My Am Is Mother #1 1960

     My Am Is Mother

My am is the link, the mother unfolding.

Into my womb forms from infinity cling

Until ready to re-enter fresh,

Their shield flesh.

Force that brings nature to man.

Yet nature I – creation my husband.

My am is mother. I am the womb man;

I hold in enfoldment all parts of the whole.

I start, impart, I render fresh

Heart-new, re-entering flesh;

New choices, martyrdoms,

Chances to reach from sensual crumbs

To final fulfillment.

I am the merger, love, the converger;

The ohm, the shoal: energy’s soul.

My am is the face of the force.

As mate of creation, death too.

My am is mother.

I am the womb man betrothed to enigma.

Ensconced within, en route to some class,

First slapped on the ass but graced with grace.

They’re born re-faced.

My am is love waiting on the above.

Counted, numbered,

Named and de-slumbered:

And fixed to know or not know,

Because it is so –

I am the fixer, the mixer,

The mother, the womb man.

Death too.

©My Am Is Mother 9.1960/1995/2004

Circling Round Woman; Circling Round Nature;

Birth, Death & In Between; To The Child Mystic; Mother Book;

Arlene Corwin

My Am Is Mother 1960 1995 2004

    My Am Is Mother

My am is the link, the mother unfolding.

Into my womb forms from infinity cling

Until ready to re-enter fresh,

Their shield flesh.

Force that brings nature to man.

Yet nature I – creation my husband.

My am is mother. I am the womb man;

I hold in enfoldment all parts of the whole.

I start, impart, I render fresh

Heart-new, re-entering flesh;

New choices, martyrdoms,

Chances to reach from sensual crumbs

To final fulfillment.

I am the merger, love, the converger;

The ohm, the shoal: energy’s soul.

My am is the face of the force.

As mate of creation, death too.

My am is mother.

I am the womb man betrothed to enigma.

Ensconced within, en route to some class,

First slapped on the ass but graced with grace.

They’re born re-faced.

My am is love waiting on the above.

Counted, numbered,

Named and de-slumbered:

And fixed to know or not know,

Because it is so –

I am the fixer, the mixer,

The mother, the womb man.

Death too.

©My Am Is Mother 9.1960/1995/2004

Circling Round Woman; Circling Round Nature;

Birth, Death & In Between; To The Child Mystic; Mother Book;

Arlene Corwin

Look There! My Love!

Look There! My Love!

Look there! My love!

On him – the stage –

Is directive divine;

A duel-dutied cage

To deflect and define.

Tiny fashioned space reflects –

On any given day – absorption

And impression: truths that maya took

Uncounted years to proffer forth.

With eyes to swallow

Lives the mouth.

In complement

Is love transposed

To sound and speech.

Infinitely subtle – this.

The tempered, blended face that

Must react, collect, kiss

And release

Again in endless trust.

The endless task turned easy.

© Love There! My Love! 9.5.1960

Love Relationships;

Arlene Corwin

Inborn Nobility 1960

Inborn Nobility

Inborn nobility, hidden

In gloom, ridden by

Doubt – the blindest accuser.

Smotherer guilt sends the natural mother

To fester in airlessness,

Mute who could care-lessness.

Left with any one second of safety,

The ever-unsleeping one seeps through the pores.

On single moment to breathe, eat and grow on;

Force-fed togetherness, grabbing to go on.

Inborn, no,

Ingrown now.

Doom in a womb;

Knowing indifference, it waits

Unaffectedly; triumphant destiny sates

The dear ruminant.

Lives later some blessed will

Takes the gift.

©Inborn Nobility 60.9.13

To The Child Mystic;

Arlene Corwin

In My World 1960

    In My World

In my world,

The objects I perceive

Are charged with a new

Intensity.

When they read

What I write,

When they enter

My world

The key to my law is this:

Prose is as poetry,

Poetry, prose;

And the images all

Concrete. The search

Is always for concrete

Expression, for concrete

Expression, for concrete

Expression.

My world is real.

Read it as that

Or enter it not.

Man is divine.

Mankind is cruel.

Those who damn us

With labels

Miss out

On a gift-tool.

Justice

For us

Before they decide –

Nothing more,

Nothing less.

Joyful the text

Stands on trial. After all,

For whom

But the human progression

Do our weep-shouts call?

©In My World 60.9.24

To The Child Mystic;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

In Deference 1960

    In Deference

In deference to the natural man

Who can do much more than he does;

Who, setting his potential at

A fraction of what he believes,

Does what he can to

Store and restore wares,

Which, in themselves, bear

Such glow, that although rarely shown,

Soar stars above his most desired end attained;

In reference to the careless manner,

Typically mismanaged,

Typographically mistaken,

Perpetuates the spoof,

The goof

That reaffirms mortality.

©In Deference 1960

To The Child Mystic;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

I’m In The Market For A Love Affair 1960

 

     I’m In The Market For A Love Affair

Verse:

My analyst can explain it,

And I can explain it to him.

It’s getting so I can go for months

Not feeling the need to feed this whim.

Can’t plan, for it’s back before I count to ten.

Knocked flat on my back I scan the world of men.

Oh, bud-like, flower-like man eating plant,

Go peddle you seed elsewhere.

I swear I wear myself out,

In this losing shadow box bout.

Cherchez les homes,

Here I come.

Chorus:

I’m In The Market For A Love Affair.

I go around just looking for a love affair.

I need the making of a love affair,

To keep myself aware of living.

I need the take of giving –

That’s the snare.

My life is one big pink rejection slip –

I may flip!

I know, but still I go around looking, looking,

Finding, finding,

Having, having,

Making, breaking affairs.

I’m In The Market For A Love Affair.

I go around just looking for a love affair.

I get so bored creating love-inducing situations.

Though my creations are a practiced art,

The value they impart

Only frees me –

Temporarily.

How long will youthful blush sustain the strain of time?

The pattern shows,

The cycle flows,

The need still grows,

Love comes and goes away.

Alone I’m left to play the market for a love affair.

 

© I’m In The Market For A Love Affair 1960

Love relationships; Lyrics; Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

 

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