What Is There To Celebrate?

Woke up this morning with this in my head.  Couldn’t end the year otherwise.

A thirty-first – December morn –

A last day December borne.

We should be dampened,

Unceasing happenings:

A planet shrinking, its news expanding;

Terrifying, shaming.


On this day folk play,

Light fireworks, eat heartily, get tipsy – pray.

With floods, tornadoes, wanderings unsolicited.

If one’s not deaf, dumb, blind one knows.

My very own food table

Weighed down to collapse;

Schnaps glasses ready at the go,

We’ll yell hooray at midnight,

Hug and kiss,

Cheer and dance,

Dressed in our best.

[I’m] just a bit embarrassed, yet

One must find something small thing to celebrate.

I have it! But it’s hard!

Work on the shitty sides of self.

Water daily flowers of you gifts.

Perhaps one can lift a marred

Two thousand sixteen.


What Is There To Celebrate 12.31.2015

Our Times, Our Culture II;

Arlene Corwin

Boy On TheBeach (Aylan Kurdi)

Boy On The Beach


Boy on the beach

Out of reach

Of hands,

Of consciousness.

Soft, bendy

Little babe of skin and bone

Borne by a shaken sentry

Used to death.*


Boy On The Beach 9.5.2015

Our Times, Our Culture II; War Book II;

Arlene Corwin

*Sep 2, 2015 – An image of a drowned toddler lying alone on a Turkish beach has brought new focus to Europe’s refugee crisis.

Sep 2, 2015 – A Turkish police officer carries a young drowned boy … Turkish media identified the boy as threeyearold Aylan Kurdi and reported that his  …

Sep 3, 2015 – Aylan Kurdi, the threeyear old boy pictured lifeless on a Turkish beach, was … Press is reporting two boats capsized and 12 people drowned.

And so on.







I’ll Send You The Menu or, I LIke To Rhyme

I’ll Send You The Menu Or, I Like To Rhyme


I like to rhyme.

I do it all the time.

I hear it in each idiom,

Each group of words,

Expression, phrase –

No matter what one says,

It could be innocent or dirty; –

Curd or bird or slurred or turd,

Deep or shallow, nothing’s hallowed.

I’m in it

Every minute.

Oh, yes and oh no!

I’m corny,

Even when I’m horny –

Whoops! I’m so embarrassed,

Drooping, I mean dropping my defenses,

Being scooped up by

The risqué,…

I wonder what Sig Freud would say.

So if I may, I’ll say goodbye

Before I really

Make a donkey

Out of me,


And I.


I’ll Send You The Menu 12.25.2015

A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Defiant Doggerel; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative;

Arlene Corwin


Goodness, God Happy Holidays, everyone!


Goodness, God,

I don’t know what to do with life, in life.

Each day a question mark.

Even if I had no spark

Of something they call faith,

I would be forced to go to something

In my brain to lean on/ towards/ against;

That all-inclusive hug some label humbug.


I don’t see how others –

You know who (all of you)


I, who feel a dope,

Twerp, dork,

In short, inadequate,


Carry on,


My primal


I sit here on a toadstool –


A molecule of wisdom in my noodle,

Sounding off.

Through awful incongruities

One offshoot offers up itself to you

More often than all others:

Offerer (that’s me)

To offeree.


Goodness, God 12.11.2015

God Book II; A Sense Of The Ridiculous II;

Arlene Corwin





Caffeine Magic

One day I’ll send all my coffee poems to the coffee companies.  I’m probably their best advocate.  My Coffee Book #1 is already out.  This belongs to Coffee Book #2!

Caffeine Magic


Real writers write

Once they’re had their coffee –


On a tray

In bed before they start the day.




On his deathbed


Asked for LSD.

On mine

I’ll ask for



Caffeine Magic 12.17.2015

Coffee Book II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;

Arlene Corwin



Whole-Body Sex


Where least important is the penis and its mate,

Where body-whole squirms,

Both affirming and confirming love,

The stem of love,

The germ of love in every cell,

The spring from which an all-love flows

Feels very, very well



Not form-physique,

Not parts –

(They’re only parts)

But soul/mind/hearts

Defining something deeper,

Terminating in, perhaps



Whole Body Sex 11.23.2013/revised 12.16.2015

Circling Round Eros II; Love Relationships II;

Arlene Corwin




The Noble Prize

The Noble Prize, yes, Noble

This has been Nobel Prize week in Sweden.  I don’t know what to compare it to.  As big as Christmas, Thanksgiving, the Fourth of July…The entire week is taken up on radio and television with Nobel.  One learns about and from the prize winners inside and out.  They’re interviewed constantly.  They have a wonderful television seminar where they’re asked everything and  give their points of view about everything.  These are ordinary, yet great, great men.   Men with matchless focus, peerless perseverance.  Stick-to-it-ness that out does stick-to-it-ness.  30 years, 40 years  they wait – and work.  Bless them.

In December 2001 I wrote the following:

  The Noble Prize

Somewhere exists a noble prize –

An all-eternal prize:

A special type

Without the hype,

Where thought and motive –

Tripped from mind to fingertip,

From pencil scratch and paperclip,

Bind up the un-read whole.

A noble prize

For those who never published.

Those open-pipe, sagacious fools

Who, being tools,

Kept at one thing

By rolling out the scroll

To lengths

Immeasurably long;

Withdrawing ego-hand control,

And finding substance in a song

That never reached a critic’s blows,

But sensing something there that knows

Endeavor’s beauty

And rewards it.

The Noble Prize 12 10.2001

In 2015 I tinkered it to this:

             The Noble Prize #2

Somewhere exists a noble prize.

An all-eternal, special type

Without the hype,

Where thought and motive tripped

From mind and fingertip,

To pencil scratch and paperclip,

Bind the un-read whole.

A noble prize

For those

Who, never published,

Open-piped, sagacious fools

Becoming tools, keep at one thing

By rolling out a scroll

To lengths immeasurably long,

Withdrawing ego-hand control,

Find substance in a song

That never reach a critic’s blows, (or nose or rose)

But sensing something there that knows

The beauty of endeavor

Reimbursing time.

The Noble Prize 12 10.2001/revised 10.12.2015

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

Arlene Corwin

Dear God: At Letter & A Statement

Source: Dear God: At Letter & A Statement

Dear God: At Letter & A Statement

Dear God: A Letter & A Statement


My dear, my real,

Let’s make a deal through breath or mind

Or two sharp eyes;

Through focusing on what’s at hand,

Or reasoning and analyzing,

Letting revelations stand,

Not hanging on:

One can get so gosh darn fixated.


I’m advised by wiser folk to not take notes

But trust in synapses,

Whose thrust stands for the aspects

Of the universe’s map.


My latest vision, guide and template,

Is neutrino, as is sun;

Countless, endless miles from one,

Passing rays through galaxies,

Powers of which we’ve not an inkling,

Clinging to a nothing, influencing armies,

Countries, species, certainties;

Yes, powers that we take for granted:



Dear God: A Letter & A Statement 12.7.2015

God Book II; To The Child Mystic II;

Arlene Corwin





I Don’t Think I Want Fame

I Don’t Think I Want Fame


I don’t think I want fame;

It takes so damned much time.

I glance at Instagram.

It’s so demanding, damned demanding,


If it doesn’t come to me

Completely freely,

Then I’ll offer up pursuit. It doesn’t

Suit my person;

Talents, aptitudes – not one.


Photos those –

Keeping up and putting on

Day after day each movement’s fuss –


What’s vanity but narcissism!


Infantile tourism

Of the global kind.

Left behind a schism

Between means and end.


Transient, short-lived, fame’s a trend:

Here today and gone the way it came.


Synonyms you ought to to learn:

Fleeting, fading, fugitive;

Momentary, temporary:

Life that has no real live.

One could go on, on, on and on.


I do not want to spend my time

On something that is here and gone:

Never really here: illusion.


I Don’t Think I Want Fame 12.4.2015

Circling Round Reality; Our Times, Our Culture II;

Arlene Corwin




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