An End To Everything

An End To Everything #1📆
Driving in the car,
Looking at the trees,
Sparser leaves, October colors,
Tree trunks near the one, the other;
Well defined, the birch and pine
The thing divine, and yet, and yet
One sees an end,
Witness to the mute sensation
That we know leads to
Regeneration, restoration,
Transitory incarnation.
Gloom, a little sense of doom,
But only in my world of thought.
The trees, the birds, the bees brought back
To meet the day
In some sweet way
As in the year before.
An end may be a mere changeover;
Trees and bees and glad pink clover
Clearer, nearer
Than appearance.
Hence a choice that is no choice
But ‘must’
Based on a trust
That is unseeable:
A viewpoint more agreeable.
There is an end to everything.
Yet yearly eyes send hope
That winter springs to life,
Brings life and energy and animation
To every atom of creation.
End an end: the oxymoron* of all time.
oxymoron | ˌɒksɪˈmɔːrɒn | noun
a figure of speech in which apparently contradictory terms appear in conjunction (e.g. faith unfaithful kept him falsely true).
An End To Everything #2 next day📆
I had forgotten that I’d written a #1. Who knows, perhaps it’s better.
Driving in the car again,
Passing, looking at the trees,
Thinking ‘temporaries’.
Autumn colors, sparser leaves,
Profiles of the tree trunks clearer,
Nearer, further from each another
Than they looked when seen before.
Now defined the birch and pine,
The sight divine to me.
Then comes philosophy:
Suddenly, reflectively one sees an end.
A little gloom, a little doom
(but only in my world of thought).
My mental room sees all those trees
As coming to an end. Then mind
Sends out a message
To the other mind Arlene:
They will revive.
Simple as that!
Spring will bring tree and green leaf back.
Hope springs eternal,
And the kernel of both gloom and doom
Recedes to come another day.
In the meantime mind doth play
The living game,
Acting, thinking all the same
As when before
it/I was in the car
Going for a drive.
An End to Everything10.22.2018/10.23.2018 Birth, Death & In Between III; Circling Round Time III; Arlene Nover Corwin

Approaching Eighty-Four

Approaching Eighty-Four🌈🧘‍♀️🎹🎙

I’ve done this before:
Approached an age ending in -four,
Each ode not odious, just curious.
We try again, thinking a-fresh,
Looking back perhaps, or not at all,
Each day too precious to make small
By wasting time
Or spending energy so prime
One can’t afford to lose a moment.

So, the four shall represent a forward;
Optimistic, filled with power
For and in the precious hour;
Looking pretty
For each meeting –
Why the devil not? One’s got
A draw full of cosmetics –
Why not use them up,
Take priorities inborn,
Sworn in by gene-filled gifts and such,
And stay in touch.
“Know yourself” says Socrates.
“Please yourself”, says Corwin.
Integrating both, the tightest squeeze
Can be a breeze, can save your skin,
Transform a sin to virtue.

So, this eighty-four
Will use the talents and affections,
Making use of recollections and reflections
For a future
Filled with skilled and skilful, single-minded concentrations.

Approaching Eighty-Four 8.28.2018 Birthday Book; Birth, Death & In Between III; Pure Nakedness II; Circling Round Aging; Circling Round Energy; Circling Round Time II; I Is Always You Is We; Lessons To Be Learned; Nature Of & In Reality, Arlene Nover Corwin

Going Into Two Eighteen

HAPPY NEW YEAR!  Remember, time is not of the essence – you are!

       Going Into Two Eighteen


Whether you say two eighteen,

Two thousand eighteen,

Twenty eighteen,

It’s of little consequence.

Change is coming three days hence.

Are you looking forward, backward?

Being in the constant now?


Eighteen is a lovely number, don’t you think?

On the brink… full of promise

That the best is coming to us!

Lowbrow maybe, but my now.

Peasant-like or fluffy, but,

A thoughtful possibility

That makes me happy and serene,

Looking forward to a two eighteen

A new but evergreen Arlene.

Going Into Two Eighteen 12.29.2017 Circling Round Time II; Arlene Corwin



Our Tractor Man

Our tractor man is doing

What he really likes to do:

Clearing snow.

He suits my mental man-with-plow.

Trading pig and cow

For gear he likes to sit inside;

The tractor hut;

Tranquil woods to clear and saw,

Chop and cut;

Tractor wheel, forest smell,

Alone deciding what to fell.

Muddy potholes in the spring,

Flood and crud his tractor´s thing.

Nicely chubby,

Slightly tubby;

Sixty odd,

His tractor and the woods his God.


I esteem this earthy man

Dharma bound to seasoned stars

That fix the farmer life and plan

Unchangeable and stable.

Our Tractor Man passed away 2016.

Our Tractor Man 3.4.2003 (revised 11.19.2016)

Circling Round Nature; Circling Round Time; Special People, Special Occasions; Birth. Death & In Between II;

Arlene Corwin





Older By The Minute

In print,

In ink,

In body’s wrinkle

Every atom – infinite in movement,

Older by the minute but for dogged re-arrangement,

Fortune’s plight and luck indefinite.


What then, then what?

Some permanence within,

In atoms’ never ending movement?

Some emergent state

To start the thing all over;

Aging once again, but to initiate

Each minute-varied-minute?

Pin your hopes on it.

Monarchs, minions

And some other millions



Older By The Minute 11.8.2015/revised 9.7.2016

Circling Round Aging; Birth, Death & In Between II; Circling Round Time II; Circling Round Reality;

Arlene Corwin



Me Against Them (having looked in the mirror watching the wrinkles wrinkle)


It’s me against them:

The muscles, the ligaments, cartilage, skeleton;

Sometimes a treaty, sometimes at war,

Passive and neutral, blasé, a watcher: overlord


All I can do is to keep the war going, battling on;

All that I can; a work to be done.

All that I ask and a plus and a task.


I have defenses:

If I sit too long,

The muscles, the ligaments, cartilage, bone

Enjoin me to get off my bum

And remember it’s me against them:

Two weapons:

Zeal and will.

For it I sit too still,

The muscles, the ligaments, cartilage, bone

Tell me, “War done, you’ve not won,

And that’s that”!


The muscles, the ligaments, cartilage, skeleton;

Entente or at war,

Always the watcher, their overlord Time.

Day long,

Will strong,

Choices endless,

To-do lists in endlessness too.


Me against them – chumps /victims of time:

Karma and nature, destiny, deity;

All time companions,

The war carries on:

Muscles, the ligaments, cartilage, skeleton

Fading but fighting

to function.


Me Against Them 4.4.2016

War Book II ; Circling Round Aging; Circling Round Time II;

Arlene Corwin



Time Isn’t


It’s – and I don’t like to ply the word –

A non-existent; nothing but

A construct

To describe and not define

Growth and decay,

The born, the dying.

It’s – a

‘Now you see it, now you don’t’,

‘Now it’s here and now it’s not

Time the tag

Of laws, of change.

Time the badge.

Time the label

Giving names to light years, birthdays…

Every whatsit measured by an age.

As something Time is not.


Time Isn’t 10.23.2015

Revelations Big & Small; Circling Round Time II; Circling Round Reality; Nature of & In Reality;

Arlene Corwin



One Day Closer


It’s always one day closer

To an end, yours most importantly:

It ‘s that that counts

As days mount up inexorably.

Soon- or later, the debates are

What you do with time – your time: the in-between,

And what is worthy on this earthly sojourn?

I have answers.

There are answers: wo/man/swers!

Don’t waste a day,


But face it, for each second

Is one second closer…


One Day Closer 8.8.2015

Birth, Death & In Between II; Circling Round Aging; Circling Round Time II; Circling Round Reality;

Arlene Corwin

One Hour Back 10.26.2014

One Hour Back


The hour’s gone back.

We’ve gained some sleep.

We haven’t gained a longer life,

We’ve simply traded spring for fall,

Accepted shorter days,

Less light,

The longer night;

Traded lettuce for beetroot,

Every other winter root;

Traded tanned for paler skin,

The shoe for boot,

More layers on,

The hour’s gone back to nature’s time,

A test

To make the best of life

As always.


One Hour Back 10.26.2014

Circling Round Nature II; Circling Round Time II;

Arlene Corwin



Eighty Is Too Young To Die 7.12.2014

Eighty Is Too Young To Die


Eighty is too young to die.

Ninety too.

There’s no

Good time to die, you

Must agree.

(The young can never visualize

the size

of ever).



Eighty Is Too Young To Die 7.12.2014

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

Arlene Corwin



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