Husband, Lover, Friend And Mate 1962

Husband, Lover, Friend And Mate

Husband, lover, friend and mate,
All I ask is that you wait –
Ever watchful and involved,
As your problems drop off – solved.

©Husband, Love, Friend And Mate 62.8
Love Relationships;
Arlene Corwin

Glory Be 1962


   Glory Be

Words come first.

Through truth came words.

Through words comes truth,

Communion booth

And market stall.

I have not taken up with names.

They seem to make too many claims.

They tear me into little bits,

Intimidate, tear at my wits.

I have not take up with ‘writer’,

Yet have written words and words;

And words must man I am a writer.

Glory be, I am a writer!



Glory Be 62.7.18Pure Nakedness; The Processes; Creative, Thinking, Meditative;

Arlene Corwin


Blues 1962



Maybe I have not suffered enough;

Maybe I just ‘ain’t got the stuff’.

But if that’s the case,

If that is the case

I’ve been wasting the taste

Of life that I’ve had –

And that’s too bad.

Words come in a single blow,

The flow of all I’ve learned.

And all that I’ve learned

Is all that I’ve lived;

If that’s not enough,

If that is not enough,

I’ve been wasting the taste

Of life that I’ve had –

And that’s too bad.

Where do I go from here?

What do I do for now?

Somebody lend an ear.

Somebody lift a brow.

©Blues 62.9.17


Arlene Corwin

Ah, Love #6 1962

                  Ah, Love #6

Ah, Love! May I address you as a friend?

Which who is most in all the world?

Do you float up and blend in,

Are you conjured up within, then hurled

Without? When love ends, who comes first, you, me?

Friend, tell me how I may ascend

To heights one lives in love’s glad company?

Ah, Love! May I address you as a friend?

Are you so distanced, as to send

Me back to my own selfdom’s snare?

You ulti-mate bait, is that why

you’re there?

© Ah, Love 1962

Love Relationships; To The Child Mystic;

Arlene Corwin

To The Soul Not Yet Whole 1962

       To The Soul Not Yet Whole

If swingin’s

All you’re bringin’

To music,

That’s not art,

But only part.

Or change your bit:

That isn’t it,

That’s only sham.

That is, if swingin’s

All you bring

To music.


Soul music may have heart,

Soul music may be smart;

Soul music may be art –

But not necessarily so.


Swing, man, hard and loud,

But man, you’re clinging to a cloud.

Call horn x,

Call music y,

Call yourself small letter i.

Remember son,

You modern soul,

The abstraction,

Means, the goal –

The three in one

Is solely you.

Practice one or all of these,

For art is born of one-in-threes.

Love will do,

And horn will do,

And absoluting you will do


©To The Soul Not Yet Whole (on hearing a record by Charlie Mingus) 1962

Vaguely About Music;

Arlene Corwin


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