Convincing Myself 6.10.2014

Convincing Myself


Trying to regain the innocence,

Tired of peer caused fears,

The jargonized ideas.

I want to be

A limited, courageous me

Dependent only on the muse;

Reviews, the news

The chasing, bruising crews a gnat.

I’ve got the right to pick and choose*.

Oh God, did I say that?

Okay, I can’t escape the past,

The couplet form, the easy rhyme,

The melody in four/four time,

The simple cadence, key of C;

Ham and eggs or corned beef hash,

If standing on my legs or feet

Means using just the simplest beat,

Not taking jobs just for the cash,

Splashing song/poems cross- the-sky,

Not letting a timidity

Dispose and keep me un-exposed,

But, like my niece of three

Who shouts her piece,

Stands back and waits for the applause –

No wisdom’s it, just giggly grit

Which doesn’t pause, self- criticize

But gives the world the critic’s role:

A singing artless, baby troll.

No sweat, no threat, no frets. Not yet.

Trying to regain the youth

That had no pre-concepted truth,

My mind’s eye sees a rainbow sky;

The swing, the arch,

Colors constant – climbing, sliding,

At each end a cache of gold.

All that me, when young, when old:

Soul pastel;

In between the stages all:

Rise, peak, fall primordial.

What’s there to be convinced of?


Convincing Myself 4.30.1997/revised 6.10.2014

I Is Always You Is We; Vaguely About Music II; the Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;

Arlene Corwin


*unconsciously borrowed from Harold Arlen’s & Ted Koehler’s

“I’ve Got A Right To Sing The Blues”






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