We Die When We’re Supposed To

On my way to teaching my lovely yoga class this paradoxical poem:✍️🤔🧘‍♀️
       We Die When We’re Supposed To
 
We die when we’re supposed to,
Karma chained in cause/effect.
One eve I lay there,
Sorry, sad and full of fear
When of a sudden, shocked, aware,
The snare of truth, as clear as day,
Told me that we pass away
From causes self-created
From our characters, our choices,
Gene pushed, situation fated…
 
You know, when you get these flashes,
(call them insights, revelations, mind disclosures)
You can sense veracity’s exposures crashing in
And you’ve no choice
But to believe
What mind and thought receive,
In this case this:
Death comes when it will,
And it is up
To us to give this hidden ‘reasoning’ a whirl
And take the pill
However bad the taste.
 
We Die When We’re Supposed To 9.18.2012/8.16.2018 Birth, Death & In Between II/III; Arlene Nover Corwin
 

A Sense Of The Ridiculeye

     

       A Sense Of The Ridiculeye

 If I should die

Before the chance to finalize

My opii or opus-eye,

I’d like my friends and family

To help my un-computerized beloved Kent

To contact-wise or otherwise

Contact well meant

Computor pals,

Informing them of my demise,

As I have been so many times,

Pushed ahead by good advice.

I’d like to share my destiny

With those out there who ‘followed’ me.

But time’s not up,

And I still drink from heaven’s cup,

Statistics in my favor,

Savoring each mobile action.

A Sense Of The Riduleye 5.17.2018 Birth, Death & In Between II; Circling Round Computers; Arlene Nover Corwin

 

 

 

 

Death Is Always On My Mind

(Watching the oncoming hurricane Maria. The 2nd in two weeks – same place) 

        Death Is Always In My Mind

Death is always on my mind

In one way or another.

Lying there sneakily,

Shaking me

When something happens on TV.

All around a violence:

In the weather, in the city,

In our children, in the poverty:

Calamity.

How to stay calm lamb myself;

A question half my brain

is taken up with.

 

Hurricanes, shoulder pains,

Underlying wonderings.

Questions without answers;

Wishes not yet answered.

 

And the time!

Always the passing

Without chance of stopping;

In the stars, the planets;

In the ants & stones & plants.

Yet a cup of coffee

And the world is right.

All the worries of the night

Transformed,

And energy to right my life –

If not the world –

Uncurled –

Thus one goes forward.

 

Death Is Always On My Mind 9.19.2017

Pure Nakedness; Nature Of & In Reality; Our Times, Our Culture II; Birth, Death & In Between II:

Arlene Corwin

 

A Body Winds Down

         A Body Winds Down

A body winding down –

Its signs a preparation:

Loss of appetite, sound sleep at night;

Strength in arm and grip,

Youthful movement in the hip;

Fifty small, small things of note –

To note, denote, remote

As they may be.

 

Beginning early, barely showing:

Gone or worn, the bite uneven,

Pearly whites no longer pearly;

Vocal cords and tongue or throat

Cracked, coated…

Body borne from infancy,

Winding down.

 

There it is, the fact of it.

Can you take

The tact of it?

(Or tactlessness –

The zero chance to make

It over?)

Living’s always closing in on kith and kin –

On all and every who can’t win,

The numbers passing by

Each day receding into destiny.

A Body Winds Down 9.14.2017

Circling Round Aging; Birth, Death & In Between II; Circling Round Wrinkles;

Arlene Corwin

It Was A Sunny Day Today

 

 

 

Seventy & Eight

Seventy and eight:

You’ve set aside some vanity.

What was it but priority?

And some priorities have changed.

Acceptance of some disappearance;

Change of balance, skin that’s run the distance,

Re-arrangement of the substances inherent –

or you thought..

 

When you’re nearing birthdays

Each and every twelfth damned month,

You shun

The cant if you’re observant.

‘Happy Birthday’ not so plain.

This has that… and that’s a pain.

Marriages have come and gone,

You’ve eaten everything on offer.

Gone the need to empty coffer entertaining.

 

Suffering more neutralized;

So many friends and kin have died.

You’ve channeled drives

That used to thrive on pleasure.

 

With a birthday coming up

You’re going down each second’s unit

So immeasurably tiny you can’t count it.

 

Here is where it gets didactic:

Birthdays coming up – don’t hope but have it.

As for vanity, retract it.

That’s it.

 

Seventy & Eight 10.28.2012/revised 8.27.2017

Birthday Book; Circling Round Vanities II; Birth, Death & In Between II;

Arlene Corwin

Who Wouldn’t Want To Be Remembered?

Who wouldn’t mind being remembered?

It’s not the same as wanting fame –

Naiveté’s vanity its other name.

 

Who wouldn’t mind some impact?

An itch to reach out

Maybe teach, knowing one knows so little –

Naught at all – We are so small.

 

But art is there,

And impulse wants from within wants out,

Shouts quietly with word

When you yourself have disappeared.

 

Who Wouldn’t Mind Being Remembered? 8.16.2017

Birth, Death & In Between II;

Arlene Corwin

 

Sitting In My Own Light (one more funeral)

Sitting In My Own Light

  (one more funeral)

 

Sitting in my own light,

Senses alert.

Eyes see, ears hear –

Most of all, the brain is clear,

Emotions still.

Still one more funeral –

Or three or four,

Waiting for those bells to toll.

 

Sitting In My Own Light 7.27.2017

Birth, Death & In Between II;

Arlene Corwin

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