Daring 2011

Daring

I have dared

To write the word

God,

Adding

To it

Qualities

That help me soar,

Give succor.

Self-conscious

(Like the use of I

in poetry).

 To risk the silent

Mockery

Of others.

Print useful, good.

From one’s abode where

One can goad, explode or im-,

Assured by those you most regard,

Making choices,

Giving voice from sources

In the psyche,

From the memory:

Like goes to like;

Empirical and tested

I have done it for some years

And haven’t suffered.

Daring 5.28.2011

God Book;

Arlene Corwin

challenging As A Way Of Being 2011

Challenging As a Way of Being

Accepting challenge as a path,

A way of being,

Challenge is a way

Of seeing

What to do and not to do;

What we are and what we’re not;

What to leave inside of us,

And what we ought

To put aside.

Personally,

I don’t like it –

Confrontational, disputative:

A fashion word, a word in fashion,

And I wish

They’d halt its use.

So be it.

Challenge is Obama’s word

And everybody else’s too.

I like Obama – not the herd.

As stimulant to intellect

It is

Okay. I guess.

And so, although

It has no ring,

Accepting challenge as a path,

An invitation, way of being,

I can write this poem.

Challenging As A Way Of Being 5.29.2011

Defiant Doggerel; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;

Arlene Corwin

Looking At My Right Arm 2011

Looking At My Right Arm

 

Night after night, book in hand,

I see the arm,

And I’m

Astonished and perplexed.

I cannot climb inside

The aging mind of my right arm

To find out what it’s thinking

When a wrinkling

(That did not exist the night before)

Arrests the eye.

Or am I

self-deceptive,

Non-attentive?

Muscle doesn’t waste away

Over a night.

Something’s withering,

(Lovely sound – alarming word)

Shriveling and wasting.

I remember being young,

Those crepey ladies…“how repulsive”

On my brain-tongue.

Never

in my wildest dreams… yet

Here in bed examining,

Accepting, yes, consenting!

It is me!

I like the self I am and I agree

To what I see.

 

Looking At My Right Arm 5.18.2011

Pure Nakedness; Circling Round Wrinkles;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

On The Blink 2011

On The Blink Again

Modern,

Fallen,

Hooked up to and on

The Internet, its modem.

Choices digging voices from

The netherworld, the heavenly –

You know not where –

(You did not even know were there).

Speed, thesaurus, font and format;

Easy outlet to a planet.

When it’s on the blink

In one or other ways – I’m sunk (or sink – if you like rhyme).

On The Blink Again 5.22.2011

Circling Round Computers;

Arlene Corwin

One Of Those Questions That Sometimes Hits Me 2011

One Of Those Questions That Sometimes Hits Me

I was sitting in the sun

Having lunch,

When I wondered,

“Does God have a temperature?”

Egyptians loved this micro-mode

Of God of god: (or god of God)

It warmed, it nourished;

Sometimes hidden,

Bidden,

Prayed to…

You know – God in miniature.

So I wondered as I lunched,

As the sun

Went in and out the clouds,

Does God have a temperature?

I can picture energy –

A blend of particle and wave.

I can picture qualities –

Peace, power, knowledge, bliss and love.

But hot or cold,

I can’t get hold

of that

Thing in an Absolute.

So, dear reader,

If just one of you has had that vision,

Revelation, self-delusion,

Tell me.  I don’t care.

I am divinely curious

As to Its Highness Absoluteness

And Its ungendered  temperature.

One Of Those Questions That Sometimes Hits Me 5.19.2011

God Book; A Sense Of The Ridiculous;

Arlene Corwin

Body Of Work 2011

Body Of Work

It’s that:

Not

One or two or twenty-two,

But quantity accrued –

The more the merrier:

A lot.

Carrying the burden of the gift;

Breathing in the suddenness;

Thinking, contemplating, scribbling, sketching,

Simplifying, adding to;

Finalizing through refining.

Ever open-ended.

That’s what counts.

Body Of Work 5.12.2011

The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II

Arlene Corwin

Catnap Time 2011

Catnap Time

Cup of coffee. Mind alert.

Have turt-

                                    le doved

My way through lunch

With Kent. And now,

An hour later

In a chair, I bow

To catnap time.

(In fact, the cat is napping

Atop Birdie’s cage*;

Incomprehensible, this marriage).

Outside, there is a bit of thunder,

Bit of rain,

A bit of covering up of sun.

Inside again,

Kent snoring on the sofa

(a bit –  just like the distant thunder).

Windless, soundless

In and out the house,

Except for gentle scratchings

From this penciled place

On piece of paper,

Plus a tone inside my ear.

Post pause:

Sun’s shed its dark disguise,

Cat, bird and flies

Return

To life outside and in.

*Birdie is our Australian parakeet elegans .

Cat Nap Time 5.11.2011

Coffee Book; Cat Book;

Arlene Corwin

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