Tell Me What Your Life Is Like

15 Mar 2018 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in 2018, circling round egos, love relationships II Tags: ,

This, to all the friends I have who have children or who, in a broader sense are interested in beings, human and otherwise.

* I was thinking about my son and daughter – how little I know about them and their interior life. I thought about asking them sometime, then all the ramifications stepped in and my thoughts broadened, widened, became more inclusive. Hence, the poem.
         Tell Me What Your Life Is Like
Tell me what your life is like:
I’m serious.
I do so want to see
The commonalities, universalities
And differences.
Do they dissolve, resolve
One into t’other?
Are we sister, are we brother?
I suspect we are,
Observing daily layers that lie under.
So for me, the likes of me to bind this wonder.
Tell me what your likes are life:
Your tastes your talents,
Weaknesses, which out of balance
Throw you off.
Softening the lines that pull us sunder
Is the key, I think.
World’s great thinkers think so too;
Blurring lines ‘tween me and you
Necessity. Pink
Black, brown, yellow,
Every creature a good fellow.
Ant, snake, spider, ape included;
Whale, fish, cows and pigs un-fooded.
Well, there’s not much more to say.
So if you chance to pass my way
Tell me what your life is like.
I’d like that.
Tell Me What your Life Is Like 3.15.2018 Love Relationships II; Circling Round Egos; Arlene Corwin

 

The Great Lover

27 Jan 2018 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in 2018, circling round egos, circling round energy, circling round eros II, love relationships II Tags:

         The Great Lover

The great lover:

Quiet, yet beneath a furnace;

Passion without fuss.

The greatest plus!

How can one explain it?

Concentrated, in the moment,

Expectations nil, from self or other;

Blend of lover and of brother.

How can one describe it?

Mind not pushing, body rushing,

Or conversely,

Mind not rushing, body pushing.

Blend of observation and involvement;

Participation all the way,

One might say, creation;

Jazz improvisation, for,

What happens happens.

This great lover is creative,

Not dependent on a pattern,

Yet there is one –

Never monochrome but comfortable like home.

Reader, do you follow?

Do I reach you?

I’m not boasting out of vanity,

But out of joy.  Oh boy!

I’ve got him.

 The Great Lover 1.27.2018 Love Relationships II; Circling Round Eros II; Arlene Corwin

 

The Making Of Perfect Love

08 May 2017 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in 2017, circling round aging, circling round eros II, love relationships II, pure nakedness Tags:

     The Making Of Perfect Love

The sex is simple.

Though there’s pattern, never boring.

Feeling new, e’en better every time.

How can that be?

The years have passed the ‘sell by’ date,

And one knows couples who

Are either bored to death or hate

The touch, approach,

Who douche

Just to escape the loathing

(even some who wear their clothing

into bed).

 

But with us, we focus.

Simple, the affection real,

Start so gradual

It’s hardly recognizable as such.

As for the finish,

Since there never was a start,

It sometimes has no end,

Just petering from aged tiredness

With never a dissatisfaction,

Life and day continuing

In the most natural of ways.

 

The Making of Perfect Love 5.9.2017

Circling Round Eros II; Pure Nakedness, Circling Round Aging; Love Relationships II;

Arlene Corwin

Happy Birthday, Daddy Dear

15 Apr 2017 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in 2017, birthday book, love relationships II Tags:

   Happy Birthday, Daddy Dear

Happy birthday once again,

Daddy dear. April fifteen,

And you’re not here to share it

For you died so many years ago.

(the year before we reached two thousand).

But the fifteenth rolls around

And somehow sounds a chord inside me.

This year happens to be

Pesach, Easter;

Easy to remind myself.

You would have been one hundred nine –

Not unattainable

As age today.

But still you went celestially.

I hope you’re happy

As I wish you happy birthday anyway.

So with a happy memory,

I’ll say happy goodbye

And start

A hopeful, happy day.

 

Happy Birthday, Daddy Dear 4.15.2017

Birthday Book; Love Relationships II;

Arlene Corwin

Alice Is In Wonderland

25 Mar 2017 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in birth death & in between II, love relationships II Tags:

   Alice Is In Wonderland

Alice got sick.

A dulling fur – a cancer here and there.

Don’t know how, don’t know why,

(We never know how, why we’ll die).

Bad and sad for doggies

And for those who hold them dear.

The vet urged she be put to sleep –

It had gone far.

It went in seconds. Not a peep

From Alice, just one beat, a bleep

And she was gone;

A little soul taken in hand

By doggy heaven land, a wondrous land.

Alice is in Wonderland.

 

Alice Is In Wonderland 3.24.2017

Birth, Death & In Between II; Love Relationships II;

Arlene Corwin

The Cold Revised

24 Nov 2016 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in 2016, a sense of the ridiculous II, love relationships II Tags:

A prophet’s never known

Among her own –

Especially by one she’s wed to.

He’s abed.

He’s got a cold.

She’s got hold of techniques potent:

Pressure on those points oblique,

Baths and steam,

And as I speak,

Gone phlegmy pangs

And reams of snot

From sinuses and nose and throat.

Alas, alack, he’s stuck all stuffy, prone,

He and his cold,

Alone.

 

Words in the air

Don’t reach his ear

Or mind, and certainly not intellect.

He doesn’t want neglect

But can’t accept

The profit of the prophet.

So he coughs and sputters,

Spews and suffers.

She, not known

Among her own

No matter how ‘spot on’

The common Sense.

 

The Cold 11.15.2016

A Sense Of The Ridiculous; Love Relationships II;

Arlene Corwin

The Cold

16 Nov 2016 Leave a comment

by arlenecorwin in 2016, a sense of the ridiculous II, love relationships II Tags:

A prophet’s never known

Among her own –

Especially by one she’s wed to.

He’s abed.

He’s got a cold.

She’s got hold of techniques potent:

Pressure on those points oblique,

Baths and steam,

And as I speak,

Gone phlegmy pangs

And reams of snot

From sinuses and nose and throat.

Alas,

Alack,

He’s stuck

On sofa prone,

He and his cold,

Alone.

 

Words in the air

Don’t reach his ear

Or mind, and certainly not intellect.

He doesn’t want neglect

But can’t accept

The profit of the prophet.

So he coughs and sputters,

Spews and suffers.

She, not known

Among her own

No matter how ‘spot on’ the common

Sense

 

The Cold 11.15.2016

A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Love Relationships II;

Arlene Corwin

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