I Cook For My Husband #2 (shaved & scissored)

     I Cook For My Husband #2 (shaved & scissored)

 

I cook for my husband

The way I would cook for a king.

And I’d cook for the king

(If ever he’d ring)

The way I cook for my husband.

With skill, choice and taste of the day,

What e’er’s in the cupboard to make a buffet

Fit for a king or my husband.

No problem or trouble,

Food is a bubble

Lasting an hour from mouthful to bowel.

If house guest should scowl or glower or frown,

Finding it uphill to get the food down,

I take it serenely,

Comport myself queenly,

Tell him or her

The next meal will be better,

It’s fine to leave morsels of food on the plate

And leave it at that,

It being one method to never get fat.

 

I Cook For My Husband #2 7.27.2017

Definitely Didactic; I Is Always You Is We;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

Making Waffles In The Living Room

Making Waffles In The Living Room

(a day in the life of an eccentric*)

 

With no one home to say a thing,

She lives out her free spirit.

Not a misfit,

Simply unconventional.

 

She’s making waffles,

But she wants to watch TV –

A favorite program on on Sunday.

Which will take priority?

Must one take priority?

Why not do them simultaneously.

 

She grabs a stool

And drags it to the living room.

Step one.

Carrying the still cold iron

Without fear of burn, she sets it

On the stool and plugs the iron in.

Old appliance it goes on,

No On Off switch therein.

Step two.

Bearing bowl brim-filled with batter,

Setting it on stool where it

fits snugly in and on its step,

Spoon in hand she spoons the batter

Onto iron piping hot;

Shuts the top and starts to wait.

One, two, three and on to plate,

All while watching TV’s favorite!

What subject for a poem!

Happy that there’s no one home

to say a thing.

Fifteen waffles later,

Piled high and fully sated,

Iron back in place

Not a drop or drip to waste

And no one is the wiser.

 

*from the Greek ekkentros, from ‘ek ‘out of’ + kentron ‘center’.

 

Making Waffles In The Living Room 3.19.2017

A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; I Is Always You Is We;

Arlene Corwin

 

Do You Feel Loved?

         Do You Feel Loved?

 

It may be the essential – feeling loved:

The need that breeds endeavor.

Genes count, nature/nurture too,

Of course they do.

But you?

How are you shaped on other fronts?

On every inner front that counts?

 

Upward-striving, brave, risk-taking?

Anti- any thought of faking?

Thin-skinned, concrete or faith based?

Seeing all as interfaced?

 

There is no shield to life or love,

Each quality a chance, an option;

Course of action,

Possibility if let.

 

Meeting, greeting all you get,

And every action a solution;

Taking love, rebuff – it all,

Direction never faltering.

 

In each action there exists

A universe of rules to choose from.

You suffused with

Feelings of

Concern and tenderness and feeling love(d).

 

Do You Feel Loved? 9.3.2016

I Is Always You Is We;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

Charting The Changes (Once Again)

 

How can I leave them?

I have eyes, the body, brain;

These changes subtle and not so… going on,

And I a part.

The sex: it never leaves.

You watch the nuance – age regardless.

Muscle, limbs, all inners shifting;

Dangers one could ne’er imagine

Years before –

And there they are,

Daily dominators from within

And from without,

Pushing, shoving, tugging

Quiet, noisy, brash and smug.

Dangers one would – if one could –

Convert to chance both sound and likely;

At the center of it all: you, I and we,

The question being, how to cope with,

Deal with it undisturbed; philosophic, unperturbed,

Optimistic, cool, detached,

Present-living, hatching new ideas

From day to day as if it’s play,

The way presenting self on impulse, off-the-cuff

And you obeying

Soundlessly in laughter.

 

Charting The Changes (Once Again) 8.7.2016

I Is Always You Is We;

Arlene Corwin

 

Resisting Classification

 

My genre is a what?

Poetry?

It has rhyme and meter.

Philosophy?

It has theory.

Prose?

It may be none of those,

But on occasion

A good story, mystery, history,

Memoir, auto- or biography

And drama

Speech inherent, sound the theatre?

 

When they ask, “What is your genre?”

Would you prefer

To not explain, give titles,

Put your writing in a box?

I say we ought to all out-fox the ‘them’

Unfreeze the locks that lock us in,

Call out, “I, genre-free

Will not be classified

Because I’m me,

Not formless or chaotic,

Stumbler or neurotic,

Not a power-mad would-be despotic,

But a me whose temperament

And character and talent

Take what comes in and in that moment

Uses it artistically

Whatever ‘it’ may be.

 

I am above this sort of sorting –

I de-grade this kind of grading;

I find ranking rank,

The pigeonholing full of holes.

Classifying may comprise,

Consist of compromised convenience –

Just not for me.

 

Resisting Classification 7.10.2016

The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; I Is Always You Is We;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

To Never [Not] Be Great

To Never [Not] Be Great

 

I’ll never be great,

But keep going

In the roles that I was born to

‘Cause you never know…

 

Inside myself it feels like genius

When on days that I feel, well,

I don’t know how to say it

Without sounding like Narcissus,

But on days I feel I can…

And am my own

Pers-own-

al genus, if not genius;

Ridiculous as it may sound,

Numinous and luminous.

 

For others who believe that they cannot be great,

Will never be,

I say that they

Must never break if off

Before the bulb that has a seeming stillness

Has redeemed its dreaming stillness

To produce its daffodil.

 

To Never [Not] Be Great 4.16.2016

I Is Always You Is We; Pure Nakedness;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

My I Is Always You

 

I have no secrets,

Every here revealed in each under-text

For you to find, identify

And see yourself in.

They are signals – call them semaphores.

Your world may not be mine,

Yet all the same, my mine is you

Though your existence is your own.

 

My I Is Always You (started) 11.26.2014(finished 10.31.2015)

I Is Always You Is We;

Arlene Corwin

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