Partners In Rhyme

     Partners In Rhyme

I’m so corny, but it’s fun!

Now to the question:

Who is partner in this scene

Where meaning

Starts and is developed

Meaningfully or codswallop-ed?

Meter counts (at least for me).

Perhaps it is the arbiter,

The bona fide and unalloyed: the real  partner

Overall or under all and after all.

Who knows

When poetry is prose,

Nonsensical or serious?

Sugar sweet or just plain noise?

Lachrymose or just plain gauze?

Perhaps there is no one collaborator

But spans of conspirators

From many sources 

Stacked and heaped and piled high

So that they’re quite unrecognised

By you and I  (by my own eye).

In any case, the phrase, though slight

Is quite deliberately sweet.

And so I use it on this sheet

For you to call it winsome

Or plain ordinary sh—t and cheap.

I repeat:

I can be trite, banal and corny,

But the irony

Is the I’m thoughtful in the written essay,

Trying to share silliness

Or whatsoever depth is there.

Perhaps that is the partner.

Partners In Rhyme 9.23.2018 A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin

 

 

How Much of Life/Meta- (Beyond)The Natural Sharer

They were done last night. Finished today, of course. Revised three years later.

All In A Night

 

              How Much of Life…?

 

How much of life is fear determined?

Wakeful days, the sleeping nights

We know so little of,

Fear when even friends are near,

Invaded, oft pervaded by its ambience,

Its atmosphere –

How to transcend it?

 

               Meta- (Beyond)

 

Something’s joining us to everything.

You’re breathing in, you’re breathing out –

How does what comes in come about?

‘Tween seen and known, the provable and shown

Is something even genius can’t do more than hint at:

Something meta-.

Breath as tools, breath-excused

Designed to live here in this atmosphere

Extracting, giving, taking,

Driven to survive: a generational archive.

Where, from, and why?

A gift so other souls thrive further.

 

                The Natural Sharer

The natural sharer, makes his information clearer;

Any phrase that he’s afraid may cloud.

He’ll write, correct and trace the awkward

Served upon a silver platter,

He’ll waive the chatter for a word,

Hunt down its root, though

Not giving a hoot for you,

And yet, the sharer must beware,

For he can tire,

Make subject dreary, listener weary,

Sound pedantic, lack in logic.

Bless the poet conjurer

Who’d take you to the strangest lands;

Bless the harbinger, the hands that share

Because the thought is there –

And nothing other.

 

All In A Night 12.19.2015/re-written9.12.2018 Definitely Didactic; Arlene Nover Corwin

 

You Have Gifts

                     You Have Gifts

You have gifts no single else, no place, nowhere has.

Do you know it as it lifts your psyche to complete you?

Do you know it as its singular perfume

Wafts through the air from deepest room

To Machu Picchu,

There to share with worlds around you?

Do you underrate its craft and power

To drift through planet’s ether –

Gifts so wide apart as goodness,

Shrewdness, carving wood, yes,

Turning oldness into newness –

Gifts diverse and sundry never to be set aside,

Paid no attention to or disregarded?

Qualities divinely brought about,

Let your signal talents radiate and shout.

Don’t throw them out.

They’re yours apart and separate.

You Have Gifts 9.7.2018 The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin

 

A Meditative Attempt At Comforting

         A Meditative Attempt At Comforting

You are my synapses,

My consciousness,

My chemistry  

And everyone’s.

I have no ‘my’,

I have no say.

We are combined and mixed as one.

We are a kind of moon and sun.

That being so, 

One has to rest and be at ease

In seeming damned catastrophes:

Ageing’s ills and strains unbidden.

Youth’s robustness to bed-ridden

Impotence that needs to ask for each and every  

Life’s dependency.

This, for a friend ‘who sees an end,

And for another with the bother

Of a herniated rupture.

This, a meditative scripture

On attempts to see things are they are;

As they really, really are, 

Have been and will be ever.

A Meditative Attempt At Comforting 9.4.2018 God Book II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Thoughts On A Sunday Morning After Coffee

         Thoughts On A Sunday Morning After Coffee

Always lifted, clear, inspired,

Tiredness completely sifted.

Left, whatever nature’s genes have gifted,

Here I sit on puffed up pillow,

Waiting, willing any little thought to flow,

Transformed by life’s maturity

To something noble.

Where to go?

In life, in word the path will show itself

If I just sit and wait, short term, long term,

Flexible, accessible but firm.

Okay, I’ll trust,

Doing what I must according to

My character, my mood, my temperament,

The moment.

See you later, alligator!

See you after

Thought’s been drafted,

Grafted from idea to paper.

As it comes I’ll watch with interest,

Witness and participant,

Recipient and implement.  

Tool as well as karma’s fool. 

Isn’t coffee wonderfull!

Thoughts On A Sunday Morning After Coffee 8.12.2018 The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Here & Now: A Mantra

Waking with a fuzzy mind I had to collect myself. Here’s what I did.
        Here & Now: A Mantra✍️🤔
 
This is where I am: here and now.
Not then, oh no!
Just, but and only now.
This body, senses,
Thoughts a row
Of Nows that keep on going.
 
Hand that holds this pen
With eyes that note an orange pad,
Then looks out at a morning cloud;
A back that feels a warmth from bed;
A mind that lets it all writ down.
 
Here and now.
A here in flow.
A shifting focus in the flood of time
Whose now is dawn,
Where ballpoint ink is going soon.
Whose whose belongs
To some Unseen Unfelt: a boon.
 
This me,
My here and now,
I bow to it.
Here & Now: A Mantra Revelations Big & Small; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin

When Enlightenment Goes Vacationing

  When Enlightenment Goes Vacationing

It’s that sort of day;
Clear, dear enlightened mind
Feels far away,
Enlightenment become benightedness.
Yet part of this fazed, fuzzy mind finds
Something there to write about,
For fear of frightening
A skill into enduring standstill.
Everybody knows
A dancer cannot skip a day.
What grows as artistry
Cannot afford a day’s abandonment of creativity,
A sloughing off of habit.
It’s the habit that enables one to duplicate,
Recreate and new-create.
So I cheat stagnation one more time
By making up this roughshod rhyme
To keep my brain in prime condition
Even when the clime is wrong,
The chime of
Reverberates with no ding-dong.
When dear, clear vision goes vacationing,
It’s gentle bullying
That wins the day.
When Enlightenment Goes Vacationing 7.28.2018 The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin

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