World On Fire

I watch and read and, and and…shocked and horrified and helpless.
World On Fire🤔✍️🌋🏜️🏝️
 
Utterly apocryphal, inconceivable.
Everything you’ve ever read
In scripture this and scripture that –
Logicality with unbelievability at its side.
Available to men and women who have understood
The chains of time.
(Think of anytime you’ve ever had an aha moment,
Revelation).
These were ever-lations.
 
Anyway, in simple language
One can only say,
The chain of progress
Is a process of antitheses:
The obverse and the inverse
Of reality, all or any..
 
Now a world with too much rain
And floods therefrom
Has droughts and fires,
Facts and liars
All around the globe.
 
As usual one sees TV,
Its eyeballed views, the daily news,
Ruination, misadventure instantaneous to us.
Catastrophe pluralis.
I’m tired of lists and their statistics.
You know, friend and reader you,
There’s absolutely nothing new.
 
I’m almost geared up and prepared.
But almost is but host to finish.
Goal still niched, unreached but there.
 
In the meantime, there are places where
You’d ne’er dare visit
‘Cause the world’s on fire –
Is it?
Almost.
World On Fire 7.18.2018 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Nover Corwin

The Whole Of Sweden’s Wearing Beards

Can’t help it. I see what I see!✍️
 
The Whole Of Sweden’s Wearing Beards
 
The whole of Sweden wears a beard.
Dare I say weird?
To go around all day un-sheared!
That, combined with bods tattooed:
Chest, breast, throat
And not a centimeter nude
(As made in God’s good world).
I am confused.
A new prosthetic? Possibly.
Aesthetic? Frequently.
A thing to lean upon,
Confirm an ego and/or vanity
That ought to go,
But no, it can’t,
The tattoo being permanent!
Beards! What are they there for?
To hide the origin of doubled chin – one just beginning?
Arctic winter?
Saving shaving?
What’s it for?
Why would one want one hair more!
 
I wouldn’t want to kiss a beard:
Whirly, curly,
Itchy, scratchy…
None a match for girlie me.
They’re dominating TV;
Interviewers, program leaders.
All I want are clean-cut readers.
 
One day someone just appeared
And pioneered a new grown beard.
A new veneer
Had filled the sphere: a fad was born;
The bearded fashion was in action.
 
I am waiting till it passes,
And the fashion turns to glasses
Or an emphases on ar___s.
Who can say?
 
The Whole Of Sweden’s Wearing Beards 6.17.2018 A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Our Times, Our Culture II; Swedish Book; Arlene Nover Corwin
 
 
 
 
 
 

Hot, Hot, Hot

               Hot, Hot, Hot

Whenever I have naught to say

I write about the weather.

It’s a good old English way

To say whatever’s

Easiest to pass the time,

The personal not being prime.

Yet here I sit, sunny comfy

Admiring the blue of sky,

The marvel of a lake whose look

Can take the breath away:

White, yellow water lily scattered willy-nilly

By some law of nature I will never fathom.

Row- and motorboats parked here and there

Far and near, on shores and little docks ad hoc.

Cirrus clouds are forming

Storming many hundred meters high.

And yet the sky, still blue looks still, yes, tranquil.

But I’ve moved from chair to capture

All in nature so enrapturing these eyes:

The butterflies, the dragonflies, the bees and flies,

Gnats, ants and ticks.

But I digress, for there are ducks to watch, nothing to fix –

(except, perhaps those nasty ticks).

This life as perfect as God made it,

Sun and cloud and shade quite perfect

Though the day is hot as hell.

I welcome every bit of it.

Hot, Hot, Hot 6.9.2018 Circling Round Nature II; Our Times, Our Culture II; Swedish Book;; Arlene Nover Corwin

The Hottest May On Record

Hot off the press!
The Hottest May On Record🤔

I write about the land I live in
Just because I live there and the land’s at hand.
A land forgiven,
For in heaps of, hopeful ways it’s grand.

The hottest May most every day
Since records started to be written, and
A button on the past,
It points to profits oft’ ill-gotten
In a world of greed, technology: half-rotten.

All the harmful tendencies in man
Brought forth, the times and growing population
On their prideful side.

Oh, I hate to be a just one more harbinger
Of god-knows-what:
Plagues and wars and everything that
Brings disaster.
All this from the weather
And this hottest May on record
Within
Little Sweden.

The Hottest May On Record 5.30.2018 Swedish Book; Nature Of & In Reality; Our Times, Our Culture II;Arlene Nover Corwin

Sing Your Song All Wrong As Long As It Feels Right

Wrote this this morning after I’d seen a Swedish singing star interviewed with torn, torn jeans talking about how he came to be no longer nervous when performing.

Sing Your Song All Wrong As Long As It Feels Right

 (a prose poem  – meter but no rhyme – well, a little)

 

I used to be invisibly controlled by rules,

Sometimes blamed on pressures peer:

Perhaps I am still, will be ever.

Rules inhibit, yea, dear reader,

Leading art and your behavior.

Double whammy*, inspiration, guide and model

When you would most like to feel

Creative, and spontaneous,

Well pleased, extemporaneous.

 

Subtle, so immensely, so intensely so;

Astonishing how much one swallows,

Soaking up, believing garbage as god’s truths

So hard to scrap;

All those rules coming from the praxis of the earthliest of mouths.

 

What is it sought beyond all else?

It’s freedom, spontaneity,

Belief that what you’re doing

Is its own confession, own possession;

Valid as the others

Always followed and believed the best.

 

Now I’m older.

Times have altered.

Folk appear on television with torn jeans.

Fashions once thought awful – trends.

In the end,

The young will always be impacted by

‘The others’ they think templates,

Patterns, blueprints, guides.

I have seen the light.

Sing your song all wrong as long as it feels right.

 

Sing Your Song All Wrong 4.21.2018 Vaguely About Music II; Our Times, Our Culture II; I Is Always You Is We; Definitely Didactic; Arlene Corwin

whammy |ˈ(h)wamē|

noun ( pl. -mies) informal

an event with a powerful and unpleasant effect; a blow : the third whammy was the degradation of the financial system. See also double whammy .

an evil or unlucky influence : I’ve come to put the whammy on them.

ORIGIN 1940s: from the noun wham + -y 1 ; associated from the 1950s with the comic strip Li’l Abner, in which the hillbilly Evil-Eye Fleagle could “shoot a whammy” (put a curse on somebody) by pointing a finger with one eye open, and a [double whammy] with both eyes open.

I Like Facebook

Sitting in the bath once again, small blue pad in hand, bit of plastic as support, I write this poem.   Albert Cat demands a bit of attention and pad slides into the water.  I grab a bit of toilet paper to blot it.  That makes it worse.  So, blurred and vague, I reconstruct it, using magnifying glasses (2!) while watching the evening news.  Here it is:

             I Like Facebook

I like Facebook. I don’t know exactly why.

I like looking at the pictures,

Friends I’d never meet another way.

I like friendly messages,

Passages of verse I’d never read

If not for Facebook’s lead.

I like Likes and Comments kind,

Find in comments rich expressions.

Possibly I’m one of few – or few new millions.

I’m inspired when tired, fired up.

Even when I’ve written ‘crap’

No one’s there to trap me.

Some reviewer always sees my views,

Understands.

Someone always sends

Me praise; ends with a Like.

I’ve never had a spikey word;

Cordiality is all I’ve ever read or heard.

Commonality forever somewhere, there

Where someone wants to start a group.

Always somebody to whoop de whoop:

Somewhere folk who populate;

A troupe with common passions.

Then there are the monthly Happys:

Happy Birthdays, Christmases and Easters…

Never had one word rescinded.

Reminded gently daily:

Classmates, playmates

I’d forgotten, dovetailed,

Blazoned on the psyche;

Friends and places,

And of course, the faces –

It is Facebook, after all; the key, the glee,

A source of history.

As for weaknesses I’ve read about –

Never think to route them out,

Going ‘bout my business,

Focused on creativeness,

The lofty and the small.

I like Facebook.

Happy Facebook to you all!

I Like Facebook 3.31.2018 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Corwin

 

 

  

Can It Be?

             Can It Be?

Can it be that we

No longer have to worry,

Be concerned about IQ and such,

It not much longer meaning much

When something’s to be learned?

 

Can it be we do not need those centers

To adapt and enter

Higher states,

Taking in non-useful crates

Of knowledge and/or information.

 

Wouldn’t that be lovely…

Days that don’t demand the shove

Of knowledge from an app

To make you happy?

 

Synapse, axon, neuron:

Hordes of intricate connections

Just to reach a level new;

Some new standard, some new status

You consider you.

 

Well, it seems that they’ve discovered

What you probably knew all the time:

You only need a darned few dendrites,

Through the days and nights

Of facts and figures all around;

Surrounding signals chemical/electric

To slow down the darned runaround.

Can it be that life that thrives

Is simpler than our brains surmise

From all the data thrown at us?

 

Maybe just a little meditation

And the silencing of motion

In the ocean of illusion

And the feeding of a news that’s false –

What we’re really needing,

The concoction and the potion

Has been right before our noses

All the time.

Can It Be? 3.29.2018 Our Times, Our Culture II; Revelations Big & Small; Arlene Corwin

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