Somewhat Aphasic 2010

      Somewhat Aphasic

Somewhat aphasic,

Not a speaker,

I can write instead,

And do

Because I’m slow

And need the time.

Do I dare an interview?

TV program literary,

Authors answering so cleverly?

I, sent back to, running to

The paper, my

imaginary reader

In my in my mind my sites,

To play with word, idea rhythm,

Played out

                               one against the other.

© Somewhat Aphasic 10.23.2010  The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;   Arlene Corwin

Sad Hours Walking Along Pitkin Avenue 2010

              Sad Hours Walking Along Pitkin Avenue

Who knew that Pitkin was a hawker?

Remembering sad hours walking,

Smelling, looking:

Window-shopping nylon gowns;

Nylon gauzy, vivid;

(World War Two’s post world war news –

(who’d would wear a nylon now?)

Sometimes having money for

Knishes on the corner;

Smell of kasha and potato;

Loew’s Pitkin – movie’s glamour

Brother, three –

His premier movie – Toto, Dorothy;

Hysterics when the witch flew by

He/I evicted, he still crying.

The Hebrew Educational Society, – H.E.S. –

(Was it on Hopkinson?) where Jewish children

Studied music – free. That’s me.

The long walk there and back to 1650

Sterling Place, my telephone number 31313,

Kids envied me.. Who had a number like that?

Pitkin Avenue where I fled

When mom and I had argued;

With emptiness unsatisfied and unidentified,

Yearning for some side

Of life I’d not a clue existed.

Here’s a sad one:

Birthday present for my daddy;

In a shop on Pitkin where I’d laid

A child’s wallet on the counter.

Some nice lady at my side

Disappeared, the wallet gone.

How I cried that whole way home. One

Of life’s wounds not healed. Real grief.

Poem for Pitkin Avenue,

The chums one knew,

And candy stores,

Girls and boys,

Even men, who smoked and joked there,

Some to never move from there.

Sweden:

Year two thousand ten,

Six decades later.

Who knew then?

© Sad Hours Walking along Pitkin Avenue 10.16.2010  Pure Nakedness;   Arlene Corwin

Notes from the Overground: Thoughts On Touring 2010

           Notes from the Overground: Thoughts On Touring

Book, cd, performance, what!

I do not want to tour.

An effort that I could, if forced

But see through the illusions:

All-inclusive energies –

Pushing, meeting, signing,

Introducing, marketing;

Hidden bragging

Sell and spread.

Every night a hotel bed.

That!

Everybody’s doing it.

Television’s full of it:

Reputation in a wink –

They think.

There is no quick.

Success invalid,

Success a pallid despot

With a jealous eye

Towards quick eternity:

We want to be remembered.

It’s genetic – since the days we were Neanderthals

(DNA 3-4%)

Confirmation from the grip, grope, group

That grabs you by the gargling throat.

It’s poetry

That’s fun.

©Notes From the Overground10.18.2010 The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Our Times, Our Culture; Vaguely About Music;  Arlene Corwin

 

Connecting 2010

Connecting

I make the connection – 

Then I write.

You do it again!

I think some thoughts,

A kind of sending;

People call,

Form,

A poem;

Artistry, inventiveness,

Day enhanced.

Questions answered.

Who could ask for more-m?

(I liked the rhyme).

© Connecting 9.13.2010 A Sense of the Ridiculous; Circling Round Energy; God Book; The Processes:Creative,Thinking, Meditative II   Arlene Corwin

 

 

Notes from the Overground: Thoughts On Touring 2010

               Notes from the Overground: Thoughts On Touring

Book, cd, performance, what!

I do not want to tour.

An effort that I could if forced,

But see through the illusions,

Effort great – to push and market,

Sign and meet;

Sell and spread:

Hotel bed.

What’s it mean?

Everybody’s doing it.

Television’s full of it:

Fame’s fortune in a wink –

They think.

There is no quickly.

It’s not valid?

This success a pallid despot

With a jealous eye

Towards quick eternity:

We want to be remembered.

It’s genetic – since the days we were

Neanderthals. (We’ve got their DNA)

Maybe it’s confirmation

From the grip, grope, group

That grabs you by the gargling throat.

It’s poetry

That’s fun.

©Notes From the Overground10.18.2010  The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;  Arlene Corwin

 

There Must Be A Law 2010

               There Must Be A Law

There must be a physics:

Some laws that can measure, predict

In some science of matter and motion

Love that’s in all.

Expected, predictable;

Possibly ground within ground –

The safety net – capital T.

Exploring, explaining

The chains within start and end,

Inclusive of start and end,

Well before end and start.

We who see little,

Who know love as sentiment –

Ought to see, feel and recognize opposites

Manifest – peace versus war – is it

Feasible? Can we? Those knacks

To awaken and break into cardiac’s

Innermost knowledge

For dumdums like us

Who never learned science

of feeling and thought:

To feel the feeling, to think through the thought,

No matter what –

There must exist principles.

Several?

One?

To master:

Repulsion, attraction;

Exclusion, inclusion;

Contraction, expansion;

Attachment, detachment;

Seeing the general in the particular –

All of the opposites making no difference.

Seeing them all,

Directed by, ending in

Love of them all.

Seeing all incidents

As love’s coincidence,

Circumstance, building ups,

Breaking downs

And building up again

Unending.

Love

As the law.

© There Must Be A Law 10.14.2010 Definitely Didactic; Nature Of & In Reality; Arlene Corwin

 

 

Sad Hours Walking Along Pitkin Avenue 2010

                 Sad Hours Walking Along Pitkin Avenue

Who knew that Pitkin was a hawker?

Remembering sad hours walking,

Smelling, looking:

Window-shopping nylon gowns;

Nylon gauzy, vivid;

(World War Two’s post world war news –

(who’d would wear a nylon now?)

Sometimes having money for

Knishes on the corner;

Smell of kasha and potato;

Loew’s Pitkin – movie’s glamour

Brother, three –

His premier movie – Toto, Dorothy;

Hysterics when the witch flew by

He/I evicted, he still crying.

The Hebrew Educational Society, – H.E.S. –

(Was it on Hopkinson?) where Jewish children

Studied music – free. That’s me.

The long walk there and back to 1650

Sterling Place, my telephone number 31313,

Kids envied me.. Who had a number like that?

Pitkin Avenue where I fled

When mom and I had argued;

With emptiness unsatisfied and unidentified,

Yearning for some side

Of life I’d not a clue existed.

Here’s a sad one:

Birthday present for my daddy;

In a shop on Pitkin where I’d laid

A child’s wallet on the counter.

Some nice lady at my side

Disappeared, the wallet gone.

How I cried that whole way home. One

Of life’s wounds not healed. Real grief.

Poem for Pitkin Avenue,

The chums one knew,

And candy stores,

Girls and boys,

Even men, who smoked and joked there,

Some to never move from there.

Sweden:

Year two thousand ten,

Six decades later.

Who knew then?

© Sad Hours Walking along Pitkin Avenue 10.16.2010  Pure Nakedness;   Arlene Corwin

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