Gifted But Out Of Tune

 

Doctor: “What can you expect?

You’re eighty-two! Accept it!

Vocal cords, no longer tighten.

Yours will never close again.”

 

Goodness knows, boy, do I know it!

Unpredictable, quixotic.

Coming, going, throwing

Intonation out the window.

 

Eighty-two, all soon to be

An eighty- three.

Must Corwin flee because of age?

Flee the stage because of age?

Damn, no!

Today, tomorrow,

She says no to going!

 

Sings her heart out – when she can.

Songs fantastic; jazzy, cool,

Breaking rule harmonic

For the music and the fun of it.

But voice, alas, hard to control,

Its life so unconnected to the whole.

 

Bitch pitch, stich with crooked seam;

Bad, sad, how she sorely wants to scream.

She doesn’t.   Giving out the gifts from heaven,

Hearing flaws – now a given.

Focusing

on now and only…

Singing, playing joyfully;

Doing when and how,

She crowns the gig and takes a bow.

Gifted But Out Of Tune 10.7.2017

Vaguely About Music II; Pure Nakedness; Circling Round Aging;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

Death Is Always On My Mind

(Watching the oncoming hurricane Maria. The 2nd in two weeks – same place) 

        Death Is Always In My Mind

Death is always on my mind

In one way or another.

Lying there sneakily,

Shaking me

When something happens on TV.

All around a violence:

In the weather, in the city,

In our children, in the poverty:

Calamity.

How to stay calm lamb myself;

A question half my brain

is taken up with.

 

Hurricanes, shoulder pains,

Underlying wonderings.

Questions without answers;

Wishes not yet answered.

 

And the time!

Always the passing

Without chance of stopping;

In the stars, the planets;

In the ants & stones & plants.

Yet a cup of coffee

And the world is right.

All the worries of the night

Transformed,

And energy to right my life –

If not the world –

Uncurled –

Thus one goes forward.

 

Death Is Always On My Mind 9.19.2017

Pure Nakedness; Nature Of & In Reality; Our Times, Our Culture II; Birth, Death & In Between II:

Arlene Corwin

 

Brain, Give Me The Answers

Does this sound too much like prayer?

A little red-faced,

Weakness in my psyche.

Embarrassed ‘cause it’s not like me,

One feels the hypocrite:

I, who stake

My life on ‘God, who makes not one mistake’,

And here I sit,

Baby-ish,

Asking to change destiny –

At least push it my way.

Shame, shame on me!

 

I’ve got to wait –

Just like all others.

Meditate,

Reject my druthers,

Concentrate.

(I’m poor at that).

Be grateful for the goods I’ve got

(and that includes MyQ

and its capacities))

 

Nonetheless, addressing you,

Dear self so true,

We have a pact

(And that’s a fact)

So if you will cooperate,

I’ll wait

Until who knows, the whimsicality of fate

Is ripe: propitious, and/or generous

And brain-wise,

Advantageous.

 

Brain, Give Me The Answers 8.24.2017

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

Arlene Corwin

A/The/My Way (redone)

         A/The/My Way

 I never knew I had a ‘way’.

And still it shows up day by day

Laws but felt, themes unmeant;

Through sudden fountains of content;

Through many offshoots but one road,

No signposts to direct or goad.

Still it is:

A kiss of fate though non-insistent,

Usually

An accident and serendipitous.

 

And because, and just because it is a whisper

I’ve no choice

But to

Tune into

And obey,

Swaying to its hinted push,

The glint of pressure

Nothing but a pure, faint sureness

And a pleasure.    

            

Minutes past I ate three plastic plates of pasta.

Forgive this frilly, dilly of a joke.

I can be such a silly yokel

With punch/pun-ny lines that hit my funny bone(s).

 

Now I sit with pen in hand

On my verandah, in the wind,

Thankful for not understanding

Karma’s muted law un-grand,

Inscrutable but suitable

To me alone – one on her own

Within the actions and concerns.

 

A/The/My Way 8.6.2017

Pure Nakedness; Revelations Big & Small; A Sense Of The Ridiculous II;

Arlene Corwin

A/The/My Way

I never knew I had a ‘way’.

And still it shows up da by day

Laws but felt, themes unmeant;

Through sudden fountains of content;

Through many offshoots but one road,

No signposts to direct or goad.

Still it is:

A kiss of fate though non-insistent,

Usually

An accident and serendipitous.

 

And because, and just because it is a whisper

I’ve no choice

But to

Tune into

And obey,

Swaying to its hinted push,

The glint of pressure

Nothing but a pure, faint sureness

And a pleasure.

 

———-

 

Minutes past I ate three plastic plates of pasta.

(a pun-ny lie, but funny)

Now I sit with pen in hand

On my verandah, in the wind,

Thankful for not understanding

Karma’s muted law un-grand,

Inscrutable but suitable

To me alone,

One on her own

Within the schemes and actions of concern.

 

A/The/My Way 8.6.2017

Pure Nakedness; Revelations Big & Small;

Arlene Corwin

It Has Been A Lifetime Of…

It has been a lifetime of, well, meditation:

Meditation/prayer, prayer weaker

(more appeal and supplication

Than an offering without a question).

 

Not really lifetime, I admit, but,

Years and years of seeking It,

Approaching It, trying to find, bind Arlene

With hope that she’ll become more than a hopeless dope;

Hope and that arcane, otherworldly word

That rhymes with earth and mirth and forth and wraith:

 

“What can it be?”(said she inscrutably).

Of course, it’s faith!

The hardest of the hard.

(Don’t let them kid you what they say they’ve got it)

Faith both gift and hard, hard practice.

Owning, losing day to day.

 

It’s been a lifetime – that’s for sure.

But life continues now to now:

Day to day, year to year

And meditation and the prayer

(Each in its place) continue too.

The real me

Still uncompleted

As of our poetic meet

This very heartbeat.

 

It’s Been A Lifetime Of…7.13.2017

The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Pure Nakedness;

Arlene Corwin

Tipsy

           Tipsy

I was tipsy last night,

Quite enjoyed it.

Drinking just a thimbleful one time a year,

And there was I, a stumblebum, but clear

In head,

Dutifully fulfilling all that needed

To be done.

A charming, wonderful sensation – fun.

And yet, I thought about my liver.

Will I ever, no, I’ll never

Be a drinker,

I’m too much a thinker

And a Jew.

And if you didn’t know

We Jews are not great drinkers,

Just great thinkers,

Contrite sinners on Yom Kippur

Nobel winners,

Alcohol not in our tribe.

And so, it is not likely I’ll imbibe

Too many jiggers wine or booze;

Too many calories

And I don’t want to lose

My liver’s life too soon –

Or looks, or senses or the boon

Of brain and knowing

Who I am

And who I’m born

To be.

Tipsy 7.1.2017

Pure Nakedness;

Arlene Corwin

 

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