What I’ve Touched Upon When Writ
All writing liquefies
Into the essence that is us.
All these years and all this verse
Have seen my purse of verse consist of
Yoga, war, health, mental training,
Reigning virtues, raining vices:
What is nice and what un-nicest.
With no purpose to instruct
It’s all didactic anyway,
Pushing gently on such threads as come to light.
There is no rush;
Interests shout out from inside;
The poet in me bears its clout
And there it turns to what I’ve writ.
Thoughts i never knew I had,
Vanities and odd connections.
Projections of this self of mine,
This mine which digging deep
Gets ever higher, steeper
Broader and more all-inclusive.
With no notions I begin;
Formerly concealed ideas win,
And there I am –
The inbuilt poet built on rhyme.
The whole with order, metered form;
And art, its aim,
The major part.
I find myself surprised
And sometimes overwhelmed.
Staggered by the honesty,
Astounded by profundity
That lies inside the wit:
Capacity’s originality dumbfounding.
There it’s turned to what I’ve writ.
What I’ve Touched Upon When Writ 5.30.2022 The Processes: Creative, Thinkng, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin
Arlene Corwin Poetry 