Creating’s Processes Improved

   Creating’s Processes (a really long poem)

We sit around cup after cup,
Discuss and grope, gripe, discuss;
Is it God or is it us? Nature’s biogenesis?
Wrench of wills and cycles?
In any case, most things we face we can’t control:
There on Monday, not on Tuesday or at all.
How to get a hold when absent,
Gone away or non-existent?
Does one change the norm of form?
Obstruct the mechanised cliché?
Let some fashion run your psyche?

Anyway, what is creation? Creativity, it too?
Is is ever repetition? Is it always something new?
Schumann’s mad and still he writes.
Ludvig von fights deafness’ curse –
Can’t rehearse but still rehearses.
Schubert writes, his flat half frozen.
Can he help that he is chosen?
Genius writes despite itself;
Keeps the paper on the shelf,
Pencil present, fingers ready
Even though sad fate’s unsteady.
Strapping paintbrush to the wrist,
Memorizing palette’s sequence;
Using energies and purpose:
Dance, paint, sing. expecting nothing.
What you will, just don’t keep still, (except inside),
In the cyclone’s silent eye creation starts its noisy ride
From vacuum to a world outside.

Worry, debt, depression: use them!
Fuse them to their opposites.
Writing is the ruse to lose them.
Sit or lie. Wear more when cold.
Aspirin, coffee – anything to get a hold.

Just to be there is a way
To open “Open sesame!”
Pardon the tautology,
But letting thinking flow, discovering that thinking’s flow
Is equal to what ancients knew
And men of wisdom always know.

Trite likes trite, the deep lie deep;
The wise like wisdom, sleepy sleep:
Like mostly likes to go to to like;
Take comfort in your influence.
You are a source of influence.
Trust and sense that you are one
To break down fences, get things done.
Tainted gifts can last awhile
But purity will run the mile.
You never know what word, what hush,
What syllable will start the gush of spontaneity.
The seeing that each thing thing has beauty,

My teacher told me: Inner order is the feature turning vision into creature; inner nature always there in miniature to be searched for, found and nurtured.

Their are stores and scores of banks before you.
We all start out somewhat fake.
Take from the best and wind up true.
This poem is one which may show home:
Learning that the grace of time
is all there is to mutate fate or mediate
And all that you can do is wait, stay calm, and say, “I am”.
You are a slice of nowness; a far-reaching yes;
A person in the universe –
The universe in person.

Creating’s Processes 6.18.2021 The Processes; Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin

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