Very,Very & Fantastic

She struggles with each verb and noun,

Adjective, conjunction, article and even


All to better brain:


The art parts, smart parts,

A la carte parts.


There are leaders:

Chairmen of the boards who stay

Long adolescent in some way.

Ambitious, never swaying

From their standpoints, outlooks and perspective. Oy!

A very, very Oy yoy yoy!


“I am best! Don’t mess with me,

Don’t carp or bleat.

My words unquestionably


And those who choose to disagree…

Are rendered useless usefully.

My deeds, and all I nominate

Are very, very, very great!

I live on very un-elastic,

Very, very and fantastic!


Very, Very & Fantastic 7.29.2017

A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Our Times, Our Culture II;

Arlene Corwin




I Cook For My Husband #2 (shaved & scissored)

     I Cook For My Husband #2 (shaved & scissored)


I cook for my husband

The way I would cook for a king.

And I’d cook for the king

(If ever he’d ring)

The way I cook for my husband.

With skill, choice and taste of the day,

What e’er’s in the cupboard to make a buffet

Fit for a king or my husband.

No problem or trouble,

Food is a bubble

Lasting an hour from mouthful to bowel.

If house guest should scowl or glower or frown,

Finding it uphill to get the food down,

I take it serenely,

Comport myself queenly,

Tell him or her

The next meal will be better,

It’s fine to leave morsels of food on the plate

And leave it at that,

It being one method to never get fat.


I Cook For My Husband #2 7.27.2017

Definitely Didactic; I Is Always You Is We;

Arlene Corwin




Sitting In My Own Light (one more funeral)

Sitting In My Own Light

  (one more funeral)


Sitting in my own light,

Senses alert.

Eyes see, ears hear –

Most of all, the brain is clear,

Emotions still.

Still one more funeral –

Or three or four,

Waiting for those bells to toll.


Sitting In My Own Light 7.27.2017

Birth, Death & In Between II;

Arlene Corwin

In A Quandary

In a quandary. In a pickle.

Temptation and dependency;

Enslaved by self-indulgence;

Keenness that becomes a blend

Of day’s beginning and day’s end.


On the bus, inside the car,

Telephone beside the ear;

Walking, talking to yourself? Oh no,

It’s talking to a god-knows-who

For god-knows-why.


Am I the only person

Riled by this phenomenon?

Addiction to diversion

In the guise of help and benefit?

Yes, even these can dig the pit

Of hell-p-less-ness.

Information, facts mind-blowing, quick.

Fascination and allurement on a stick.


Having learned some new found tricks –

Heartening, supportive pick-me-ups,

One notices, (I notice) that the

‘Pickle’ quickly trickles down

Into those risky parts of vanity,

Its need for company

And other longings.


Frisky sports who gaily own

Desktops, laptops, Ipads, smart phones…

Know what I talk about:

Joy that takes you from yourself

While telling you it is yourself:


Programs, sites and violent games,

Interaction with big names –

Presidents and criminals –

All their problematic schemes:

Everything’s on board for every sort:

The bored, the interested, the scared.

The strong, the undecided: snared.


A sticky, tricky, muddled mess,

A sanctuary become quandary:

Game of chess and source of stress

And one we seldom choose to harness;


Can one win it?

I’m not sure. I’m in it.


In A Quandary 7.26.2017

Our Times, Our Culture II; Circling Round Reality;

Arlene Corwin


Once I Was Young

A cliché maybe,

For the multitudes have said it,


One thinks it now and then,

In one way or another.

Situation, circumstance transport it to

The frontal lobe.

One probes the wardrobe of the brain

Where dreams have lain

And lie there still, so very still and quiet.


But today I chanced to see

A photograph of me

And chanced to say,

“Once I was young”.

It did not feel like cliché,

But fresh, revivifying

Memories I had not thought about,

Affections that now brought about

Sensations not particularly rosy –

But not jarring either.

More a nosy statement not opposing fact;

In fact, prosaic,





Was young

Not to

Be that again.

Do you

Experience that also?

Once I Was Young 7.23.2017

Birth, Death & In Between II; Circling Round Aging;

Arlene Corwin




This Body

Pesky, troublesome, capricious;

Efforts to control a wild-goose chase,

Farcical: a waste.

A strain in vain; hurts when it hurts;

Longings and desires, when and where it will,

Its underskirts.


It goes its way, in the way

And sometimes, thank the Lord, not…

One is forced to say,

“This is my lot.

I’ll do what I can do to help it stay

As long as possible;

Comfortable, perhaps good-looking, but

God knows, that part is least.”

This body is a beast

With some kind of intelligence that lies in destiny.


Goodbye old vanity,

Old friend one used to think so highly of,

Be steered by and obey.

Goodbye old energies one understood so little too.

Goodbye old you –

With arms, legs, trunk,

All of its useful junk inside;

The ride, the slide,

The destination thought its own,

Just bone,

If that.


You notice I don’t call it ‘my’,

Belonging as it does to nature.

‘It’ an it and ‘this’ a this; this body a bo-die.


This Body 7.15.2017

Circling Round Vanities II; Birth, Death & In Between II; Nature Of & In Reality;

Arlene Corwin



It Has Been A Lifetime Of…

It has been a lifetime of, well, meditation:

Meditation/prayer, prayer weaker

(more appeal and supplication

Than an offering without a question).


Not really lifetime, I admit, but,

Years and years of seeking It,

Approaching It, trying to find, bind Arlene

With hope that she’ll become more than a hopeless dope;

Hope and that arcane, otherworldly word

That rhymes with earth and mirth and forth and wraith:


“What can it be?”(said she inscrutably).

Of course, it’s faith!

The hardest of the hard.

(Don’t let them kid you what they say they’ve got it)

Faith both gift and hard, hard practice.

Owning, losing day to day.


It’s been a lifetime – that’s for sure.

But life continues now to now:

Day to day, year to year

And meditation and the prayer

(Each in its place) continue too.

The real me

Still uncompleted

As of our poetic meet

This very heartbeat.


It’s Been A Lifetime Of…7.13.2017

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

Arlene Corwin

The Books I Write & Thoughts At Night

It’s 2am and I awaken.

Thoughts break in

And I begin:


I write the books.

Charming, informative.

They do not sell.


Carefully worked on and out until they gel,

Spontaneous but ne’er pell-mell,

Tight, concise, the format small;

Life’s storms,

Its call to arms,

A bawling at our time’s alarms,

Wailing ‘gainst life’s wailing wall,

Admiring the beauty of it all…


What e’er it is I have to tell:

They do not sell.

So what the hell!


But what is hell?

The poet’s railing wall?

Perhaps the tiresome need to sell.


The Books I Write & Thoughts At Night 7.12.2017

A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Our Times, Our Culture II;

Arlene Corwin


The Books I Write & Thoughts At Night




Selfies & The (Selfish) Need

Rembrandt painted hundreds in one medium or t’other.

Thanks to photo’s techno-grams

Selfies of all kinds abound,

Home paintboxes thick on the ground

Which begs the question:

Exploration or self-love?

Motives passive and elusive, definitely inconclusive,

Probably a votive to self-love;

The selfie shows its needs up front.

Pretext for one’s vanity, its insecurity.


Then there’s the blog:

A kind of selfie, yes?

There to impress via modernity’s express

A world you hope

Is waiting for your scoop,

Your dope, your poop.


When you’ve seen a glut of bodies

Photo-shopped and chopped to please,

Is there more you need to see?

Or is it true desire breeds desire

And that fact a warning dire?


Impudently, imprudently

Continuing until we rue the days that bluntly

Lead us nowhere in particular

But to the usual, predictable, familiar wrinkling

And the loss of beauty’s pull.

Selfies & The (Selfish) Need 7.5.2017

Circling Round Vanities II;

Arlene Corwin

You Need Someone Who Believes In You

     You Need Someone Who Believes In You

It sounds romantic; a cosmetic; I would say,

It’s more a cosmic underlay:

A kind of agent, sent

To shout your name world over.

Someone to communicate

The rare fresh flower that you are;

Star-becoming-bigger star;

Someone booming out your gifts,

Strumming, humming wide and far

About your lifting gifted star;

Friday’s date, friend, mate,

Adorable, adoring pet;

Someone there to vindicate and validate

Your expertise,

The artistries



Build a statue

Honoring your values

And of course, your value:

Someone who believes in you.

You Need Someone Who Believes In You 7.2.2017 Definitely Didactic; Arlene Corwin



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