"ncis" poems
You were the Barbie jeep engineer.
You were the 5-card pinochle player.
You were the gripe to do the dishes.
You were the patient mall bench sitter.
You were Elvis Presley records and
paper backed crime novels.
You were my new antivirus software.
You were the chatter in the middle of an
NCIS episode.
You were the "It's okay, sweetie" on the
other end of the phone.
You were the voice of every bathtime storybook.
You were the baking soda on my first wasp sting.
You were the green Ford Escort parked
outside my middle school every afternoon.
You were the loudest clap at my graduation.
You were the sticky caramel corn crumbs in the
living room that held the place together.
You were the laughter
You were the toolkit when my pictures hung crooked.
You were the cornerback baker, the pecan pie maker,
dance recital seat saver and the road trip driver.
You were the puppy-dog pill-giver and the
broken heart mender.
You were the church goer and the goodness seeker.
You were the black-haired teaser and the
very best secret keeper.
You were a prideful wig wearer and
wheelchair rider.
You were a cancer fighter.
You were my first call.
You still are.
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 4:43 PM UTC
Qualified Abstinence
I’ve decided - though not wholly -
As of morning’s bath - to put on hold
The daily custom, habit’s viewing -
NCIS, Dr Phil - suspecting as I do
That they are doing me some harm
Engaging, charming
as they are.
Mind as thought and mind as stomach,
Turn to worry, churn with fear
As states of things in world and home,
Play out the clearer,
Signs maturing in their chaos,
Ever growing, ever baiting;
Making brilliant, analytical dear Phil
Ever more mouth-watering.
Well-loved NCIS plays its part,
Portraying nations torn apart
With ever cleverer technologies
And cleverer–type baddies
Getting ‘theirs’ from even smarter good guys.
If then, strong enough to not back off,
The morning TV staying off,
Then maybe, only maybe
This old belly
Can restore its tranquil peristalsis,
Family squabbles turning babble to a kiss.
Phil, dear Phil, continue to be wise and kind!
NCIS’ cast: brave, cuddly and seasoned -
Flag unfurled, continue to engage yourselves
In world salvation!
Stationing my thoughts in action,
I must leave you both
To carry myself into truth
As cellular Arlene conceives, perceives,
Inherently achieves it.
(If, of course, l don’t fall back into the -
(crude, ill-mannered rude word) shit!
Qualified Abstinence 7.20.2014
Pure Nakedness; Our Times, Our Culture II;
Arlene Corwin
arlene corwin poetry.com
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 2:29 PM UTC
Watchin NCIS while eating fishticks, I decided to check my skype with just two clicks. Upon entering the domain, I found myself in a talk of pain. First of poisoned pizza, and knifes, and even earlier the fantasy wife's. Not too soon I learn to ignore the vid, rick and morty, I soon realized it was 10 40,
The meme world ruled by the fabulous, King Ash, was honestly made of a **** ton of trash.
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 11:48 PM UTC
new experiences fade the old
no matter how vital the old might be
we don't get a choice
we just do new things and **** there it goes
parts of you fall away bit by bit
i try to remember the whole but am faced only with the half
the left hand falls, the right shoulder
the memory of yelling at me upstairs when i was younger
of picking me up from cross country practice
replaced by a hospital bed and series of tubes
54 is far too young and it wasn't even one
of the plethora of plagues you endured
it was a curveball from the east wedging into the brain
forming a puddle of bacteria and eating away slowly
who'd have thought your heart would stay intact
or your liver or your lungs yet something unforeseen
soon the memories will fade yet more
replaced by a skeleton wearing a pitt hat
with a full glass of pepsi tugging downward at the bones
watching ncis, talking about fixing the porsche
the jaw bones rattling, fading away again
faced with the half and the prospect of the none
ashes three parts body, two parts pepsi, one part ink
and that part housing the memories shrinking against my will
Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 3:18 AM UTC
If only my main Heart desires, became reality.
If only Christ would use me to save lives too.
If only I was an NCIS agent being use to help others.
This is my heart desire, to be use to help save lives.
For people lives are far more important then things.
For people do matter to God and to me as well.
For what good is life, unless it is a doorway leading others to Christ.
For only he can give to us true life in him alone.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 4:40 AM UTC
All of the little things I can fall in love with
We just didn't spend enough time in jeans and flannels
She had no idea what she was doing and she wasn't fooling anyone
She wasn't even trying
"This looks good," she said, halfway up the hiking trail
She laid her flannel out over a grassy clearing and promptly fell asleep
And he fell exactly where he stood
One drop of blood was exactly enough to relieve his soul from its duty of living
He was exactly at his breaking point and they knew it behind the trigger
Pointing exactly at the palm of his left hand
********** and surrender piggybacked off of each other
If she was the sun, then I was definitely getting my dose of vitamin D
(And a halfway decent tan for once)
Her hair looked like a Pantene commercial and her teeth seemed to be painted white
When I was a child, I thought that flowers died in the winter because they couldn't get water from the frozen earth
I must have ripped up half my mother's garden on the first cool day
I brought them inside, and drowned them in buckets of warm water
23 years later, my mother hasn't stopped laughing
School was out for the week, but I imagined that most of the kids from her class wouldn't go back at all
She asked for help, but we couldn't save her from nightmares or flashbacks
Couldn't even hold her hand through every single one
So her parents and her teachers are in therapy being told it wasn't there faults
But I know it wasn't mine
We made dinner on the stove from a box
She was laughing the whole time-
I told her to wait and watch the pasta while I stepped out for a minute
I set up candles in the living room in front of the TV
We sat on the floor in front of the couch, watching NCIS with candles and cheap ready meals
"This never has to end," I told her
We don't have to have to leave this bedroom
Her Christmas lights reflected off the whites of her eyes as she showed me point ballet in her pajamas
I was not a very effective partner, but this is what she was built for
And I was built to love her, one scene at a time,
One LED bulb
One shaky lift
I spun her like a little girl instead of a dancer
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 7:49 PM UTC
When I was 16 I ran from more monsters than I ever did when I was young. Well..younger. At 16 years old I was still a child.
At 8 years old I loved ghost stories. Mysteries. Scooby doo, goosebumps. I was sure I was going to be a forensic scientist just like I saw on CSI.
At 16 I was taught to see shadows on the faces of strangers. Danger flickered behind the eyes of the people I knew I could trust. That I knew I should trust.
Staying in bed never helped, but some days it was all I could do. Nightmares entered every hour of my restless sleep. No episode of NCIS could stir up as much fear as a face I've tried to forget.
At 20 years old I'm still afraid. Silently and with a smile. A similar face or frame reminds me of the blur of memories that took a brave little girl and forced her to be a terrified woman.
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 10:57 PM UTC