You are the sun in the solar system,
Somehow pulling everyone into your orbit.
Even passer by asteroids like myself
Get captured and entranced
By the gravitas of your enigma.
Forever stuck in the same trajectory,
Always circling back to you.
How do you do it?

Throughout time
The game of cat and mouse
More so
Hunter and prey

Your words and actions fly like bullets
Loud and clear
or a mere whisper before the pain
I've had enough

Baring teeth and claws
I turn and gaze back
This act of endless circling isn't for you
It's for me; giving you time to change

I've broken the circle
I've turned my back
Redemption
For myself

I don't care if you try anymore
I will redeem myself
So I can look ahead and live
Knowing that I won
Now I've made you cry and crumble
I've beat you at your own game

It's been so long
I can't shed a tear for you
They were all for me
As I watched myself break and fade
Not much longer now

I'm getting a taste of redemption

Playing piano, it's like I have a treasure chest,
each time I hit a note it resonates
like unto a sparkling jewel in glittering crest.
If I had a song I could write that could
reveal and unravel, your true feelings expressed,
I would play it for you in these endless depths.
Surrounded by fear, loss and by worry,
You've left me in the endless circling spin,
I'm floating in an empty abyss, no hurry.
But one day when you find me in the dark,
hopefully there is enough light from a fading
chord that will grant you one last spark.

The glistening notes continue to play out forever in
the glittering starlit skies, accompanied by natural
hues, white gold moon, eyes, and darkness in disguise.

A Day Of Thinking or
This Is The Way My Brain May Work On Any Given Day

           Breakfast In Bed
No one in this world
Makes thinner toast,
Better toast, winner toast.
You do not boast.
How have you learned to slice
This near-transparent, indisputably crunchy piece of bliss!
What skill!  And modest too!
No one can make such toast as you.

                Going In To Thank
Going into different segments of the brain
I thank for life in any of the synapses.
Is there a gratitude partition
Or a separate, section - special one?
An all-inclusive?
I don’t always feel it – just today.
It probably will go away.
I hope it leaves a record.

          Late Afternoon
Deep, deep inside
I’m feeling tired of society.
It’s like, what I imagine to be
What they call depression.
It’s connected to reality; civilization.
There’s the problem -
It’s not me, it’s them!
I ought to put away the TV (I’ve no phone)
Things electronic, dailies, monthlies,
All things histrionic;
The destructive, scandalous and shocking;
All things not-to-be: illusory.
Noel Coward wrote “World Weary” –
A light, song for something serious.
Perhaps that’s it!
There still exist fall hues phantasmagorical:
Food tastes, sweet music, friends amusing, loyal,
Beauty, animals…and still I feel
Despite the goodness,
Deep, deep sadness at the mess.

A Day Of Thinking 10.28.2016
Circling Round Reality;
Arlene Corwin

It's been a while,
A good while,
But it's back.
There's nothing I can do
I'm helpless in thinking about you

This town is crumbling.
With dust turning into ashes.
A judgmental life built
to the apparent lackluster rhyme.

Trembling lips, forced proximity.
Eyes on fire, the vile toxicity.

Trouble.
A simple motto to live by...
Mockery of shared stupidity.
Continually circling
to the timeless tune
of a love struck fool.

A fool, within the rubble.
A fool of love, scavenging for a heart.
A love-sick-fool, standing with empty arms.

Love, it can't be held together with gum found on the bottom of a shoe.
Nor can it survive with lies told by you.