Dancing In The Bed

Dancing In The Bed


It’s 8:15 a.m. I’m still

Asleep when you come in the room.

The radio’s been on since five.

You modestly and unassumingly

Creep in. I slowly come alive.

My neck is slightly sore, the symptom

Of a migraine. You massage it.

Then because the body needs it

And you’re sensitive, your fragrant hand,

Like a corsage, begins to find,

Explore my spine.

There’s music in the background and,

Before we know it, there we are

Moving, dancing in the bed.

Lovely and exciting rhythms

Form our future memoir.

Up and down, the rose bedspread

Awry, we minuet and smile,

Closely dancing all the while.

And, oh, how we enjoy the time

Willingly exploited, using

Hands and even feet to prime

The other’s total health, the boozing,

Bruising done by others non-existent.

How we’ve laughed! Now I’m awake.

I feel like a griddlecake.

Or eggs and steak?

The dance in bed not inconsistent

With the need to eat,

The music’s beat

Now slow, now fast, the background broadcast

Perfect prologue to a breakfast.


Dancing In The Bed 5.5.1996

Love Relationships; Circling Round Eros;

Arlene Corwin



Everyone’s Titties

Everyone’s Titties


Everyone’s titties are mammary glands,

The glamour of mammary glands

Being temporal –

Nothing to get excited about.

Mommies and mammories –

That’s their significance.

Men who desire

The chest bone attire,

Who somehow or other

Are drawn to an udder

Whose breast-iny

After an age is to flop

Or to drop –

Well, let’s say perception at best,

Is projection,

And leave it at that.


Everyone’s Titties 6.16.2010

A Sense Of The Ridiculous; Circling Round Woman; Circling Round Eros;

Arlene Corwin

2012 in review Arlene Corwin Poetry have-a-look

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The new Boeing 787 Dreamliner can carry about 250 passengers. This blog was viewed about 1,500 times in 2012. If it were a Dreamliner, it would take about 6 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

Afternoon Seduction (from Circling Round Eros + 2 out in September 2012

Afternoon Seduction

(A Romance for the over-seventies)

He lies there on the June warm porch,

A kidney stone somewhere inside him.

She beside him, background birches blow.

He’s wearing shorts.  They’re joking

About something vague

While birds prepare for evening’s shade.

She concentrates on some long hair within his brow

That’s growing north,

While all the others, white and coarse,

Go east.

The beast is wakened.

Open porch – a lake:

He takes her.

When the sofa proves too hard

He takes her –

Upstairs, on a bed,

Dropping what small clothes they wear

Behind them on the stair:

A 40’s film. The ante-room.

Passion’s perfume.

If that’s not frenzy,

What is, then?

Afternoon Seduction 6.10.2006

Love Relationships; Pure Nakedness; Circling Round Eros;

Arlene Corwin

Loving Movements 2012

Loving Movements



One part no more played around with

Or erotic, more accentuated

than the rest

With radio left on,

The concentration left to shift

Now and again

Which makes the whole unthreatening,

Not separated

From the chain of nature;

Caring, sweetening –

He knows the secrets

Deep within his quiet, patient soul.

Where did he learn them?


Loving Movements 4.2.2012

Circling Round Eros;

Arlene Corwin



Always Nice To Couple 2012

Always Nice To Couple


It’s always nice to couple

On a birthday:

Easy going, slow to fire,

Maybe yes, maybe no.

Unsure and slow

With privileges undiscovered

By the young:

The privilege of backing down,

Breaking off.

The privilege of heeding

Intuition’s guide,

Needing nothing, really –

Knowing that no one will feel insulted

If the one or other stops;

And knowing

That the unexpected

Suddenly can ‘pop’,

The best cork

Of the best champagne


The laws of love and candor


Happy Birthday!


Always Nice To Couple 2.8.2012

Circling Round Eros; Birthday Book;

Arlene Corwin



Writing A Poem About Sex 2011

Writing A Poem About Sex

No paper around,

But round and empty spool at hand

(a cardboard spool for paper towels)

A ballpoint pen to fool around with – and with sudden

Thought, I reach the ballpoint at my right

And write a poem called Sunday Sex

With words like tantra, screw, and Kama sutra;

Supple, glad:  A poem is made!

But where to place it in my files:

Eros?  Nature? The Creative?

Love? Perhaps.

Computers, baths or vanities,

Absolutely not!

This Sunday sex, exquisite sex,

Pre-requisite to breakfast

Has to have the perfect placements;

One or many, it will stick out

In more books than you

Can shake a stick at.

Tantric dancing slow and quick,

Mixing techniques, loving tricks.

Brighter wick cannot be found

To pick one up a-Sunday.

Writing A Poem About Sex 5.8.2011

Circling Round Eros; A Sense Of The Ridiculous; Love Relationships;

Arlene Corwin

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