I Don’t Recognize The Face Anyway #2 version 2008

               I Don’t Recognize The Face Anyway

I can’t keep thinking about

Mushy, aging tushies.

Hormones’ mysteries

Have conquered these ideas,

And tired of mirrors,

Make-up terrorists,

The muscles in the neck

That sink,

And hair fine lines (as well as hair)

Beneath the nose and in the cheek,

I think:

My less than score of friends

Are passive, loving and accept –

And strangers don’t concern me.

Who has time to burn

For vanity, for anyway,

I do not recognize the face

That’s me.

© I Don’t Recognize The Face Anyway 6.18.2008

Arlene Corwin

Circling Round Wrinkles; Circling Round Vanities; Circling Round Nature, Circling Round Woman;

 

 

 

I Don’t Really Like Poetry 2008

          I Don’t Really Like Poetry

I don’t really like poetry.

It’s too demanding,

I’m too shallow.

I don’t hallow poetry –

I only write it.

© I Don’t Really Like Poetry 9.9.2008

The Processes:Creative,Thinking, Meditative;

Arlene Corwin

I Do Not Recognize 2008

         I Do Not Recognize

I do not recognize

The face that passes by

The me-rror.

Find it hard to give it credence,

Credibility.

Incredible!

That me-rror shows

An ever-changing wrinkling skin

Reflecting someone

Else within.

The yogic,

Mystic

Fathers

Must be/are correct,

And I suspect

That I

Am not my body,

And my body

Is not where I’m found – my ground.

I’ll have to grind the mirror’s glass

To powder

So I need no longer pass it ever

And complain.

Arlene Corwin

© I Do Not Recognize 1.30.2008

Birth, Death & In Between; Circling Round Nature;

Circling Round Woman; I is Always You Is We;Circling Round Vanities;

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Can’t Keep Thinking About 2008

            I Can’t Keep thinking About

I can’t keep thinking about

Dropping mushy, aging tushy*

Programmed gravity,

The mystery of hormone

Which has conquered me and won

And, tired of mirrors

Made up terrors,

I’m not looking

At my sulking profile

Ever more.

My score of

Friends will understand

And

Strangers don’t concern me.

Who has time to burn for

Vanities

Like that?

*tushy is the warmly affectionate Yiddish word for ‘bum’’ or ‘bottom’

or ‘rear end\’, none which has the tender expressiveness of ‘tushy’.

©I Can’t Keep Thinking About 5.8.2008

Circling Round Wrinkles; Circling Round Woman; Circling Round Nature;

I Am As Nothing 2008

        I Am As Nothing

I’m old,

But I don’t know it.

Old, and know it.

Youthful names around

I read.

Popping like popcorn in a pan,

I cannot take them in.

Previews,

Reviews

All marketed.

The generation makes its mark.

My spark has:

Gone ambition,

Competition,

Knowing Liliputian-ness

And all it stands for.

Atom in a universe,

Alone in change.

I am as nothing.

© I Am As Nothing 10.28.2008

Circling Round Energy; I Is Always You Is We;

Arlene Corwin

 

He Knew 2008

              He Knew

Of course he knew

He was about to die,

For he was ‘in it’

Every moment,

‘Living in it’ as he died.

Still I seem to be crying

Without willing it.

I want to think

There is no real Death.

For my well-being,

Got to think

It’s just a change of form.

Now that he’s gone,

I need to think

It’s just a change from

Cat to cat.

No thinking makes more sense than that

For my well being.

© He Knew 4.24.2008

Birth, Death & In Between; Cat Book;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

Happy Birthday, Daddy 2008

              Happy Birthday, Daddy

You’re a hundred today

In a realm of some sort,

Far away,

Invisible, for

I can’t make you out, but

Your are there,

Working out things you couldn’t here.

There’s not much I remember

When I think about you as a father.

But I recollect some precious things

That made you daddy.

It’s attachment.

It’s a mystery.

It’s love that has no feelings –

But it’s love.

Daddy without sentiment;

Karmic plan to make me what I am.

The only dad

I’d ever have – or had. I’m glad.

Be happy!

Happy birthday!

 

© Happy Birthday, Daddy 4.15.2008

Birth, Death & In Between; Birthday Book; Love Relationships;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Birthday Anyway 2008

                 Happy Birthday Anyway

Seventy at last!

Was it something you looked forward to?

Modest you.

No parties, presents you insist.

Besides, it’s February cold.

You want to put your date on hold

Till June and summer.

(I have a strong suspicion you don’t care

If, how, what, when or where).

 

We talked about accomplishment.

In fact, we talk about it constantly:

Our verbal key.

All our closest friends want travel,

Theatre, concerts; but we

Talk about accomplishing

Our special thing.

You’re seventy. Your springboards:

Music, technique, singing,

Possibly recording.

Growing through the meditative.

Prayerful, playful you

Is through

With custom for the sake of custom.

You don’t need the confirmation

Others seem to need.

You get it from inside.

And yet you are affirmed.

Everybody loves you.

 

Happy Birthday, anyway.

In spite of your requests.

In spite of all your protests.

Happy Birthday to a party

That will not have any guests.

Happy Birthday for your balance

Both expressed and unexpressed.

 

Happy birthday, anyway.

And Happy all the rests…!

© Happy Birthday, Anyway 1.20.2008

Love Relationships; Special People, Special Occasions; Birthday Book;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

Getting Used To Death 2008

           Getting Used To Death

Long, drawn out or quick and sudden?

Which would I prefer?

Long, drawn out gets friends and family used to it-

The chronic it. Grateful when you’ve gone –

Glad that the suffering is over

(For the other and themselves);

Daily visits, altered schedules,

Shifts from love’s devotedness

To medical frustrations, system weaknesses

That make one mad;

All over with and terminated.

Long gives time for settlement: insurance, testament;

Allows for karmic caring, showing

Love long put to bed.

Long gives sacrifice a shine.

Long is a great revealer. And

The chosen one can choose the kind

Of funeral and casket. And,

(If one has nerve to ask) command

Donation or cremation or the ordinary earth.

A long, drawn out passing-on has hope,

The chance to think forgiveness.

Quick is a shock that numbs.

Quick is another sorrow.

No tomorrow for a chat, that being that,

Things left undone, unsaid –resolved,

Quelled and dispelled ambition.

Quick spurns longtime-suffering,

Morphine dependence, side effects.

Quick has its points to favor it,

Embarrassment and diapered shit

A non-existent shame.

Quick is the name of she or he

Who laughed while waving, crossed a street,

Or said goodnight and never woke;

Whose brain still spoke,

Who had no time to fear.

Which one would I prefer,

(If I could choose at all?)

© Getting Used To Death 1.6.2008

Birth, Death & In Between;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

Gone 2008

                 Gone

It isn’t that I was beautiful,

But youth has beauty

Grounded in the supple;

Muscle tone, proportions

Lip to nose,

Waist/hips,

Shortened, lengthened, thickened –

Gone.

The elasticity, the cheekbone

With its hostile lines

That droop the jaw down

Through the neck.

Not the loss

But changes [to the]

Peers, me, us –

My generation aging,

Dying, disappearing.

Knowledge which, though solace

Craves an answer ring

That hasn’t come.

© Gone 10.23.2008

Birth, Death & In Between; Circling Round Nature; Circling Round Vanities;

Circling Round Woman; Circling Round Wrinkles; I Is Always You Is We; Time;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

 

Previous Older Entries

<span>%d</span> bloggers like this: