She’s not a girl you’d pass by on the street
and spare a second fleeting thought,
Nor living within the glossy magazines you read
whose looks you’ve always greatly sought,
She’s a string in a resounding symphony
a note lost in sweet sound of melody
She’s a dab of paint on the canvas
but she doesn’t apologise—she forms the picture,
She’s a tiny flower plucked from the earth
       but she blooms for all she’s worth.

No One Person

No one dancer moves like another,
No one singer like another –
So unique are we.
Movement, voice, technique and timbre
All unique and at their best lyric
(pronounced lyreek).
How I adore
To see the store
Of talent and capacity,
Technique and flair,
Dexterity and artistry
In all from dress designer
To the finer forms from
Sculptor, painter,
To the lesser forms – whatever
They may have as name,
The  nomenclature all the same to me.
Movement, sound,
The world goes round
In every creature’s singularity.
That’s all.  Take care.

No One Person 5.20.2017
The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Nature Of & In Reality;
Arlene Corwin

None is unique like you are
A woman is open and secret
It makes a woman forever!

Some girls know all of each others poetry off by heart.
They find assonance in their laughter.
Their linked hands echo in sybilance.
I sometimes sing as if I am one of them
but what if I can't hum on key?
What if my elegies are the ones nobody reads?
Words, words, words. They rush over me and out of me
to a dead audience.
There is no innocent brush of fingers
or sweet laughter, only the perverse desire
to write something more than myself
and wait for an empty orchestra of applause to greet me.
Perhaps if I write as I am
then I will become who I am not.
Perhaps I will become one of the poets,
harmonising in time with the rest of you.

We proud few on the fringes of mankind,
Who see the world as others imagine,
Those who choose to leave stale safety behind,
To pursue life with reckless abandon,
Warriors who fight their inner demons,
Scholars who dive headfirst in the unknown,
Ones who see beauty within all seasons,
Who seek to travel where the winds have blown,
The weirdos who defy society,
The oddities who change all perspectives,
Ones who wage battle against anxiety,
And choose to follow their own directives,
We noble outcasts who bring about change,
The world keeps spinning because of the strange.

Alien to the things I see,
I have no intention to glance,
Through their lenses,
Alternative perceptions cannot clout
What I wish to seek.

One more sunset;
what does it matter?
There n' gone,
unborn reborn.
Over and over.
Without a lick of sense,
or the luck of a four leaf clover.

you are a diamond unique  and rare
your beauty is  beyond compare
but you are unaware
so let me declare
your beauty is like no other
you will never find another
let no one tell you otherwise
so take off your disguise