Arlene Corwin Poetry

Sitting Down To Play 🎹🤸‍♀️🎯

I may have heard a tune that noon
Or suddenly remembered one from out the past.
Breathing in (it’s called inspired )
Sitting down at keyboard, tired or not
I play a chord.
A transformation may take place
A consonant become a dissonant –
Anyway, completely right!

I carry on, and if the mood and mind are light,
Spontaneously born,
I get a fresh new version
Left not knowing what the right has shorn.

With instincts of a bass player and basic to my talents
(which I’ve long learned to respect?
I gallantly proceed to seed a whole new version
Of a song I’d long forgotten.
It’s like cottonwool onto my ears.
I leave the keyboard cleared of doubt,
Cheered by what strange voicings have come out.

Ah, yes, sitting down to play
Is likened to a sitting down to pray.
Can you agree, jazz player-reader?
Have you never had the pleasure
Of this pressure-less approach?
If not, I vouch for senses that are on
The way to exaltation
And in some way liberation.
Sitting down To Play 6.15.2019 Vaguely About Music II; Arlene Nover Corwin

This is actually a spontaneously inspired message of love and appreciation to new found Facebook friends from all over this varied globe.

         Cryptic Time

Posts from all the world!
Who would have thought that flags unfurled
For little me from many you,
And many you from little me.
I’m filled and swell!

Time passes and with glasses raised up high
I sigh a gladdened sigh
That sitting here on chair in Sweden
More than one admiring eye
Is reading this, this very minute
Taking in the things I have to say
On chairs a million miles away.

Quell mystery! For we
Will all be history a hundred years from now,
Perhaps no documentary fragment left
To inventory our best efforts.
Yet, we’re here, to write and wrestle with
A universe, and universal questions all have faced
Since time began.
And we, each other’s fan
Give love through likes and hearts and upraised thumbs.
Fumbling, tumbling round, zooming in on every crumb
That life can offer
Never coming to an ultimate.
Offering love to every Facebook friend
Not succumbing to the humdrum of an end
But encouraging each other.
Is that not grand!
Cryptic Time 6.14.2019 Circling Round Time !!; Circling Round Reality; Birth, Death & In Between III; Arlene Nover Corwin

Just looking through some old stuff and found this lovely one inspired when sitting in the living room with an extaordinarily bright full moon coming straight through my window.

  Mister Moon Looking Through The Window 🌎☛🎯🌝☛🎯🌎!

Mister Moon looking in the window,
Angled forty-five degrees or so.
Minutes before midnight, TV show still going strong,
Me inspired by his song,
The man who woos from distances I cannot reach,
Who tempting me with valley eyes and mountain nose,
River mouth, a face that shows
The whole of him for one sweet night:
Peachy ball
Seeing all.

I’m watching and he’s watching,
Yet there’s nothing he can give
Except the tides, the tears,
Moon madness fears.

From where I sit,
He looks a little
Lost in space,
That still, still face
Accepting veils of cloud,
Black veils that shroud,
Erasing, chasing, placing
His enigma high
Upon the lists: wherefrom and why?
We’re looking at each other through
The window’s creamy glow.
Mildly roused, inspired, I.
He, embracing from the sky.
A courtship undeniably absurd, unheard:
In silence.
(revised 7.20.2019 in celebration of the 50th anniversary of the moon landing, July 20, 1969)

Mister Moon Looking Through The Window 5.16.2003/revised 7.20.2019
Circling Round Nature; Love Relationships;
Arlene Corwin

This is a poem that’s meant to stop worry.
Arlene
Nobody Cares But You
(a poem about detachment)

It was a gig.*
Fancy hotel, piano/song.
Song was “Yesterday” by Kern –
A song I’d learned; five decades worn.
What could go wrong?
I knew the song from back to front,
Each bar, each note Jerome Kern wrote.
And then it happened in the bridge:**
Mind went blank! Memory rigid!
No matter how I searched and banged
I could not find the changes (chords),
Which key or what. Carrying on,
Not caring what the crowd
Was thinking, I remained the fool
On a piano stool until, at last,
The bumbling, stumbling passed
And I was back on track.

Key found, my vocal sound as good as ever,
I’d discovered never be stopped by obstacle or handicap;
Never let it sap nerve, verve or energies,
For I’m not there to serve or please;
I’m there to carry through a form of choice,
Give my jazz to some Corwin voice,
Let the moment be my norm
Never wishing for perfection
Or to make a good impression,
The interpretation mine, just mine,
Anything I manage fine, just fine.

There’s no such thing as flawlessness.
The folk out there more focussed
On its own concerns and interests,
Concentrative powers, capability and prowess
Lasting no more than a minute,
Public recall all but ‘perfect’.

Do your thing
Not just for God and king
But for the joy of self and self-fulfilling.
Dare, share, always there.
No one really cares but you.

Nobody Cares But You 12.26.2019
Pure Nakedness; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative; Vaguely About Music; Arlene Nover Corwin
*gig; musician’s jargon for job or engagement.
**bridge; the middle of a song, often called release.

Fooled and foiled by age’s changing:
Wrinkling cheek or thigh or arm;
Gaugeable cholesterol, a kidney stone…
The daughter product of my womb, her own
Cholesterol controlled, the whole of life
Now shown to be on loan
As kith and kin, e’en skin and bone
Are being clocked…
I am no longer shocked, no longer blocked,
No longer feel mocked by Law;
But flowing with it as it sows
And goes someplace that no one knows
Is understanding so much more
Than just the weeks or days before.

What Shall I Call This? 12.15.2008/revised 12.29.2019
Circling Round Wrinkles; Circling Round Nature II;
Mother Book; Circling Round Woman II; Birth, Death & In Between II;
Arlene Corwin

          Quiet Xmas🌲

There will be no presents, wrapped or not.
Gifts can be sought, bought, ought to
Anytime, occasion rhyming with a need one’s own.
Food? By all means, and of course!
Lots of courses, for it’s fun to cook,
Break traditions, keeping some.
Summing up a feel and food one’s own.

We’ve stopped the tree,
Tree steeped in earth or water.
Tree slaughtered for some seller’s coin.
In short, we’ve stopped the joining.

We’ll have friends to share in,
Setting out each comfy chair in
Spots where it is warm and charming.

We’ll create a pretty table.
We are able to afford a pretty table
Cause we’ve lots to pretty china,
Several sets of cutlery and once again –
It suits our needs
To feed our friends.

It will all be like jazz improvising,
Extemporizing something one has played for years,
Knowing well that the instinctive mind can take first place,
The space inside creating as it goes along
A luscious meal or gorgeous song.

Quiet, yes. But lonely, no.
Xmases will come and go,
It’s still a Christmas eve and day
Where one can shape it any way one pleases,
Easing into year that follows.
So, respected fellowship around the world,
Wishing you the best! Self-willed zest,
Peace of mind and joy and gladness!

Quiet Xmas 12.16.2019
Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Nover Corwin

 I truly do, and thought I’d tell you why because it used to be that publishing yourself was looked down upon (although Whitman himself did it)  I want to give it status.

  I Celebrate Self-Publishing

Whitman wrote “i Celebrate Myself”
And I took note of what he wrote.
I’ve celebrated selves for years;
Selves a salve to heal, but now
I celebrate the self that prints, the self that dares,
That puts it out to air
For all the world to share in.

Whether throwing pearls to swine
Or tasters of the finest wine,
One writes willing to pay the price –
No publisher for huge advances
To build bank accounts and confidences.

With one part fantasy,
One part ambition,
One part vanity –
Whatever motive,
Publishing itself is votive;
Concentrated vibrancy,
Sacrifice the price.

The prize? Who knows?
It’s simply nice to share and know
Your work’s on show
And maybe, just perhaps there will be those who ponder,
Thinking twice about to reconsider l
Life and all that it consists of:
Bad, good, hate, love…
So much you’ve conceived
That he or she perhaps received
Where you have been the catalyst.
This the gist that justifies.
The reason, point and feeling
Behind publishing
Yourself.
I Celebrate Self-Publishing 12.12.2019
The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin

H’llo Poetry 23
Arlene Corwin Poems
PUBLIC EDIT
Arlene Corwin 3h
What You Think & What You Do Is You
Remember this always:
Love,
Arlene

What You Think & What You Do Is You

To know, to really know by intuition what is true,
Rather than by intellect’s analysis,
Which going so far by the book
Will never brook reality, big R:
The star.

There in us seed of divinity,
But also personality and ignorance and folly
Which clog the way so constantly
As to obstruct each single day.

In theologic terms: Christian, Hindu, Taoist, Sufi
Shake hands on one thing categorically:
A unitive, intuitive discovery
Which sculpts life’s aim;
Truth, big T, its contemplation as an end,
Activity its means.

Belief in humans doesn’t work.
You only have to look.
We fight, we kill, we’re angry as we lurk in corners
Passing laws to dig for more
Deep oil, coal… searching from a parched ambition,
Marketing on boundless scales the superficial and addictive
While vindictive leaders staunchly march,
Their Janus faces smiling, starched.

Philosophic, scientific principles at odds –
Where, what, if there is a god.
To know, to really know the double-sides
Of all observed would serve the good.

If you (or Man) will spend the time,
Insides reaching for the prime,
The look inside its total aim,
Some good must come of it;
Not total good, but it’s a start.
The brain connected then to heart,
The body horse, synapses cart.

Abnegation (not negation) of the ego,
Trying out the test of virtue
Probably, no, certainly will help
Speed up this royal trip.
You bet there will be blips galore,
So try some more to reach the core
Of Truth within, for
What you think and what you do is you.

What You Think & What You Do Is You 12.7.2019
Circling Round Reality; Circling Around Everything II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Written by
Arlene Corwin Sweden

27 1

Remember this always:
Love,
Arlene

What You What You Think & What You Do Is You

To know, to really know by intuition what is true,
Rather than by intellect’s analysis,
Which going so far by the book
Will never brook reality, big R:
The star.

Their is in us seed of divinity,
But also personality and ignorance and folly
Which clog the way so constantly
As to obstruct each single day.

In theologic terms: Christian, Hindu, Taoist, Sufi
Shake hands on one thing categorically:
A unitive, intuitive discovery
Which sculpts life’s aim;
Truth, big T, its contemplation as an end,
Activity its means.

Belief in humans doesn’t work.
You only have to look.
We fight, we kill, we’re angry as we lurk in corners
Passing laws to dig for more
Deep oil, coal… searching from a parched ambition,
Marketing on boundless scales the superficial and addictive
While vindictive leaders staunchly march,
Janus faces smiling, starched.

Philosophic, scientific principles at odds –
Where, what, if there is a god.
To know, to really know the double-sides
Of all observed would serve the good.

If you (or Man) will spend the time,
Making inside’s reach the prime,
The look inside its total aim,
Some good must come of it;
Not total good, but it’s a start.
The brain connected then to heart,
The body horse, synapses cart.

Abnegation (not negation) of the ego,
Trying out the test of virtue
Probably, no, certainly will help
Speed up this royal trip.
You bet there will be blips galore,
So try some more to reach the core
Of Truth within, for
What you think and what you do is you.

What You Think & What You Do Is You 12.7.2019
Circling Round Reality; Circling Around Everything II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Extract from a letter answering a friend about my productivity:
“I have neither habit nor stamina – at least not consciously. It’s more from laziness – the writing, that is. I see, hear or read a phrase or reportage and I’m off! That’s it! And because repetition creates habit, be it smoking, biting your nails, or quilting – then if you have a particular talent, well, there it is – the automatic stamina and habit..”

       A Poet’s Rationalisation

She writes daytime and night.
She’s neither stamina nor habit.
It’s because she’s lazy.
When she’s complimented (as she’s been at times)
The only word that has occurred’s tenacity.

Reading, seeing reportage, message hitting the right the spot,
And lo, she’s hot!
Computer open, blank page there
And she is where she ought to be,
Comfy, lazy, some ability
Wakened for the sake of…
Nothing!

Prolific – she’s aware of it.
Gazillion ideas make her sit.
And when she sits and pushed to write,
She writes because it’s what
She’s pushed to from within, without,
Stimulation like a clout from heaven –
Happy as sandboy,
Seventh heaven’s brand new toy,

Theory, philosophy, hypothesis,
This, her only explanation
For the many extant stanzas
Published and unpublished
With no purpose whatsoever.

Thank you to whomever
Pays a tribute or has praised
Or lauded and applauded reveries,
The fantasies that intellect can cover.
What more can one ask for?

A Poet’s Rationalisation 12.6.2019
The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin