Who Was I In A Former Life?

 Who Was I In A Former Life?

I write.
Most everyday.
Began, as far as I can see
At nine or ten, just poetry:
Always, always poetry.

I sing.
Professionally at nine or,
Maybe well before.
Weddings, parties, goodness knows how, when and where, :
Don’t remember, (but it’s there).

Raising bonds for World War Two;
Chosen for school plays also.
Does this point to something old, something new?
Something I was born to do?.

Just reflecting decades later.
Eight decades and still at verse;
Not adverse, but still AT verse.
Still performing, age a blessing
And a curse.

Nursing all these gifts God given.
Wond’ring, pond’ring
Where, how, why it all came from.
Was I Shakespeare? Jenny Lind?
I’ve not attained that kind of art.
Not smart enough nor gifted.
Sifting through the ancestry –
What might have been, who might be me,
I cannot sniff out anybody.

You? For you
Is rebirth reality?
A possibility?
I’d like to hear
From those of you with years behind;
Ideas, the sense beyond
existence.
Who Was I In A Former Life? 5.25.2022 Circling Round Existence; Arlene Nover Corwin

The Prize Itself

  The Prize Itself

“Poetry a record of human experience
As valuable as history:”

History, a record valuable as earthly presence
In all forms, all entities;
Legged, armed, bodied we –
An all-inclusive’ family.

A prize is – what?
A symbol of the unsurpassed,
Superlative? First-class? The best?
What is best when all are vested
In and dressed
In talents endless:

Individuality, unique
But incomplete .
To be refined and re-defined
Each passing second, blessed first.
I surmise, each one the prize
Itself.
The Prize Itself 5.24.2022 Circling Round Existence; Arlene Nover Corwin

  • Quote from Poet Lore

Jazz Invincible

      Jazz Invincible

The entire mode of jazz expression
Perhaps informed by one progression:
One, four five: or
Blues-cum-jive
Upbeat, down, the mood, the beat,
The sound encompassing the heat,
The call, the all of swingng,
Playing, singing…
Even dancing while romancing.

Listening to jazz
In any meter, and/or pace
Is more uplifting
Than the swallowing or sniffing
Of all, any drug.
Myself, I want to hug my husband,
Practice more,
Make my ears, eyes, mouth my score:
(music score, of course)

The source of it, inside myself
I cannot trace,
My boyfriend played the saxophone.
I thirteen, much alone
(my parents owned a hair salon)
He told me about Symphony Sid.
I started listening in bed.

I was, way ‘fore George Shearing
On hearing ‘Jumping With…’
I wrote the first song heralding
The great recording by Fitzgerald.
(Ella, fellas)

I was hooked, and have been since.
Jazz invincible,
My middle name,
The frame and aim.
Jazz Invincible 5.24.2022 Vaguely About Music II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Lighter Nights

     Lighter Nights

Shorter, lighter nights have started.
TV weather map displays it:
Longer days and higher sun,
Shorter darkness, earlier dawn.

How the mood and body says it!
These days it
Grants energy so sorely needed
Wiinter long
When stuck inside, one’s summer song
Faint, indistinct.
It’s May. I think
The best is still to come:

Humming, bees,
Explodng trees,
Flowers, sky…
‘When “ The grass is as high
As an elephant’s eye”*

Oh, if I
Could have and save
These lighter nights,
The days between
I’d call it sweet, sweet heaven
All my waking days in Sweden.
Lighter Nights 5.23.2022 Circling Round Nature II; Arlene Nover Corwin

  • from the musical “Oklahoma” by Rogers & Hammerstein.

Lighter Nights

     Lighter Nights

Shorter, lighter nights have started.
TV weather map displays it:
Longer days and higher sun,
Shorter darkness, earlier dawn.

How the mood and body says it!
These days it
Grants energy so sorely needed
Wiinter long
When stuck inside, one’s summer song
Faint, indistinct.
It’s May. I think
The best is still to come:

Humming, bees,
Explodng trees,
Flowers, sky…
‘When “ The grass is as high
As an elephant’s eye”*

Oh, if I
Could have and save
These lighter nights,
The days between
I’d call it sweet, sweet heaven
All my waking days in Sweden.
Lighter Nights 5.23.2022 Circling Round Nature II; Arlene Nover Corwin

    

God, You Are…

God, You Are…

God, you are my now –
Somehow.
You are my there –
Somewhere.
My here, my near…
I dare to say.

My present state
In meditation.
Watches, waits
In meditation
For some evidence that states
Your Being is alive and well,
Considerate of my survival
And all other beings in what looks like hell –
World circumstances being what they are.

Really underneath your spell
And your control.
Are you the whole,
The A to Z that soothes –
Or is it fantasy?

As far as this mere ‘fan’ can see
It craves your loyalty
And mine.
It helps to feel a power divine.
Daily aids which aren’t imaginary,
Synchronicity no mere coincidence,
But more like presence,
Presents.

Whatever is reality
I shall continue ‘seeing’ you
As actuality.
I have no choice, and yet,
I’m making choices endlessly.
Nature being what it is

Anomaly and mystery,
Some inconsistency’s absurdity;
You will remain a living entity
For me and millions like me.
God, You Are…5.22.2022 God Book II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Snakes In Swedish Paradise

Snakes In Swedish Paradise

Snakes in paradise:
I love it.
Not just one –
Two kinds or three.
They come each summer –
All the winter in retreat.
They’re so darned sweet!
A huggorm, copperorm and snok.***

The huggorm can but doesn’t bite.
Just don’t annoy him on his site.
The snok is harmless.
Both so pretty in their tints,
Their hints of tint:
The copper orm my favourite.

How their image ever landed
As a symbol
I don’t understand it.

I tried to rescue one
That was run over.
Oh, I tried.
Oh, I cried.
The copper snake lay in the sun,
Its stunning color quite undone.

Paradise is nice for snakes.
They have their place
In and among the human race.
Let’s not deride this pride of nature
But admire his very fine attire
As he slides and glides, his stature mired
In the myths of danger.
Snakes In Swedish Paradise 5.19.2022 Circling Round Nature; Swedish Book II; Arlene Nover Corwin

*orm means snake.
**huggorm means viper
** snok means snake
***copperorm means copper snake

The Older I Get

The Older I Get

The older I get
The more wet concepts
Become concrete;
Realities to write about,
Grow into realtime and testable corporealities.
Age has its perks.

What once belonged to musing,
Bone and muscle disappearing,
Worry, fearing, body-tearing.
Is now fused to brain-wrought thought.

Old is very many things:
Da da da and wrinklings. tinklings
Sprinklings that live their own life;
Firmed beliefs and small reliefs,
One of which is understanding:
Tolerance and love
Which stand above all former standing.
Things reputed or disputed evened out.

Old is nothing one should shout at:
Nothing to sweat, fret about,
The wisdom compensation ‘nough.
Cough, cough, puff, puff,
Blast off!
Thereafter,
Lift off! ♥︎
The Older I Get 5.18.2022 Circling Round Ageing; Arlene Nover Corwin

The Struggle Between Good & Bad

The Struggle Between Good & Bad

I don’t like to use the words
Evil, vile, devilish;
Don’t want to couple wickedness
With catastrophic, ruinous:
They sound too, too, well, evil.

Weather can be bad, not evil.
People can be bad not hurtful.
One can have the worst intention:
Greedy, lustful, vices seven.
They’s not nice, but devil?
They, you, I have work to do to get to heaven.
We are jerks – each one of us.

To be sure,
There is a struggle to undo,
Say toodle-oo,
Transform the bubble vice to virtue.
House no contempt!
Who ’s exempt?
Don’t be first to throw a stone.
We have unpleasant features of our own
To cure –
To be sure.
The Struggle Between Good & Bad 5.18.2022 I Is always You Is We; Arlene Nover Corwin

Prosaic

  Prosaic

Inspired, equally ordinary;
Unconventional but everyday;
Interested and interesting,
Willing to be slightly hackneyed.
Poetic and prosaic simultaneously.
Unadorned and unembellished:
That is me –
At least that’s what I want to be.

Using words like yup, ok –
Good old fashioned bad cliché,
I dash ahead with not a doubt inside this head,
So hamstrung this mentality.

My soul concrete
As Brooklyn’s street
(where born and bred)
Aim to communicate
Is all I want –
or ever wanted.

Thus the language is prosaic
Not the academic
Often met.

You bet!
(My dad’s pet phrase)

If there is something you don’t get.
Send me a letter.
I will always try
To clarify,
Clear-speak the best of means and end
To make a friend
Of strangers.
Prosaic 5.17.2022 I Is Always You Is We; Arlene Nover Corwin

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