The Miracle Of Turning Fifty 1996 2007

           The Miracle Of Turning Fifty

There’s a miracle in turning fifty:

Half your life is over,

You’ve got fifty years to go.

Maybe forty, maybe thirty;

Wisdom’s exponential.

And while youth goes backwards into time,

You’re reaching your potential.

It’s a fair exchange – no, more than fair.

Fifty’s on the way to there.No more periods that bother,

No more load on you as mother

When you had to drive the kids to school.

Loads you handle with more ease.

Not so many folk to please.

You’ve more capacity,

And all the things that stamp us old

Turn into gold:

Days of humming –

Days to come;

Not right this minute or this hour;

Bit by bit the power waxes.

Isn’t that the large-life goal ?

Fifty starts it all.

It must be said:

You’re the one who makes this bed,

Gardens gladness, fences sadness out or in.

Keeps on looking

So that mind and intellect keep cooking.

You’re the one to feed these drives.

That’s when life can turn on fives.

©The Miracle Of Turning Fifty 96.12.4 revised 07.3.15

A Mystic Visits Thousand Oaks; I Is Always You Is We;

Special People Special Occasions; Birthday Book;

Arlene Corwin



Revised View Of My Parents 1996 2007

              Revised View Of My Parents

A shorthand that I understand,

Essential for my peace of mind:

No more at war with mother’s dark, illogic mind,

No more preferring daddy’s kind

But weak, artistic presence, pleasantries.

Now, today, with daddy clearly

On his way, and mother nearly mad with sadness,

Locked in bed and impotent to run and help,

She eighty-four, he eighty-seven – at death’s door,

Three thousand miles away, derangement his finale.

Now that I know Arlene a bit,

The strengths and tendencies that show,

And some that don’t, I wish to forfeit

All the old complaints and sufferings,

Replacing them with grateful yea’s

For useful gifts and graceful traits,

(The freebees that I took for granted

Or assumed were shaped by ways

Of don’t know what.)

I know now never could have been

If mother had not been exactly

Who she was, and dad the same –

And that does not include my name.

View revised, not over-, undersized,

I’ve re-evaluated mom and dad.

It’s time now to apologize

For thoughts unkind: thoughts just plain bad,

Too analytical and double bound –

A blind unquestioning and double-binding paradox

That locks the brain into the box in which it runs around;

To reach the point where one no longer

Alternates between the passive and aggressive

To feel briefly stronger…

Gone to error’s happy land, left free of frenzied cleft.

Since the honeycomb of home is love,

And all roads lead to Rome,

It is love’s inauguration that has changed my view.

My children, will you need that too?

I do expect you will.

©Revised View Of My Parents 96.8.27.revised 07.4.6

Love Relationships; Mother Book; Pure Nakedness;

Arlene Corwin



It All Evens Out 1996 2007

             It All Evens Out


In the end it all evens out:

The small waist expanding,

The flat pelvis stretching;

Titties – voluptuous, gorgeous –

Now long, flat and bitty.

It all evens out.

The soft rounded stomach, flaccid and stout

Between osteo-brittlized hips,

With mouth that was pouting

Crimped into thin lips –

Corners, which used to go up like a child’s

Now drooping and forced into extra long smiles.

Pudenda so furry, fluffy and fat,

Now balding and naked and open and flat:

Oh dear, how it all evens outs in the end.

Who is your friend?

Not body, that’s clear.

Perhaps it’s the growth of maintaining good cheer,

Peering at mirrors the days that are left

While hair carries on losing color and depth:

The even-ing out.

Skin, the organ that’s largest in spread,

Skin that betrays from the sole to the head;

(Hardening sole, scrofulous head),

Face that was downy with brow fine as satin,

Sprouting its hairs from the forehead to chin

[Which, itself starts to grow]

Getting longer and pointier, moustache and beard

Turning her masculine

While a white balding face turns a him to her twin –

Both balanced out, evened up –

And that’s before life’s had its natural stop.

Thin getting fat, fat getting skinny,

Appetites lose their absorptive power;

Bad eaters piggishly gourmand, scour

Dish, glass and bowl, intestines that growl –

And in both new diseases will flower:

A vaginal stinging, a prostate that grows;

Drifts that were common to both

Have a new deathly partner now pledging its troth.

A common denominator binding the old,

(When in fact, we are sold on the myth

That you needn’t get old let alone dead and cold)

Is leveling everything out,

Where the partner is death, the spouse and the lout.

Should every new moment be lived with a sigh

Or stoic acceptance, with no looking back to the youth that was I,

Observing the trudging of time as we die?

Should changing and passing be followed by movement

Unhindered by doubt:

An ongoing thrust and a laugh and a shout?

The jealousy goes when the chum of your of past

[The one that you thought you would die to be like]

Shows up big, bluff and blowsy, (your envy a waste);

Big, bluff and blowsy, and you’re in your prime.

A waste of your envy, a waste of your time;

The worry of youth informed by despair,

Exploded in puffs when the dreams built on air

Were exposed to the truth

That we all even out in the end.

©It All Evens Out 96.9.2/revised 07.12.18

Birth, Death & In Between; Circling Round Woman; A Sense Of The Ridiculous;

I Is Always You Is We; Circling Round Wrinkles; Circling Round Nature;

Arlene Corwin





You Have To Be Focussed To Live In America 1996

      You Have To Be Focused To Live In America

You have to be focused to live in America –

Things with a capital T so enticing;

Things a delectable, mouth-melting icing.

Energies gone into thing-ing:

Designing and buying, promoting and bingeing –

If they went to non-acquisitional stuff

Instead of this fluff,

The US could work for celestial good;

Accelerate forces of heavenly light.

But thing-ing erosion will bring back the flood;

You have to be focused to live – get it right.

While everyone’s sight is bombarded with thingies

So varied, so many, so darned time consuming!

It’s not that I’m fuming; it’s just that I’m sad.

Such beauty, such bounty – and yet it’s all mad;

I feel such a cad for slinging this dye –

A people so lovely who crave a drug-high.

Oh yes, it is focus you need to live here

In this product-filled country now building its bier.

©You Have To Be Focused To Live In America 96.11.16

Definitely Didactic; Our Times, Our Culture; A Mystic Visits ThousandOaks;

Arlene Corwin

You Have To Be An Idiot 1996


      You Have To Be An Idiot

You have to be an idiot

To shut one’s eyes to death

And dying; going

On with every breath:

Insects crushed, objects caput –

It’s dying from the ebb to flow

Dying cat, clobbered rat or bat or gnat –

Reminds me of the I Arlene,

The Kent of Kent, the Jon of Jon,

And so on. Only morons

Do not think of death,

Do not connect the leaving friends as sign:

The mass

Of flesh you’ve twined

Around yourself that’s passed.

You have to be an idiot – naïve.

We should be contemplating graves,

Treating the day

As if it were the last –

Thirst as the first;

We’re idiots, who think we stay.

Behaving now from actions past

Not concentrating or creating.

My mother said

“I never thought I that I’d be old.”

She cannot walk from A to B.

I hold my tongue.

It would be cruel to scold

Her idiocy.

Drumbeat beats,

Bird tweets,

Angel Death awaits,

And watching all our fates –

Greets all of us.


You Have To Be An Idiot 96.9.18/2006Birth, Death & In Between;

Arlene Corwin




Will I Fly? 1996


     Will I Fly?

Will I fly?

I’ve no way of knowing.

All I know is

I must keep on growing

And expanding,

For without them I will die

Without ever finding out

That I could fly.


Will I Fly? 96.2.22To The Child Mystic; Lyrics;

Arlene Corwin

*later a song with music by Kent Anderson







Why Pine? 1996

      Why Pine?

A man is dying.

My father.

It is his moment.

It, my moment.

While he dies,

Does he think?

I think he doesn’t.

Al’s about inside himself.

He is inside himself.

His dying is his moment.

It is my moment.

When he is dead,

When it is over,

Will it be over

For Albert S. Nover?

If it’s over for Albert S. Nover,

Or if he goes further,

It is still his moment.

And if I shall long for him,

Miss him, evaluate,

Then it is my moment.

He and I, each in our moment

Weaponless to overlap, not even share,

His never to take part in mine, mine his,

Mine here,

His Absolute Forever there:

Bubble-fizz air.

No father/daughter moments paired

Moments. People. Monad bare.




Why pine?

©Why Pine? 96/9/11

Birth, Death & In Between; I Is Always You Is We; Nature In & Of Reality; Love Relationships;

Arlene Corwin


Why I Left You 1996


Why I Left You

I’ve tried to figure out the reason

Why I left you.

Blazoned on my brain’s your treason.

It was that you used to anger,

Flaring up out of the blue,

Which caused me in its turn to smart,

To cry; finally flare up too.

And then you’d stop, expecting that

I’d been uninfluenced by what

Occurred – what we’d been through.

But I’d been changed that little bit,

No longer trusting it

Or you.

The issues were so small, so weeny;

You’d become a monster meany –

And irrational, to boot.

I, with not so high IQ as you

But with integrity my root,

Stood out no more

And closed the door;

And after eighteen years of shouting,

Pouting, sometimes clouting,

Locked my heart and walked on out.


Never have I felt remorse,

Or even housed the slightest doubt.

I’m back to where my nerves are healed,

Since I know now what caused the rift.

The truth about our strife revealed,

My brain has got that little lift

To justify the shift.


Why I Left You 96.7.19Love Relationships;

Arlene Corwin




Why Do We Need To Reveal Ourselves? 1996

     Why Do We Need To Reveal Ourselves?A friend writes his memoirs,

His wife writes her volumes of verse:

Painful, funny.

Stars full of Saturn and Venus; adultery

Handled with lightness and pain,

Depression and mania: lightness again –

There for the world!

Why do we need to reveal ourselves,

Seed the world’s soil with kvetchings and problems,

Conflicts and tears?

To work out our fears?

Leave little gems for our children and theirs –

Gems which help them understate all their cares?

Our lives and our lies:

Why do we need to reveal?

To brag and to name-drop in ways that conceal

Our boasting:


was a stag with his flag ever flying…

A wag with the gag ever shallow;

Life dragged if lag of the minutes was slow…


ate her pills to stay slim in her rhyming.

Once there was time…

Receding, retiring, running away;

Perhaps we reveal to expel all the slime,

Casting bronze busts which fill space in eternity.

Isn’t that silly –

And futile?

©Why Do We Need To Reveal Ourselves? 96.4.4

Love Relationships; I Is Always You Is We; Special People, Special Occasions; Circling Round Vanities;

Arlene Corwin

When I have Nothing To Say 1996


     When I Have Nothing To Say

When I’ve not a thing to say,

But want to practice saying something,

I write reams about the word;

Seems I’m magnetized by word:

Word that’s written, seen and hear.

I don’t question why this is –

It just is. It’s called my nature.

Written, spoken, word’s the thread:

It’s the stead head connector.

It’s the pattern binder; suture;

It takes deepest past to future.

It’s the ultimate corrector,

And protector, and director.

When I’ve not a thing to say,

But need the joy of saying something,

I can start with the absurd,

Flutter like a bird –

If I continue undeterred,

I end up writing on the word.

It’s my nature – unremitting.


When I Have Nothing To Say 96.2.27The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative;

Arlene Corwin


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