November 8th, 2016


     November 8th, 2016


November eight; election date;

New president, old Arlene Faith

Who, on that date, doth celebrate

29,930 days, 718,320 hours since birth:

A non-elected eighty-two.

Who wants to vote for 82 or -3 or -4,

And doesn’t want to ask for more,

Four more…and more?

For nothing’s better

Than the pancake batter

That is life & breath & health & strength,

And solving unsolved human wrath:

Wars, filth, child-death with all

That forms the aftermath.

And where and what is soul and truth!


It must be synchronicity

That Trump and Hilary

(chump/champ) compete

The day old grumpy me

Heads into grumpy eighty-three,

Hurling memories unpleasant

Into green and pleasant pastures,

Saying anything that pleases

With the breezy ease of Sophocles,

Eighty-two can’t be all bad.


Eight, November: situations:

(Discord outside, inside nations)

Eight, November, compensations.


Are there ever real changes,

Or just temporary re-arrangements –

Everything no more than fad?


November 8th, 2016 10.2.2016

A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Our Times, Our Culture II; Birth, Death &n Between II: Birthday Book II

Arlene Corwin



Albert Cat’s Fifth Birthday


When the stunning long-day Swedish light

Is such and such

And I don’t want to leave the porch,

Don’t feel much like writing.

I abduct myself,

Grab A4 paper off the shelf

To write some trite-ish anything,

This very Friday being

Albert Cats fifth birthday

Which we try not to forget each May

With couplets

Or a varied version of,

To not forget

how old he is,

And partly to pronounce our love.

(a kitty-kitschy way to dote, one must admit).

Red-furred, a coat of note,

Unusually pretty, [he is]

Witty in a cat-ish way.

(Which takes some reading into)

For although he doesn’t care a bit,

We celebrate, devoting every fifth of May to

Albert’s felin-inity in birthday card format.

Happy Birthday little Albert!


Albert Cat’s Fifth Birthday 5.6.2016

Birthday Book; Cat Book II;

Arlene Corwin

Happy Birthday, Emma 2.18.2015




Happy Birthday, Emma


Looking at the birthday greetings on your site,

Nothing I could say compared with that:

The messages, the pictures, loving warm.

All I could contribute was a crumb;

A poem.

We missed your party.


Missed your Kenny;


Party things: food and cheer.

All that I can say is,

Bless this year!

And bring your Kenny here

To munch

On lunch

When sky is bluer,

You are


Til then we

Hold you dear,

Love you to bits!

Well, that’s completely it –

For now.


Happy Birthday Emma 2.18.2015

Birthday Book; Special People, Special Occasions;

Arlene Corwin








We Were Children Yesterday 8.31.2014

We Were Children Yesterday

We were children yesterday.
Today death – mongrel scoundrel –
I can’t rid myself
Of parallel, phantasmagorical illusions,
Their wind winding ‘round,
Entwining every segment, every episode
Of life. Meetings with man, woman, child
Depleting brain or greeting brain
(whichever you prefer) with
“Death is always near, you hear?”
And nothing you can do can steer it”
Meters, miles of babies born, and Rita,
Eighty-two today,
Was my dear playmate yesterday.
So in conclusion… There is none.

We Were Children Yesterday 8.31.2014
Birth, Death & In Between II; Birthday Book;
Arlene Corwin

Why Am I Rushing It? 9.3.2014

Why Am I Rushing It?

With two months left,
Why am I rushing it?
Not yet the eighth decade.
It is a low-grade vanity
To rush the thing.
Who am I kidding?
Just exactly where one is
Is just exactly where one’s meant to be.
As of this moment
I am seventy-nine,
Nine months,
Three days
Eleven hours.
At computer,
Typing merrily away.

Why Am I Rushing It? 9.3.2014
Birth, Death & I Between II; Circling Round Vanities II;Birthday Book;
Arlene Corwin

Turning Eighty 8.31.2014

Turning Eighty

Unaccustomed to the use of eight,
Unpracticed, I await the change,
Seven gone forever.
Bewildered by this new arrangement
And digit new;
A metaphor,
The dying closer.

No one will be as interested as I –
Why should they? It’s my day,
The only day I ever will turn eighty.
Decades on a planet that’s
Had wars, near meltdowns,
Walls, floods, typhoons,
Fortune for a few,
Misfortune for the many.

Numbers hide the soul inside,
But eighty’s pretty high,
So I’ve a plan.
I’ll celebrate all year
Then wait – a patient one –
For eight to turn to nine
And write about it then.

Turning Eighty 8.31.2014
Birthday Book; Birth, Death & In Between II; Nature Of & In Reality;Circling Round Time II;
Arlene Corwin

A Birthday Letter In Bad Rhyme & Bad Meter 6.10.2014

A Birthday Letter To You in Bad Rhyme And Bad Meter


Dear dear Otto,

It’s near impossible

To think of anything original

Without using motto, manifesto

Or cliché –


If and when you come one day

When we can celebrate together –

Rich gateau and lathers

Of whipped cream

(I dream

Of lathers of whipped cream),

We’ll wish you all the best,

The healthiest

Of days

And years.


(Doesn’t the change from -4 to -5 seem strange?

Wait till you get

To eight-


And you’ll see.




With much love,

Arlene & Kent

June 10, 2014


A Birthday Letter To You In Bad Rhyme & Bad Meter 6.10.2014

Birthday Book;

Arlene Corwin





Four Years Old Today 2014

Four Years Old Today


Four years old,

And you deserve a card,

A poem,

A cat-ty ode

To celebrate

That you’re a cat

And we appreciate



We are so happy




And give us

So much pleasure.

Let us pour out

Smiles of blessings,

Miles of blessings

From the heart.

Happy Birthday Albert!


Four Years Old Today 5.6.2014

Birthday Book; Cat Book II;

Arlene Corwin



Never Old 2014

Never Old


This is not old stuff.

There can never be enough declaring:




To a birthday in

A non-

Birthday card style.


The cards say yearly, “happy birthday”!


Just a bit.

Of course I want you to be happy.

But there’s more to it


Happy New Year, Happy Christmas…happy, happy…

Just a little



One would wish the most preeminent, illustrious for you:

An all-inclusive lexicon of jubilation:

Words and miracles on your behalf.

All one can do is fall back on the old cliché:


Cause to get all daft

And un-evolved,

You are prized and cherished

And much loved!


Never Old 2.8.2014

Birthday Book; Love Relationships II;

Arlene Corwin





Too Old To Be Self-Conscious(revised/refined/re-worked)

    Too Old To Be Self-Conscious


There is no subject that cannot

Be kicked around

Or talked about;

No theme so ‘sacred’ it must be avoided.

No age when you cannot have passion,

No age when you’re not allowed

To be yourself:

The same in every


When you can’t become a newcomer

To themes that make you joyful,

Things that make you tingle;

There is certainly no age

When you may not be entertaining:

Giggly, extroverted, corny, plainly silly – and a fool.

No age when you must discontinue demonstrating, sharing

What you’ve learned and known;

No age too late to come into your own,

Be known for what you’ve done and do.

If it is not your birthday,

Happy anyday* to you.


*(written for a friend whose birthday it was).



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