.19.2007
Nature of & In Reality; Definitely Didactic; To The Child Mystic;
Arlene Corwin

Each Trick On Mac

I wish I knew each trick on Mac
To send and track;
Each new technique
A winning streak in cyber-speak.

Trying hard to not be piqued
By an ineptitude
That lies within the DNA
(or am I justifying being lazy).
Anyway, I’m way behind in keeping up.
In sending through my things to do,
Like all the books I’ve left to publish,
Then when published, to divulge.  

Indulge me:
Am I doomed to be unknown/ anon
Until the kids of kids of kids have grown?
Was it some centuries before Johan Sebastian Bach prevailed?
What’s-his long-forgotten name unveiled?
Lost for ages Raphael (or some same fellow)…
You know what I mean.
And all because I never worked
To learn this darned Machine!

Each Trick On Mac 6.14.2020 To The Child Mystic II; A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Circling Round Experience; Arlene Nover Corwin

* You’ll never believe it, but this sieve of a brain who tried for hours to recall ‘what’s-his-name’, abandoning it entirely, suddenly came up with, first, “Centuries of Meditations” then minutes later Traherne, then minutes more Thomas.  My God, this has never happened before!  That some figure I’d not referred to, given a thought to or even read since university days, should 65 years later suddenly explode with it.   I’m in shock!  
I have some re-writing to do, for sure.  If not here, elsewhere. But first I ought to do   little reading.

Each Trick On Mac

I wish I knew each trick on Mac
To send and track;
Each new technique
A winning streak in cyber-speak*

Trying hard to not be piqued
By an ineptitude
That lies within the DNA
(or am I justifying being lazy).
Anyway,
I’m way behind in keeping up.
Way behind in sending through
My things to do,
Like all the books I’ve left to publish,
Then when published, to divulge.  

Indulge me:
Am I to be an unknown, known as anon
Until the kids of kids of kids have grown?
Was it centuries before Johan Sebastian Bach prevailed?
What’s-his name the mystic was unveiled?
Lost for ages Raphael (or some old fellow)…
You know what I mean.
And all because I never worked
To learn this darned Machine!

Each Trick On Mac 6.14.2020 A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Circling Round Experience; Arlene Nover Corwin

*(Gimme a break! It’s just a jest.)

Earth Fights Back

Mercury, methane – it’s not retaliation.
Earth neutral, holds not a grudge;
It follows laws, the sludge of ***** oil
And the sea that whitens coral
No revenge just law,
No matter how ****** awful it may seem.
As I react so it reacts,
Our pact with nature and its every star.

Perhaps the verb to fight is faulty.
Not a fight, just a response.
Not a response, just a reply.
Earth answering, perhaps with love
Obeying laws within, above.

I propose a theme in prose, transposing theme
To poem for those
Who also think in meter
Satisfying, clarifying thoughts,
Allowing them to peter out in symmetry,
Some understanding, amity and harmony,
Satisfied if poem when through
Gets through to you,
In which case
Phrase fights back
Has had impact.

Earth Fights Back 1.28.2017
Circling Round Nature II; Our Times Our Culture II;
Arlene Corwin

Eccentricity Isn’t Craziness, It’s Daring

Eccentricity isn ‘t craziness, it’s daring
To the -enth degree:
A caring not what they decree,
Not caring what they think of me.
The unconventional disarming,
Often charming -
What is normal?
Living life like all the rest,
I guess accepting colorlessness.

Planets are eccentric
And the sun’s just doing fine.
It shines on planetary quirks,              
Sustains the quirk so that it works.  
So,
We too can be a sun;
No planet going round,
No moon, but one
Unusual, bright son-of-a gun                            
Who does his ‘thing’ because it is
The only thing that makes things run,
The only thing that makes life fun

The misfit may not be a genius,
May be middling or bizarre.
Having said that, I give honor
To the one who does his thing
Since he sees through
The illusion, the delusion, the chimère .            
Eccentricity Isn’t Craziness…9.3.2015 The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; revised/ 9.30.2018 Arlene Nover Corwin

Ego

I am ego.
You cannot survive without me;
I can help you give, by helping give you
Your identity.
I help you know yourself
So, do not **** me off
But know when I am there
Giving orders
When I ought to be sub-ordinate.
I am ego - not I AM.

Ego 11.12.2020 I Is always You Is We; Arlene Nover Corwin

Good morning!
Love,
Arlene
       Embedded In The Problem


Rooted in the problem sits an answer

Well inserted by the laws of physics:

Every energy, each action, force

Contains an opposite and equal heart.

Not obvious, because of course

You’re coming face to face with one small seam,

Large though it seems,

With un’s that scream their presence:

“We’re Unanswerable, We are Unsolvable!”

Therefore, the answer, at least at the start,

Is to see the problem as a part

Of opportunity.

That would be smart!

Embedded In The Problem 4.22.2018 Circling Round Reality; Definitely Didactic; Arlene Corwin

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

Energy Can Never Be Destroyed

Foremost!  Such a multitude of forms!
Energy can never be destroyed.
It simply, I mean simply
Changes into throngs of power.
Where does fat go when you lose some weight?
First it goes to *** and sweat,    
Some to it to eyes that tear,
For x percent is water.

No energy goes nowhere,
Force never disappearing, but transformed
Moves to another sphere.
  
Existence carries on.

It has, it is a quantity.
Changed in its quality
But not created or destroyed,
Hanging ‘round us near or far.
Perhaps the tummy fat you lost
Has reached a star.
Charming, that!

And so, do things you ought! anNeverBeDestroyed3.302020
Send out the best you have,
Also the worst that’s left
To shift as gift to transformation,
Dissipate and go someplace
To leave what’s left a better you.

Burn up those extra calories,
The energies, which thermal, chemical,
Nuclear, electrical, elastic, plastic,
Even gravitational all have uses:
Uses and abuses (dark and light).

Use the energy of mind.
It is the powered you supreme.
It, the best that you can find to flower will.
Thinking, moving, sitting still,
Use the treasured energy:
Your measure of the whole.
EnergyCanNeverBeDestroyed3.30.2020 Nature Of & In Reality;
Arlene Nover Corwin

Energy The Treasury

If someone asked me what would be
The perfect present
I would answer in a wink, without a think:
Energy!
And probably
Add
Peace inside
So I can ride out tough spots,
Tragic phases when they come,
For come they do as surely as
My name is You.
But this you have to know also:
They go
And something takes their place.

Just the same, old chummy peace
Craves energy to be released.
When Mr E goes into hibernation
Taking toll on all relations,
I retreat, wait and relax,
Force a hope that it comes back,
Charging up my back-tery.
A temple of potential, energy!

I’ve written poetry,
I’ve called for, chronicled,
Describing, naming, yelling, telling for,
It is the germ of wholeness.

Energy The Treasury 7.13.2016
Circling Round Energy;
Arlene Corwin

Sometimes I write a poem and fully satisfied I print it, send it out to Facebook friends and then, a week later catch a glimpse and see weaknesses I'd never have thought of or recognised as being poetic deficiencies.  This being the case, I offer you my just-now revised version of Euphoria.✍️

          Euphoria

Even And All The Time

God is giving out
Evenly and all the time.

Evenly and all the time
Through Law and laws,
A clout, a shout, no hanging about;
Efficient, effective and quick.

A seeming quirk that never quits:
The nature of God,
Nature of God,
An Absolute absolutely.

Even And All The Time 3.18.2017
God Book II;
Arlene Corwin
Continuation…
      For Those Who Can’t Or Won’t

For those who can’t or won’t believe…
Refusal, aptitudinal deficiency;
A lack of interest or an inability
To think it through
And come to That conclusion.
I look up to all,
Roads leading in the end to Rome,
The roaming in us all.

For Those Who Can’t Or Won’t 3.18.2017
God Book II;
Arlene Corwin

I've been away for a few days just thinking.

Every Day’s A Phase

Every day’s a phase – nothing but.
The moon unfazed goes thirty days
With shadowed light a-waxing, -waning,
Straining not, just losing, gaining,
Noticeably self-contained.

You and I, the Gershwins said,
“We sweat and strain, bodies all aching racked with pain”.
C. (that’s me) augments with comments,
“You and I, we wish too much,
Not accepting or in touch
With our restraints;
Not what we are nor what we ain’t.”  

Satisfied is not complaisance.
Compliance, maybe – not complaisance.
Satisfied; acceptance, ease;
Being pleased with whatsoever.
You’re not clever, not the Saviour?
So be it!
You’re not a nitwit for all that.22
You’re not great at what you do?
***** it!  
You are great in ways to praise.
Nothing stays, since everyday’s a phase
And nothing but.

Everyday’s A Phase 11.28.2017 Nature Of & In Reality; Arlene Corwin




;

Everyone Has Faith

Everyone has faith.
The only question is the choice we make.
Everybody worships (kind of)
What we worship is our choice –
From leaning, and from combination
Of that leaning and condition.

Choose, we choose what we were born to choose.
The gene, the fate, position, lot,
Perhaps to win or lose:
Strange as it sounds, our knot.

The crux
Is that life *****
But faith brings trust, conviction,
Optimism, hope and courage -
All positive and negative, yin and yang
As well you know.
For what is not?

Everyone Has Faith 5.14.2017
To The Child Mystic II; The Nature Of & In Reality; Circling Round Reality;
Arlene Corwin

Everyone Is Asking For Money

Everyone Is Asking For Money

Asking For Monies

Everyone Must Do What They Were Born To Do

Everyone must do what they were born to do,
Obeying inner tendencies.
Laws of good and bad in mind,
The chore will always be
To go beneath the impulse
To beyond the false
To true —
Perhaps the new
Inside of you.

The doctor who
Was born to be a farmer,
Who through courses of
Bad choices
Chooses what he does not love
Will always feel dissatisfied
And not know why.

Vocation notwithstanding,
Rules of karma and pure luck,
Without the will to chuck the choice,
The small, small voice that tells you
Who and what you love to do — well, you
Had better listen.
The essential you lies there.

Everyone Must Do What They Were Born To Do 2.25.2021 Revelations Big & Small Arlene Nover Corwin

Everything An Etude

Your cooking, your yoga,
Your diet, your posture:
Everything a try,
Chance to be brave
Chance to be plucky:
Symphony unfinished;
All’s a laboratory.

Everything an opportunity.
An exercise to make you better.
Never best.
There is no best.
So rest in knowing
Everything is etude.

Everything Is Etude 4.11.2017
The Processes; Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Definitely Didactic; Vaguely About Music II;
Arlene 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

Everything Has An End

Light waves and bends.
Comes from the sun, reaches its object.
Lo, it ends.
(its start to other aims the subject for another poem).

You know what I’m talking ‘bout.
A teeny, microscopic lout
Which at the moment rules our days -
It will not always,
But die out.
Once it’s found a final project
To project its deadly darts at.

Where things go
When they appear to disappear
We do not know,
Can only guess and speculate,
A date out of the question.

All we know is all things end:
The bending light, day, night,
Humongous, slight;
Even the alphabet, A to Z,
There still a further mystery
And further question:
Which came first, the egg or chicken,
Cause where, when
Or even why?

The keys lie in philosophy,
Material, its -ality.
And so we end with unclear hope
That we can cope until the finish;
That the crash is but a hyperbolic gnashing
Of the teeth that brandishes its blemished face
And ends.

Everything Has An End 3.16.2020 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Nover Corwin

It's the' little plastic brain' that keeps coming up with endless ideas, inspiring and producing. In fact, it seems to me that it is becoming deeper, more creative and bolder. Everything inspires me!

Everything Inspires
Everything a source;
Every little thing an inspiration.
Got a compliment today.
Mind raced, computer handy -
Boom, I’m here
Scribbling away.
(well typing anyway).
Now I must go away,
The day still light,
To use this body for its sake.
Pushing age, delaying ache
Until my tired hands come back
To what, I do not know -
Not yet.
You bet it will be something.
Everything Inspires 8.15.2020 The Processes: Creative,Thinking, Meditative II; Circling round Everything II; Circling Round Experience; Arlene Nover Corwin

I'm not a nostalgic person. but occasionally I run across an old poem that feels worth putting out there for its universality and perhaps poetic value.  Here is one such:⌚️

Everything (Is) A Point In Space 2020

Everything is a point in space,
Related to a point in space;
Nothing far,
Nothing near,
All things relative to here
Or there or then.
Not just to here or when,
Or yes, how long.

Tonality’s keynote song
Has contrast-worth,
All on earth non-absolute.

Enter point, enter center,
No obstructing intercepter
But a  center and a center of said centers,
(even centers have a center
As a point in space
Un-erased by laws of time).

At the root, I have surmised,
There is no friction and no bias.
Or is it a pious fiction,
Science fiction’s pie-in-sky?

Everything A Point In Space 9.7.2002/ re-composed 4.4.2020
Nature In & Of Reality; To The Child Mystic; Circling Round Science;
Arlene Corwin

Everything Is Autobiography

Everything is autobiography.
And why not?
Ourselves inside
Is all we’ve got:
Ourselves, our lives,
Our unique lot –
Why let it rot?

Everything that heals is good.
Every healing means is food.
The only means that comes for free,
The has universality,
That’s there, for those with eyes, to see,
That’s there on call effortlessly
Is my peculiar history
And your autobiography.

Everything Is Autobiography10.26.1991/may be used in 2016 book)
Nature Of & In Reality; I Is Always You Is We;
Arlene Corwin

Everything Is Autobiography

Everything is autobiography.
And why not?
Ourselves inside
Is all we’ve got:
Ourselves, our lives,
Our unique lot –
Why let it rot?

Everything that heals is good.
Every healing means is food.
The only means that comes for free,
The has universality,
That’s there, for those with eyes, to see,
That’s there on call effortlessly
Is my peculiar history
And your autobiography.

Everything Is Autobiography 10.26.1991/revised 3.8.2020
Nature Of & In, In & Of Reality; I Is Always You Is We;
Arlene Corwin

Everything Is Yin & Yang
(another ode to Facebook)


Another ode in anthem mode:
Each using EffBee for his aim;
A simple sharing of a poem;
A needy soul who aims at fame;
A person specialised in something rare
Who seeks to share his passion for
The oldest car well, everywhere.

The negative and positive;
FB draws the best and worst,
The selfish and the selfless those
Who thirst for what is best
And those who may be *******.
(Just a use, perhaps abuse
Of Poet’s license; please excuse
The rather brutal use of word)
Going on: FB invites a bit of fun;
Emoji’s  icon. Quelle invention!  
Quell design!

As for me and mine,
This facebook is divine.
So I’ll be signing off.
I’ve said enough
Even without one cup coffee.
Signing off with love and warmth.
Signing off.  Goodbye.

Everything Is Yin & Yang 1.24.2021 a Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Some wonderful somebody In Hello (Ella Johnson) described my work as "amazing".  I'm flattered beyond words. Such a powerful compliment makes one hardly feel worth it, BUT, if I it is that, it is because:
     Everything I Think, I Write

Everything I think, I write,
For better or for worse,
And since
I cogitate throughout the days,
The thought-turned-phrase
Converts the days to thought-turned-verse.

For some it’s money that’s thought bound.
For some it’s family circled round
Family, worry, God or Death.
My thing is Truth.

Through diverse channels,
Canals all, the universal stall of measure.
I see all as Truth the Treasure.
I can’t stop.  And who would want to.
Rhythm, melody and phrase
The driving craze in me. Yippee!

Here comes the sister poem called Everything Is Worth A Poem #2,
/ I’ve written one before).

If you’ve a sense of rhythm, rhyme,
Metered time, it’s worth a poem.
It may be so-so at the start,
But blurt it out, impart a theme,
It’s worth a go
To watch the darndest things start flowing.
As they insight into…

Clichés there will have to be.
It’s hard to say new, clear things simply.
Idioms on which you grew, they’re you, real you.
Take Dante. Using the colloquial,
To say the deepest things.  
And pray!  They’ve lasted,
Nay, outlasted…never to decay as past.

You may start a shallow fellow -
Sleepy, hollow.
You have thoughts – just not developed;
Still a pearl inside the scallop;
You use couplets as your form.  Later on they won’t seem normal.
As you broaden, you’ll be lauded
By the gods of verse in Auden heaven.

Though this may turn out to be
A poem six hundred ninety-three,
And oh, so corny
You can see
It is the height of luxury
And makes me rapturously happy.

Everything I Think I Write 6.16.2018 A Sense Of Ridiculous II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin