Daring 2011


I have dared

To write the word



To it


That help me soar,

Give succor.


(Like the use of I

in poetry).

 To risk the silent


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.


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



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.


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



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,


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:


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


To life outside and in.

*Birdie is our Australian parakeet elegans .

Cat Nap Time 5.11.2011

Coffee Book; Cat Book;

Arlene Corwin

Married Couple 2011

Married Couple

Big house.

Great parties.

But in real life,

When he approaches

She backs off,

Back down…away.

Is he too amorous,

She cold?

Is it a simple chemistry

That doesn’t hold?

Great cook, great boss, great energy

And yet

The secret

Behind union

Eludes both of them,

And those who watch.

Married Couple 5.11.2011

Love Relationships; Small Stories;

Arlene Corwin

Writing A Poem About Sex 2011

Writing A Poem About Sex

No paper around,

But round and empty spool at hand

(a cardboard spool for paper towels)

A ballpoint pen to fool around with – and with sudden

Thought, I reach the ballpoint at my right

And write a poem called Sunday Sex

With words like tantra, screw, and Kama sutra;

Supple, glad:  A poem is made!

But where to place it in my files:

Eros?  Nature? The Creative?

Love? Perhaps.

Computers, baths or vanities,

Absolutely not!

This Sunday sex, exquisite sex,

Pre-requisite to breakfast

Has to have the perfect placements;

One or many, it will stick out

In more books than you

Can shake a stick at.

Tantric dancing slow and quick,

Mixing techniques, loving tricks.

Brighter wick cannot be found

To pick one up a-Sunday.

Writing A Poem About Sex 5.8.2011

Circling Round Eros; A Sense Of The Ridiculous; Love Relationships;

Arlene Corwin

Sunday Sex 2011

Sunday Sex

Sunday sex;

Loving screw;

Sunday Kama sutra

And I’m glad that I’m in shape,

Leg thrown up upon a wall.

Tantric, supple,

Working towards a goal.

A goal?

Perhaps.  Who knows?

It happens when it happens;

And this Sunday

Radio in background

We are happy.

Sunday Sex 5.8.2011

Circling Round Eros; A Sense of The Ridiculous;

Arlene Corwin

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