Talk To Yourself

     Talk To Yourself

They call it meditation.

Finding the silence, or at least,

A piece of peace.

It, using pictures, often language.

What a tool, this language thing

Born into time’s beginning.

 

I talk, inevitably landing in

A giving in, words running out.

I question, pray, request, inquire;

All require words, a chat,

And chat can prattle, babble, rattling on,

I even chew the fat.

It all turns into giving in.

 

We have a nice relationship, I and me.

One reflecting all I need.

You may call it God: That’s good. Importantly,

You should converse with brain

Again, again: a conversation

Heart-to heart. Mentioning

And giving in,

For in the end that’s all there is:

Your message will come forth.

Talk To Yourself 12.17.2017 The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Corwin

I’ll Never Be A Virtuoso

           I’ll Never Be A Virtuoso

(Notes from a Piano Playing/Singer/Poet)

I’ll never be a virtuoso.

Sure as I’m an expert on

My name, my palm – I know it.

So I ponder as I listen to

Michel Petrucciani on piano,

Joe Pass on guitar,

Wayne Shorter on the tenor –

Am I any less an artist sans finesse

If runs, uneven, coarse run out into the sand?

Of course not.

Never to become a virtuoso is my lot.

 

But I’ve a lot that’s going for me:

Tempos, energy,

Out-coming spontaneity,

Ongoing creativity, ingoing spirit,

And an awfully cheerful personality;

Gifts and graces I don’t even know about,

Waiting to come out – or out.

 

Noel Coward wrote: ‘the talent to amuse’….

Perhaps I use that talent,

And there’s nothing wrong with that.

 

My notes are high while not the highest,

Vocabulary not extensive,

Not the most imaginative;

IQ slightly more superior than Pooh’s:

Who cares?

(That’s not a question but an exclamation).

Never virtuoso, I shall be the one

Who wears her brain upon her sleeve,

Her heart her slave.

 

Somewhat below, above so-so,

I know I’ll never be a virtuoso.

I can live with that.

I’ll Never Be A Virtuoso 5.21.2014 Vaguely About Music II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Pure Nakedness; Arlene Corwin

Brain, Give Me The Answers

       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

 

 

 

Always In Preparation #2

           Always In Preparation #2

(a rather long simplification)

 

Always in preparation for an interview:

What will I answer? Never know.

– What do I like? do things I do, the way I do?

– Write poetry, play jazz, do yoga?

Body/mind my mental window in my mental interview:

And I must justify it all.

Some germ, some theme begins the whole:

The technical; word hurdles

When I write or sing;

All challenging,

Performing, writing or just doing.

 

T’ween two covers it’s official;

Everything grist-for-the-mill,

I’ll likely publish ‘til I’m still.

No special motive winks or flirts,

No motive hides behind my skirts –

 

My ears hear musically,

It all comes naturally, substance counting most;

Not tricks, not formulae, cliché –

If there’s a Corwin idiom

It’s in the DNA.

I work out tunes, -out poetry, -out bodily.

The mind works out spontaneously,

I (wherever I is to be found) give in, give form,

Substance from-and-in the frame.

 

In short, I paint myself into a box

And creep around

Until some [final] satisfaction binds.

A futile paradox:

To clarify and satisfy

The interview,

But there am I,

Always in preparation.

 Always In Preparation 7.6.2014

Pure Nakedness; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;revised 11.21.2017

Arlene Corwin

 

 

I Am So Grateful [Anybody Reads this Stuff]

I Am So Grateful [Anybody Reads This Stuff]

 I am so grateful anybody reads this stuff.

Exasperated that most others don’t.

And even with an inner miff

I carry on, pushed by an inner drift,

(some would add an inner gift)

Ambition not my motivation.

 

A brainstorm popping from wherever popping up pops up from.

You will recall it’s happened to you all;

You know, thoughts over which you’d no control.

And yet you thought them, acted out on

Drives beyond what’s called

Free will. 

 

So, am I grateful or detached?

Dispassionate, disinterested, crosshatched?

Standing alone from strength

Yet obstinate from weakness’ lack of confidence.

I’m sure of this:  the length

Of life that’s left to me,

I will persist in poetry.

(One must

When it lies in the guts)

Tampering with syntax, spelling, yummy slang,

Choice aesthetics in good taste/

Choices crappy and a waste;

Writing with a rhythmic sense,

Caring very much for tense,

But not for meters recherché;

I, utmost mystic and most earthy:

Quelle dichotomy!

Hypocrisy?  No, contrast only!

 I am grateful for and to the one

That read Ms Corwin.

 

I Am So Grateful 11.14.2017

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

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In A Cloud Of God

     In A Cloud Of God

I meditate

In a cloud of God,

The phrase enticing,

Spicing up my inner vision,

Paradis-ing selfsame vision

Into supervision.

This decision to be deep in thought

That isn’t thought exactly

But a tactful way to find the mind

Without a wandering in imagery,

Colloquially speaking,

And between you, me, i.e. we, us

Who chance to meet on this

Our [quasi] paper

Is escape of noblest kind,

Leading blindly on pure trust

To someplace nice – yes, nicest!

 

In A Cloud Of God 11.13.2017

God Book II; The Processes; Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;

Arlene Corwin

Morning’s Minute Meditation

     Morning’s Minute Meditation

I send my heart this morn,

Not with emotion but with intellect –

For I suspect that’s quite okay.

One may think one’s way,

Not necessarily emote,

For one connects in any case,

Each with a modus operandi.

In conclusion,

Not to worry how it’s done

Every bit a hit

(as in reward for effort).

Just one minute needed.

Morning’s Minute Meditation 11.12.2017

The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; To The Child Mystic II;

Arlene Corwin

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