Pain of Place

        Pain Of Place

We were happy or we weren’t.

Blended feelings formed the most;

College, restaurant, bookshop, church,

Street, park, architecture host

To chunks and bits of searching,

Forming eyes of yesterday.

Covered market, cups of tea,

Open market on a Wednesday,

Stalls of veggies, jewelry;

Child to school and child picked up,

The walking to, the walking back,

The elder tree we plucked, hands cupped,

While counted blocks betrayed a lack

Of some fulfillment. What the target?

Surely not the streets and market.

Not the people either, nor

The daily passing through home’s door.

Gone. But pictures still remain.

And with the pictures tints of pain.

Of place that’s not the face,

Not company.

The place acts independently,

Its energy “the spirit of…”

Its colors move.

Algos: pain.

Nostos: going home again.

Sweet nostalgia’s pull is ‘bull’.

Place may frame the pre-ordained;

Memory’s the game pre-pained.

Twists and lists: a dream.

Place and act, smell and sound:

Mind boundaries.

Mostly, we were happy or we weren’t.



Tansformong A Bad Poem Into A Good Poem

Transforming A Bad Poem Into A Good Poem

       (tinkering & fooling ‘round)

It may take days, months, years:

You tinker.

That’s the key.

To definitely not linger,

But go ‘way, come back, go on

To see with psychic opticons

(my own construct-ee-on) a vision

Of’ creative options,

Freedom new,

A fooling ‘round that’s new for you –

And you are new and changed a little;

Flexible, unbrittle-ized,

(another word vocabul-ized)

A new-sized you

Wherein you see the tool in all,

And all’s a tool.

You’ve fooled around

Just as I’ve done

With word and sound,

And lo, a sound and solid poem transformed


Bad to good.



With eyes revitalized

You’ve seen creative possibilities that revolutionize…

You are one might say, well revised

Wherein you see life as a tool

To take the mundane to the blissful.

Transforming A Bad Poem To A Good Poem 7.6.2016/8.19.2016 Revised 1.18.2018 Definitely Didactic; A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Corwin


There Is A You That’s Only You

There Is A You That’s Only You

There is a You that’s only you

And no one else:

The meditative point’s dynamic

Force that stimulates all progress;

Within the system You or process.

You the core, nub, bottom line:

You without a fine distinction.


There is a Cause that’s cause

And nothing, nowhere else.

For some an easy goal,

Even a means of solid gold.


The point of points is to unite

The You that’s only you with Cause,

Invisible, one might

Proclaim invincible.


So let us start with you, your tool:

Arms, legs, trunk, head

Inside of which the trillion cells

(More than the stars, the galaxy’s as well)

Which make up I and All Q that is you.


Why do you think they’re there?

To share with others, naturally,

But to evolve to unity:

A two in one,

(or if you’re into Trinity

Then three…)


To make the story short,

Wise thinkers, seers over all the planet

Have perceived pragmatically

Two ends:

To find the You that’s only you;

To get into

The Cause that’s root.

After which you’re through

To all that is and true.

The end.

There Is A You That’s Only You 1.9.2018 To The Child Mystic II; Revelations Big & Small; Arlene Corwin









Jazz: I Heal

A jazz musician myself, I feel this strongly.

         Jazz: I Heal

I am jazz. I heal the soul

Of player – and of listener.

I, spontaneous, create a whole

From themes, small tunes,

Two bars, small strains…

I add to brain’s complexity.

I give the ear holistically simplicity,

The hearer symbiosis.


I am jazz, a riff.

The opposite of stiff,

Flexibility personified,

I move without, within a chord.

I must be heard to be appreciated.

Played to be created.

I love to share my air

And air my song.

I can’t go wrong –

From Dixie, swing to bebop,

I change with the times that show up,

For, as jazz, I’m real,

And I heal.

Jazz: I Heal 1.8.2018 Vaguely About Music II; Arlene Corwin









No One’s Gonna Do It If You Don’t Do It Yourself

No One’s Gonna Do It If You Don’t Do It Yourself

Be it yoga, exercise or writing,

Cooking, cleaning, take-delight-in;

Money might give luxury –

And that’s ok,

Since you give work away

To somebody

To feed his or her family.

However, theme still meant,

Not taking back the thought behind,

The title holds as poem unfolds:


No one’s wiping your behind,

Maintaining vigor or your mind.

No one’s there to think your thought,

Determine what you should or ought,

Emerge, come out, erupt, unfold,

Take care of parts becoming old.

No one will mature but you.

Nothing in the world will change

Except for you, that being all that you can do.


The world outside may set in motion

Trends – in war and in religion,

Ideas in you you’d like get done.

It is, will always be your job to turn

Days into [loving, peaceful] fun.

Your attitudes, expanded, broadened;

Yours to make life two in one:

From work to play, from tears to un-



So, in gratitude for plentitude,

That comes from self-reliance,

Make sure that you keep in mind,

No one’s gonna do it

If you don’t do it yourself.

No One’s Gonna Do It If You Don’t Do It Yourself 1.5.2018 I Is Always You Is We;








One Of Those Big Questions

After a sleepless night (well, almost) of meditating, bed yoga and dreaming, this came out this morning while in the bath.

       One of Those Big Questions

 When you get an onset

Of increased insight

And you’re over eighty,

Is it spirit’s harmony, development,

Maturity or dementia?

When you’ve a memory

You never had,

It is good or bad,

Repentance or dementia come

To its fruition?

Intuition of impending end

With chemicals awakened,

Synapses that take you backward

To a time gone by?

Does memory just lie there

Always and forever

To make use of, never severed;

Persevered unconsciously?

One of those big questions answered

Gradually, then suddenly.

One Of Those Big Questions 1.3.2018 Revelations big & Small; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Corwin

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