Arlene Corwin Poetry

When I write I try to not write what I’ve writ

The months before, knowing that

Each three clichés, each thrice said phrase

Is hinder to the mind’s synapse.

Used-up words five times five hundred,

Never wond’ring why I’ve done it:

I don’t want to copy –

Least of all myself and me.

Falling for the trick that quickens death of brain

Are quirks and quips and bits of what

You’re sure has happened, quoted over, over.

Mind’s a rover needing change.

I have friends who still say “weird” to amplify each seventh word;

“Weird” since nineteen eighty-four.

What it means I’ve no idea.

And what is that word  ‘weird’ good for?

Change the words,

For copying yourself is worst.

Am I copying my back life story?

Parroting, regurgitating clichés,

Making up my history?

Faking mystery

To make myself exciting?

Copying is weakening

For you, for me, for memory.

Variety’s the key.

You do not need to copy.

PS There’s a red line running through our lives: character, aptitudes, permanent throughout.  Bones grow up, grow old and change.  Penmanship changes.  Underneath there’s always a youyou recognize.  Keep it in the frontal lobe.  It’s there.

Don’t Copy 3.1.2015/revised 2.3.2016/ re-revised 9.27.2018 Definitely Didactic II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin