My Unconventional Life (to be continued, surely)
Awake with something wholly different on my mind:
That darned poetic drive
With its machinery and striving taking over,
Skin-deep first, reasoned second, (wisdom in),
Rhyme and meter; fun as fun,
Scholar sage replacing age.
I’ve become a Pavlov’ dog.
Waking up,
A milk-in-coffee cup,
Some vitamins ingested.
Nightgown dressed, pillow still pressed,
My Siamese twin, a pen and pad;
Ideas suggested
By a phrase I’ve read in bed
Or see on TV right before me:
Put together by a brain that’s mine
And that strange force one can’t define;
Force I cannot find and do not try to –
There, I know through
Ageing’s power of maturation.
A conglomeration.
One more daily benediction.
An endorsement of support;
A go-aead, thumbs up, a sign of admiration
Coming from a no place in particular.
Day launched, there’ll be some potpourri,
Some medley, miscellany
Gathering as day goes on,
The hours showing what to do;
The ‘whats’ a multitude, the ‘whats’ a few.
So like a Schwarzenegger,
“I’ll be back” to speak to you
Through word or song or what I’m equal to
That day, that time, that juncture.
My Unconventional Life 11.22.2018 Pure Nakedness II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II: Arlene Nover Corwin
Arlene Corwin Poetry 