Arlene Corwin Poetry

This is a sample from my new book A Sense Of The Ridiculous (XLibris)

Walls we can split at a stroke.

We don’t. I don’t. You don’t.

Walls of attitudes and limitations

We go round inside their frame,

Using up a precious time.

All at once we say it isn’t fun this way –

In fact, it’s downright suffering.

“So, to hell with what I lost,

My ignorance, the mangled cost;

My big mistakes and jangled sleep,

Nights counting sheep;”

The replicas of outlived choices.

There’s big N Now, – memories and voices

From a new Now-know,

While past is working out and through,

Loss is just a thing to learn by,

Not to cry

For, everything acquired/lost

Is tossed into the pot of change.

Gone is gone

And holding on to “gone”s inane.

To not reflect on what we gain

Is to reject the medicine.

The Mental Institution Of The Mind 11.21.2002 (revised 6.27.2015)

A Sense Of The Ridiculous; Nature Of & In Reality; Definitely Didactic;

Arlene Corwin