What Is Faith, Really?

The Pope is coming here today, ‘here’ being Sweden.

Sweden has around a hundred fifty thousand Catholics;

Loyal bricks

In a religion with its world mystique;

Jesus the pivot, One-theistic.

Kind of him. Kind and broad-minded.

Plans to meet with not just Catholic,

But Jew, Muslim, Buddhist, Lutheran –

A sojourn


So what is faith?

It’s expectation, trust, conviction, hopefulness and confidence

In something that can only just be sensed,

For instance,

If you’ve faith in money, you can touch the money,

But the green can never guarantee the thing,

The happiness that it will bring,

And for how long.

Imperceptible, invisible, an energy

With wish inbuilt;

A wish and hope.

I understand the atheist.

To him the whole unjust-ifiable and –fied;


He can’t believe in God.

But what he doesn’t understand

Is that he too has faith –

Perhaps in love, his father, mother, one

Or other institution:

Faith in something –

All of it a veiled or unnoticed hint;

A blended tint linking the man to one thing

Or another.*

*of course when I say man, I mean both, all and every gender.

What Is Faith, Really? 10.31.2016

Our Times, Our Culture II; To The Child Mystic II; God Book II; Swedish Book;

Arlene Corwin


Cosmic Coordination

The moment of now can never come again,

Never to be repeated:

A double-sided coin –

Now and not.


To be used, it must be used for what it is –

An irreplaceable

To use up to the hilt;

An instant problem to be solved –

Just then.

A life improvisation.


As for influences,

You don’t need to take them,

You can give from what you are

For you are synchronized with universes –

Yes you are.


And so it is.


Cosmic Coordination 10.30.2016

Nature Of & In Reality;

Arlene Corwin




A Day Of Thinking or This Is The Way My Brain May Work On Any Given Day

                   Breakfast In Bed

No one in this world

Makes thinner toast,

Better toast, winner toast.

You do not boast.

How have you learned to slice

This near-transparent, indisputably crunchy piece of bliss!

What skill! And modest too!

No one can make such toast as you.


               Going In To Thank

Going into different segments of the brain

I thank for life in any of the synapses.

Is there a gratitude partition

Or a separate, section – special one?

An all-inclusive?

I don’t always feel it – just today.

It probably will go away.

I hope it leaves a record.


         Late Afternoon

Deep, deep inside

I’m feeling tired of society.

It’s like, what I imagine to be

What they call depression.

It’s connected to reality; civilization.

There’s the problem –

It’s not me, it’s them!

I ought to put away the TV (I’ve no phone)

Things electronic, dailies, monthlies,

All things histrionic;

The destructive, scandalous and shocking;

All things not-to-be: illusory.

Noel Coward wrote “World Weary” –

A light, song for something serious.

Perhaps that’s it!

There still exist fall hues phantasmagorical:

Food tastes, sweet music, friends amusing, loyal,

Beauty, animals…and still I feel

Despite the goodness,

Deep, deep sadness at the mess.


A Day Of Thinking 10.28.2016

Circling Round Reality;

Arlene Corwin


The Tendency In All Of Us

         The Tendency In All Of Us


There is a tendency in all of us

To be extreme: inherent and in situ;

Likely to appear when time is ripe.

The husband had a kidney stone.

He cut out spinach.

Not one leaf, one atom – that, despite its iron

Reached his lips, his tongue, his throat.

Because of its remote connection to a stone.


One can imagine what becomes of one

Whose tendency is greater than

The kidney man

Who soon or later,

Prone to act on notions

Which have conquered reason



The Tendency In All Of Us 10.25.2016

Nature Of & In Reality; Our Times, Our Culture II;

Arlene Corwin


Non-Sequiturs, Or Are They?

Silly me!

Quelle luxury!

I turn the tap for water


Royalty not long ago

Did not, could not

Have had it better!

All that labor they went through

Just to get to water!

Then a tap of radiator

And the room is warm as toast.

If wanted, I could roast

A towel, but who’d want to?


And swell!

Quelle luxury!


         Watching A Fly


Watching a fly.

Have I matured –

Grown more compassionate?

He walks around my empty plate

On nano- crumbs I’ve eaten/ate.

He looks so cute, endearing, pretty.

What the deuce is wrong with me?

Or right with me?

Is that what happens when one’s reached




Non-Sequiturs 10.22.2016

A Sense Of The Ridiculous II;

Arlene Corwin








Watch The Mind

Watch the mind, it’s really quirky.

Let it go and watch it work,

For when you see what it creates

(I don’t see how ‘cause that’s a secret:

‘How’ and ‘why’ the hidden states),

You may discover what a neat trick

To stand back, let go and watch.

Letting go, a chance to snatch

At fantasy creative:

Courage by encouragement.


Fantasy invents by fancy

Giving order to what’s left.

Creativity can steal from nature’s bank

And it’s not theft,

The dancing arts all mind expanding –

Honey way to jar the door

Of quintessential being –

Just by watching what goes on

And doing what needs to be done.


Watch The Mind 7.8.1994

The Processes: Creative. Thinking, Meditative; To The Child Mystic;

Arlene Corwin










(Yet Another) Portrait Of A Friend

I have a friend

Who has a perfect memory.

You might think it’s a perfect gift.

We have to sift through thoughts –

That is, you, I – but he,

He pictures everything,

Recalls it all: dates, times, the history

Complete. What could be wrong

With knowing all the lyrics to each song

You hear?

Draw near, I’ll tell you:


He retains the good and bad.

He’s filtered nothing. Think if you should

Shoulder all the woes of life?

The sad, the mad, the wars, the strife?

Besides the perfect recall,

He sees everything in black and white:

It’s either awe-inspiring or shit.

I’d guess it’s vexing

To remember each and every second

And, on top of which, to have opinions strong,

Be never wrong: one of his ‘strong’ opinions .

Plus, he takes offense, pretends indifference.

Yet, we’re friends.

I always yield, always bend.

You see, I am indifferent

And I’m charmed.


(Yet Another) Portrait Of A Friend 10.19.2016

Love Relationships II; Special People, Special Occasions; Small Stories Book;

Arlene Corwin



Sitting in the car

Mulling over near and far,

There,  and what is definitely here:


Youth cannot envision eighty-two.

Doctors too. They cannot ‘feel’ eighty-two:

Your doctor, my…

So many symptoms pass them by.

‘Tis pity, for ‘tis I who suffer,

I, who faced with ebb and tide analyze,

Use the self through trial and t-error;

I, who ponder, for I must,

There being no one I dare trust –

(Except for deity unseen

Who has the charge of body mine)


Geron (Greek for old man) –ology (the study of)

Is what is needed, given that

The young can never feel out

Time’s dealing out.


Apprentice doctors in their prime

Should get to know the facts of age,

The pages, wages of real life,

For theory is theory

Until you get there by yourself.


With visits by appointment only,

This is the die that disappoints

(The lie that also disappoints) when I,

Life’s force in slow decline

Am looking for relief.


Gerontology 10.18.2016

Circling Round Aging;

Arlene Corwin



Gerontology 10.18.2016

Circling Round Aging;

Arlene Corwin


I’ve Had Many Names

I’ve Had Many Names


Arlene Faith









But the last

Which was the last,

Which is the last.


Still, one is fastened

To the first –

The very first

One got at birth.


Now that this life is all but over,

Though one might rove some twenty more,

(Ending in you-know-what,

Though you do not think about it)

Arlene Faith Nover,

Has had many names.


I’ve Had Many Names 10.16.2016

Pure Nakedness; Love Relationships II; Birth, Death & In Between II; Birthday Book;

Arlene Corwin


It’s Always For Others To Interpret

I was reading, by some fluke, a book that’s been sitting in the hall waiting to be given away to some charity or other. On this day, I happened to pick it up on my way out to sit in the October sun. The name: The Nobel Prize for Literature 1901-1983.


It’s Always For Others To Interpret


Dylan’s won the Nobel Prize.

You write, you fall, you rise,

Or rise and fall

Pleasing none or all.

You’ve written self…part of…

Round themes of evil, good, dark shadows, love –

All universal;

That, despite the personal,

For I is always you is we

With never objectivity,

But always subjectivity,

Seeing what we need to see.


The ‘prize of prizes’ always questioned

While the choosers are sequestered, and

We never know their standard.


Be yourself! That’s a command!

You’ll never will, unanimously,

Be a star (though shining brightly),

Idolized by all the masses

(Think of Jesus).


You can just write for self alone,

Not cloning some source you admire.

Others will attire you

With clothes of their imagining,

Projecting who and what they are.

Your star will always be you

Till you die and after.


It’s Always For Others To Interpret 10.14.2016

Special People, Special Occasions; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Vaguely About Music II;

Arlene  Corwin

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