Arlene Corwin Poetry

 Apologia,  But…

No politician I,
Peace loving, appreciative,
Like so many, non-activist-ive
Going round my little world a little elf
Developing the Self.

Suddenly I find my mind’s in different mode.
A neutral country’s been attacked,
Civilians killed by torture, rape, brutalities
A brand new fact.
Age-old tactic,
Guns and bullets notwithstanding.

Behind it all, perhaps in front.
A globe is grunting.
Falling, falling,
Some are stalling out of greed’s self-interest.
We may just fail that test
Of world survival.
Then comes Putin’s war as rival.

I, the spiritual and meditative,
Philosophical and art creative
Find myself involved.
God-oriented me
Wants to see
The world revolve:

Sunshine, seasons, myriad reasons
To respect our fellow man;
Love and peace and cease to war –
Because we can!
We can!
Apologia, But 5.16.2022 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Ordinary Sititting-In.the-Sun Summer Poem

Winter slumbers.
Everything alive in summers.
Covid doesn’t thrive in summers.

Sitting here, arms, legs, chest bare;
Cushioned chair, aware of self;
Ant’s shelf the porch and wooden planks –
The whole a bank of happiness.

Blackbirds pecking at the lawn.
Albert Cat is fawning over food potentials,
Spawning dreams of good unmentionables;
Watching, catching, scratching, snatching.

Though they hear his subdued screams,
His reams of sound,
They hang around, pecking the ground.
It’s grand.
The long and short is no one’s hurt.
Whadda day!

They ultimately fly away.
Albert Cat decides to play.
Amusement there for everyone.

Oh, this month – the months to come!
Grass has grown, potatoes sown.
One is warmly left alone
To meditate, create or read.
Summer’s creed fulfilled.

One has waited all the winter
For this banter and the miracle of nature
To occur, concur with frostbit wishes,
Promises and pledges kept
While people slept with sweaters on
And zone by zone
Nature cloned itself.
Ordinary Sitting-In.the-Sun Summer Poem 5.15.2022 Circling Round Nature II; Arlene Nover Corwin

After seeing two insects halfway up the bathtub – dead. They must have died trying to get out.

My Grudge Against Death

I have a grudge against death.
I’d like to cudgel death to death,
Nudge it to unconsciousness –
Death the smudge on life.
I’m not a judge,
But I’ve a grudge.

I’m sure you all agree.
No one should have to leave
And not come back.

There are some who dodge the question.
I, I bridge this life to force divine,
Its energy a mine of diamonds,
Forging truth and happiness to ripening’s gestation:

Maybe everlasting is too much to ask;
Basking in the breath of living,
Forgiven and forgiving. Oh my!

Grudge is not a nice thing,
But I’m feisty
And the sludge of death
Gives me the right to cry.
My Grudge Against Death 5.10.2022 Birth, Death & In Between II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Things Stop Working

I fancy I belong to an alternative existence.
For I cannot stand that things don’t function.
References extremely small,
Annoyances without an unction.

Clocks and watches that stop running.
Printers that no longer print,
Quit at quite un-stunning times.
I use these things so when suddenly and rapidly
They’re shirking and no longer going,
Printing out or whatsoever they’ve been told to:
Go tick tock, sprints slowed to zero.

It drives me nuts for all my buts,
For labor, by the sweat of brow
Piles miles up, waiting, while the bonkers conquers.

Supposing all the power sours
And my works of art, my multi-oeuvre
Can’t be shared;
Bared or cared for globally.
Tossed into karma’s garbage can.
Opus lost. Oh, damn!

Things stop working in the murky circus of life’s cycles.
(Bicycles as well.)
Things Stop Working 5.10.2019/Revised5.10.2022 A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Arlene Nover Corwin

     Gratitude Unending

Have I said this before?
It seems to be renewed:
Yes, gratitude revered,

Fresh and vibrant each new time.
Occurring on this very morn:
A tv interview reminder.

And me reminded once again
How very grateful I have been
Each growing day
That I get Comments, Likes and Loves…
All signs that make the day to grow,
And me also.

Deep and philosophic, funny,
Reactions and replies – ne’er an insult.
All the Facebook world consulted:
Asis, Europe USA…
People who I’ve never met
Saying they’ve been wired, taught;
The whole a sire-ing of poets everywhere.
Who could wish for more?

And compliments and homages!
Flattery, good wishes, honeyed words
That push one further.
Given every chance to air,
Think through the wildest,
The most varied, childish themes;
Freedom to the intellect and dream
So limited as only I know that they are;
A chance to change the form
Develop rhyme,
To find my style,
While all the while
Sitting, pecking, tapping, keys.
How pleased I am
To get this chance
To have newly made-up dance
With you.
A glimpse and glance at gratitude.
Gratitude Continues 5 10.2022 Pure Nakedness II; Circling Round Everything; Experience; Arlene Nover Corwin

   Gone

This, a non-important
Yet essential thought:
Millions being bombed to death:
Gone in depth. In breath.
But only TV numbers mentioned on
The media.
Where is sympathy,
The empathy?
Empty as one well can see.
I don’t imply indifference,
But ignor-ance to the -nth degree.

Ukraine War
Is more than
Just a Russian thing.
It is the killing
Of the conscious, feeling and reactive being.
It’s the loss of future genius,
Future talent,
Future global gifts.
It’s blood and pain.

Yes, I complain.
Complain when
Features,
Animal, plant, human creatures
Are destroyed.
Toyed with for no patent reason –
Only blatant and outlandish reasons.

Concocted by some mad dictator and orator
Living in a crater of deception –
Probably his own.

Gone is over.
Gone’s no more.
Six feet under.
Gone is fallen, past, asunder.
Gone is done with.

I complain.
For what is slain
and who is slain.
For all the pain they’ve undergone
For all the pinning hopes on high.
Statistics can but signify.
Gone 5.8.2022 War Book; A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Being Faithful To What You Are

When you finally find what are,
What your innermost
Stands actually for –
What more can your
Personal attired self desire?

Outer then reflecting inner;
Modesty and bravery,
Oddity, outlandishness,
Anomaly and rarity:
All that, and profoundly more.

What you are, is
What no other is.

Because you’ve sought, still seek,
Trying for development in places weak,
You can be full-ended:
Splendid!
Light and bright,
To wave unfurled
To help the world.

The nice thing is, with growth unnoticed,
You develop faith, an oath mightily noted.
Routing round the intellect,
Focussing and re-collecting
You connect with what you’ve been,
Finally to rid yourself of sins
You were inclined to.

A subject well to ponder over.
Signed,
Arlene neé Nover.
Born November ’34.

Being Faithful To What You Are 5.7.2022 Pure Nakedness II; Circling Round Experience; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Nover Corwin

 I Used To Be

(an ageing jazz pianist/singer observes)

I used to be interested in voicings:
No longer or, not anymore.
I’m much more primitive and noisy,
You can call me grandma Moses,
Taking handicaps, the wonders’ curiosities of change
And how they come with age.

I used to be concerned with beauty.
Now not much. See it as a vanity.
My touch at the piano of no interest and importance.

So much seems of little relevance:
Advancing years.
My ears, of course,
The ones alert to harmonies, to melodies;

It pleases me to feel
That they hear, can still
Put flesh on, broaden or elaborate,
But in a way that comes from the temperament, the talent mine.
I may not shine the way I used to,
But I’m getting used to that –
The ups and downs of being flat,
The unforeseeable I cannot formulate,
Anticipate in all its glory,
It becoming an old story.

There is no ‘used to be’
There’s only now and me
And doing things creatively.
That’s it!
I Used To Be.5.4.2019 Vaguely About Music II; Pure Nakedness II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Albert Cat Is Twelve Today

Albert Cat Is twelve today!
Dear cat of ours,
Hours spent watching you play,
Learning how and what you say
In language that we understand.
Purr, purr, purr!
(not ‘her’, but him, him, him and hmm).

With few demands, we know
When you want food,
Will go outside,
Will take a wheelbarrow ride,
Wlll drink from bathroom sink
(which we leave dripping just for you night through).

Albert, Albert, Happy Birthday
As you lie there steeped in sleep,
One of the day’s naps you creep into.
Do you dream?
You do! So human are you!

We respect you.
Don’t expect much from you,
For we know how much we get
From giving and providing for you.

Know you love massage or brush.
We feel a rush each thing we do
For you;
Each treat you eat.

Albert sweet,
You make our lives complete.
If you can live some twelve years more, (us too),
We’ll be the glad-est on our street.
Albert Cat Is Twelve Today 5.6.2022. Cat Book II; Arlene Nover Corwin

Each person should see himself as though the entire world were held in balance and with a single deed he could tip the scale.
Maimonades.

Do You Really Want To Get Rich?

You aways have, will always have
The same head on your shoulders.
Life is shorter than you think.
Goes by in cliché ‘wink’.

Gifts, shortcomings, flaws’ infection.
So many reasons to reflect on
If your aim is getting rich.
Lots of money takes your time,
Beaucoup de time to care of dime.

If it’s happiness you want.
There is no guarantee you get it
Watching money grow, making sure it doesn’t go,
Buying things you think you need
Just to find that they don’t feed the need
You thought they would.

Will you get more status?
Admired, mired in the mud of envy?
Will your faith increase, you feel more whole?
Or greed take sneakily the central role?
Does the old unsureness disappear?
Do you find yourself more in arrears
Than ever, your demands become your treasure?
We all want something bigger.
Something that demands a rigour,

Taken seriously – in earnest.
It’s not much to feel we’re ‘best’
With modesty, humility the basis.

Yet it’s hard to show, know, recognise
That we are heir to traits we share in common
Which persisted in pursuit
Is really Self and and in the self the Truth.
Faith, contentment, knowledge of
What’s real, pure, long lasting: love.
Do You Really Want To Get Rich? %.5.2022 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Nover Corwin