Everyday’s A Phase

Sorry, if I seem to produce too much.  With putting stuff online, I know one’s public has a saturation point.  Can’t stop it;  ideas keep coming and with experience and practice, technique keeps growing, in the growing comes a flowing and poof – out comes a poem.  Not necessarily the most refined, but that’s okay.  I can and do forever tinker…

             Every Day’s A Phase

 Every day’s a phase – nothing but.

The moon unfazed goes thirty days

With shadowed light a-waxing, -waning,

Straining not, just losing, gaining,

Noticeably self-contained.

 

You and I, the Gershwins said,

“We sweat and strain, bodies all aching racked with pain”.

  1. (that’s me) augments with comments,

“You and I, we wish too much,

Not accepting or in touch

With our restraints;

Not what we are nor what we ain’t.”

 

Satisfied is not complaisance.

Compliance, maybe – not complaisance.

Satisfied; acceptance, ease;

Being pleased with whatsoever.

You’re not clever, not the Saviour?

So be it!

You’re not a nitwit for all that.22

You’re not great at what you do?

Screw it!

You are great in ways to praise.

Nothing stays, since everyday’s a phase

And nothing but.

Everyday’s A Phase 11.28.2017 Nature Of & In Reality; Arlene Corwin

 

 

 

 

;

 

 

 

Night Thought 2013

Night Thought

Your friends will watch you growing old

And love you [anyway, in spite of, for…]

(Darkening over-lip, hairs on chin

Unseen by changing lenséd eyes)

Love you between thick and thin,

Fat and sick, not picky about outer things.

Strangers will not know the difference

Between what you were and are,

Not caring and why should they?

Aging, growing old, maturing –

(Verbs you use, show mind that’s yours,

For verbs you choose are mind that’s yours.)

In any case, grow old and let it!

House no attitude about it –

None at all,

at all,

at all.

(that’s supposed to be an echo

bouncing back on walls of time)

Attend to something else and grow.

Night Thought 6.10.2013

Definitely Didactic; Circling Round Time II; Circling Round Wrinkles; Circling Round Reality;

Arlene Corwin

,

Seventy & Eight

 

Seventy and eight:

You’ve definitely

Set aside some vanity.

What is it but priority?

And some priorities have changed.

It’s called acceptance.

Skin that’s re-arranged itself

Without permission.

When you’re nearing birthdays

Each and every

Twelvth damned month,

You shun

The cant if you’re observant.

This has that… and that’s a pain,

Marriages have come and gone,

You’ve eaten everything on offer.

Gone the need to entertain

The suffering’s more neutralized;

So many friends and kin have died.

You’ve channeled drives

That used to thrive on pleasure.

With a birthday coming up

You’re going down each second’s unit

So immeasurably tiny you can’t count it.

Here is where it gets didactic:

Birthdays coning up – don’t hope but have it.

As for vanity, retract it.

That’s it.

 

Seventy & Eight 10.28.2012

Birthday Book; Circling Round Vanities II; Birth, Death & InBetween II;

Arlene Corwin

Things Are What They Are 2012

Things Are What They Are

 

My friend, no philosopher, says

“Things are what they are.”

My friend is sick.

She’s been that way through thin and thick.

Cheerful, never caustic,

Waving a finger at God,

She sends me her dyslexic letters,

Glad and positive.  She’s good.

 

Thinks are really what they are:

Nothing more.

 

Things Are What They Are 8.9.2012

Circling Round Reality;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

On Looking For A Gig 1994

        On Looking For A Gig

I discovered it today: vanity and expectations.

Disappointment when they don’t

(The expectations) come or go

My way. I suddenly came to a truth

That I can only call, “Why not?”

Why not walk in and say to all:

The bosses, folk – “Well, here I am, so take my gift!

I give a lift and here’s my name!”

If no one cares, no one’s to blame.

I ought to say “it’s all the same”.

I don’t.

I fuss. Today I cussed.I don’t know why I thought they’d say

“Of course you get the job. Come by

Tomorrow. Start at once.”

I didn’t get to see the man, the guy, the  chief

And forced away without a fief,

I stalked way like some old thief.

They say they’ll call. They seldom do.

That slap says, “Who the hell are you?”

And here I’m always thinking that my presence is enhancing.

Jobs are few, the money low.

I’m either doing something wrong

Or God is stopping this whole show for my protection.

“Screw the song”, He’s saying.

There are hundreds, thousands more equipped,

More talented, more single-minded. Shut your lip!

You’re ordinary. That’s your fate!

Stay at home! Develop! Wait!

Don’t overestimate position, -something’s phony ‘bout position –

It is not a fixed condition; no condition ever is.

Throw away the sword, its thrust for world reward.

Never fixed, things swing twixt and between

The past and now. You ordinary silly cow,

Cook your meals! Stay at home!

Write your ordinary poem.

Be happy ‘cause it feels nice

Just sitting at your beans and rice,

Not judging, striving, in the race,

Thanking God that you survive

This summer day. You saw a hare,

A baby – eating on the lawn.

You saw a mist-fair dawn

Descending on the lake outside.

Stay home, and hide!

Create and take the ordin- as a lotion

On your skin.

You’re not a star,

You’re just the creature that you are

Amid the circumstances ’round you,

Go to ground, eat up, get fat!

Go and buy a summer hat!

My final counsel.”

©On Looking For A Gig 94.6.8

Vaguely About Music; Circling Round Vanities;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

Disappointment 1995

 

     Disappointment

You get the news. Not nice.

No one’s there with aid, advice.

You care/you don’t.

No one’s there to steer your mood.

What’s good, to care or not?

You look for some device

To still the mind.  Still, mind reacts:

A shoulder slumps, a knuckle’s cracked,

To dampen tears, the stomach cramps.

Sure, you’re philosophic.

Sure, you know enough to stop it:

Cause/effect, etcetera.

And still a migraine comes that night –

Nausea, recoil from light,

Muscles in the neck that tighten,

Pain that heightens while you sleep –

A sagging heap

Who cannot even creep from bed to get an aspirin.

Was it salt? Or tea?

Hormone insufficiency – any bio-chemistry?

Would it have come in any case?

Or do you find it hard to face:

You’re less developed than you think,

A trace of childhood ruling.

Brace yourself! Pull up your socks! This isn’t school.

You thought the job

Was yours and you could hob-nob

With your peers this once.

You feel a dunce –

Unworthy, unimportant,

Easily ignored, made sport of.

That’s the sort of thing that hurts

With no one’s skirts to hide behind.

You’d like to think that all that happens

Happens for the good, but there’s that cosmic silence;

Not a single sign of pay,

And there you’re left with just the day,

Forced to smile and nod assent,

Trying not to secrete bile

Trying not to sing lament.

Once again the gates of fate say wait:

There will be fire in the grate,

Fish will nibble at the bait,

Jobs will come another date.

Not in control. That is the sting.

One thing is king –

And it’s not you.

©

Disappointment 95.3.24Pure Nakedness; Vaguely About Music;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

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