I’d Like To Cut Down Summer Ferns

     Yesterday was, in Sweden, the day after Midsummer. A day when one is tired from having, almost certainly celebrated the summer solstice with partying and too much food and drink. We were no exception. We held our yearly neighbor pot luck in our beautifully decorated boathouse, its lawn all mowed, prepared for games, the accordion well tuned and lovingly played.
     In my next day fatigue, I sat in the sun, body exhausted but ideas flowingly showing, I wrote poetry from the sublime to the ridiculous: four in all. No mean feat. I’ll start with the ridiculous.
 
     I’d Like To Cut Down Summer Ferns✍️
 
I’d like to cut down summer ferns
Expanding in our garden.
Green ferns primeval,
Which ferns rival
All the flower beds surrounding.
Beautiful indeed, all feathery and willowy,
Silly me, I shouldn’t mind at all,
But they are growing taller by the hour.
They survived the dinosaur.
We don’t stand a chance, for that, my friends is power!
 
Hubby won’t allow it,
So I sit and wait,
The date of their demise in months,
While size
Increases up and sideways,
Sowing seeds for future summers.
 
Showing up in May, it’s June,
And they’re not going anywhere down under soon.
They’ve reached the rhododendron tree in height.
What I would do to earn the right
To cut the [gorgeous] ferns right down
To root and ground
And plant a plum tree there or near –
Something edible and useful,
Beddable, a flower bed and beautiful.
 
Oh well, and Sigh! And me oh my!
I guess I’ll learn
To love that fern
When it’s two stories high,
Shading out the blue of sky,
Or,
Cloning a new-fangled dinosaur.
 
I’d Like To Cut Down Summer Ferns 6.23.2018 Circling Round Nature II; A Sense of The Ridiculous II; Arlene Nover Corwin

The Whole Of Sweden’s Wearing Beards

Can’t help it. I see what I see!✍️
 
The Whole Of Sweden’s Wearing Beards
 
The whole of Sweden wears a beard.
Dare I say weird?
To go around all day un-sheared!
That, combined with bods tattooed:
Chest, breast, throat
And not a centimeter nude
(As made in God’s good world).
I am confused.
A new prosthetic? Possibly.
Aesthetic? Frequently.
A thing to lean upon,
Confirm an ego and/or vanity
That ought to go,
But no, it can’t,
The tattoo being permanent!
Beards! What are they there for?
To hide the origin of doubled chin – one just beginning?
Arctic winter?
Saving shaving?
What’s it for?
Why would one want one hair more!
 
I wouldn’t want to kiss a beard:
Whirly, curly,
Itchy, scratchy…
None a match for girlie me.
They’re dominating TV;
Interviewers, program leaders.
All I want are clean-cut readers.
 
One day someone just appeared
And pioneered a new grown beard.
A new veneer
Had filled the sphere: a fad was born;
The bearded fashion was in action.
 
I am waiting till it passes,
And the fashion turns to glasses
Or an emphases on ar___s.
Who can say?
 
The Whole Of Sweden’s Wearing Beards 6.17.2018 A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Our Times, Our Culture II; Swedish Book; Arlene Nover Corwin
 
 
 
 
 
 

Everything I Think, I Write

Some wonderful somebody In Hello Poetry (Ella Johnson) described my work as “amazing”.  I’m flattered beyond words. Such a powerful compliment makes one hardly feel worth it, BUT, if I it is that, it is because:
     Everything I Think, I Write
Everything I think, I write,
For better or for worse,
And since
I cogitate throughout the days,
The thought-turned-phrase
Converts the days to thought-turned-verse.
For some it’s money that’s thought bound.
For some it’s family circled round
Family, worry, God or Death.
My thing is Truth.
Through diverse channels,
Canals all, the universal stall of measure.
I see all as Truth the Treasure.
I can’t stop.  And who would want to.
Rhythm, melody and phrase
The driving craze in me. Yippee!
Here comes the sister poem called Everything Is Worth A Poem #2,
/ I’ve written one before).
If you’ve a sense of rhythm, rhyme,
Metered time, it’s worth a poem.
It may be so-so at the start,
But blurt it out, impart a theme,
It’s worth a go
To watch the darndest things start flowing.
As they insight into…
Clichés there will have to be.
It’s hard to say new, clear things simply.
Idioms on which you grew, they’re you, real you.
Take Dante. Using the colloquial,
To say the deepest things.
And pray!  They’ve lasted,
Nay, outlasted…never to decay as past.
You may start a shallow fellow –
Sleepy, hollow.
You have thoughts – just not developed;
Still a pearl inside the scallop;
You use couplets as your form.  Later on they won’t seem normal.
As you broaden, you’ll be lauded
By the gods of verse in Auden heaven.
Though this may turn out to be
A poem six hundred ninety-three,
And oh, so corny
You can see
It is the height of luxury
And makes me rapturously happy.
Everything I Think I Write 6.16.2018 A Sense Of Ridiculous II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin

People Get Tattoos

Given the popularity of tattoos, beards, shaven heads, holes in the body…et al, I’m enclosing this highly relevant observation written first in 2002, revised in 2004 and now again in 2018.
        People Get Tattoos
People get tattoos because
They think that there’s no change,
Because they’re vain, in love:
They think they choose, because
They’ve no idea at all
The rain in Spain lies mainly
In the plain,
That muscle turns
And what was breast or chest and firm,
De-firms, deforms
With budding bicep rose
Becoming wrinkled, wilted posy of-the-elbows.
I suppose it’s all to do
With time and how we throw
Away our energies, with time
Outgrowing side- and peepshow
We all worshipped once with gusto.
Oh, tattoo, you are a symbol
Of myopia and youth,
A cockeyed view of truth
That lets us down.
Still, people will demand tattoos,
Refusing all discussion
Until gusto gets to be disgust.
Nothing one can do
Except boo-hoo
This triste refrain to all who’ll listen;
Self abstain , and be a witness.
People Get Tattoos 1.18.2004 revised from 6.17.2002 re-revised 5.22.2018 A Sense Of The Ridiculous II;; Definitely Didactic II; Circling Round Vanities II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Utterly, Utterly Lazy

     Utterly, Utterly Lazy

 I can be utterly, utterly –

Quadruple utterly

Lazy.

That’s me.

Tempted to put on my shirt

Inside out,

Backwards, frontwards,

Not caring which route.

Tempted to not put my foot in my shoes,

But to bend the backs, break them

Or any way fake way to get into

Just ‘cause I cannot be bothered to take them

And put them on carefully.

Utterly, utterly is an unfortunate

Euphemized statement,

Meant to confess the degree

With a light delicacy.

Yesiree, that is the real me

Under it all,

Everything else being shawl

To disguise and protect it,

And that’s the absurdity

Of being lazy.

Utterly Lazy 4.30.2018 A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Arlene Corwin

 

A Career From Bed

         A Career From Bed

It’s luxury.

To lie in bed, thinking thoughts;

Pillowed head, notepad and whatnots;

Lifting laptop at my side

(my writing bride –

or husband, as the case may be)

And write my poetry.

 

Uncomplicated, ‘easy peasy’

(English jargon) child’s play

To type some fragments,

Work them through,

Sending them away

To you.

 

In come the comments.

Not a penny changes hands.

No long-term contracts –

Only contacts,

“Like you”come-backs

Unseen as a daytime star:

With sweet, smart followers galore.

 

This passive bed of roses

Lap of splendor and much more…

Career from bed

Conducted solely from my head,

Solely in unsaid creation.

What in heavens could be bed-der?

(Sorry for the awful pun;

An un-withstandable temptation).

A Career From Bed 4.4.2018 A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

 

 

Vanity Or What?

I’ve re-written Vanity Or What…  When I read it over this evening I hated it.  The sequences needed adjusting, the whole thing made more sense of.  it was too abstruse, downright vague the way it stood.  Crap.  Here it is:  I hope it’s better, clearer, stronger.

       Vanity Or What?  Or Not?

 Will they miss me when I’m gone?

Would they miss me if I went?

Is the Facebook thing, this Instagram,

Snapchat, this and Snapchat that  –

Is only just to reassure, insure and all the -sures

An immortality that’s hardly possible

With such as these?

A question and a statement.

 

If you should land upon an isle,

No phone, no clothing, just a smile,

Who’d care that you’re not there or where?

The ego takes a jolt when true result is that

A lively world’s been going on

In the short while you’ve been isle borne.

 

When you take up, upon waking,

Cell phone, laptop out and working,

Think about your motive deep, some path new chosen.

Leap into the seasons, steeping self in new horizons.

Public profiles pass from sight, from mind, from heart

Once they depart.

 

Querying the motives that define,

I’m off to take out, open mine,

The whole controlling

‘Spite the knowing.

Vanity or not?

 Vanity Or What?  Or Not? 3.18.2018 Circling Round Vanities II; Circling Round Egos; A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Arlene Corwin

 

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