Who’s Creating What And How 2008

Who’s Creating What And How*

I hear phrases,

Syllables,

(like Groucho Marx)

Whereas,

An Amos Oz

Hears voices

Which he dresses up

With faces, ears

Etceteras.

 

Once I have had my java,

My Thesaurus

Is my second best companion where

I savor content’s meaning,

Sometimes sensing depth,

The flavor of the month therein.

Who knows how muse amuses self,

With games

She frames,

And tricks

She flicks

At you?

© Who’s Creating What And How 11.22.2008

The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative; Coffee Book;

Arlene Corwin

*after watching an inspiring documentary on Amos Oz.

 

A Metaphysic Of Coffee 2006

A Metaphysic Of Coffee

Real energy or false:
Does the spirit know the difference
When you drink a cup of coffee
Or you eat a wholesome meal?
Does the body know the difference?
Feel adrenal motivation
As a yin thing or a yang?
Does it thank you
Cause you think clear thoughts,
Mop up a room that’s stood for months,
The moths collecting, so to speak?
Or, if body/spirit work together –
Or if all’s been pre-determined,
Does it matter if you peak, flame high,
And die
A little sooner, caffeine’s energy
The source of wonderwork
Creative,
Little you
Could never do?

©The Metaphysics of Coffee 06.3.15
Nature In & Of Reality; Coffee Book;
Arlene Corwin

A Phrase & A Cup Of Coffee 2000

A Phrase & A Cup Of Coffee

A phrase and a cup of coffee
Or a cuppa then a phrase.
It’s a diction to addiction,
One the motor in the other.
So in praise
Of altered states,
Altered heart rates,
Alternate perceptions
One bequeathing t’other,
I would rather give up comforts
Than the wellspring-of-a-brother
To an ode.

©A Phrase & A Cup Of Coffee 00.10.13
The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative; Coffee Book;
Arlene Corwin

All At The Same Time 2007

All At The Same Time

I like to start the day with coffee:
Half black power, half au lait,
Turn on the Beeb, begin a poem.
Taking down a favorite tome-
A little read – I clean the bedroom,
Roam downstairs and get involved.
The menu solved, I wipe the floor
Then jump-rump to piano where
I sit, playing a tune or four.
Go back and start a bread. Then yoga
In a toga or a sweat suit,
Standing on one foot I eat a fruit
Then fetch the radio and go outside
To clip a hedge
And while in motion find I dredge
A title, line, a word or two
From deep within the conscious. Whew!
I saunter back because I’m haunted
By the drive to write it up,
So then, undaunted, drink another cup
(I know it’s bad) of caffeined brew.
(It’s such a pleasant thing to do).
Then turning art toward starting lunch,
Poetic hunch aside, I stretch –
A bit more yoga. Oh, the post:
Walk up the road –four hundred meters.
Smell the air. What could be sweeter?
Well, that’s taken care of most.
It’s flame October, mushrooms wanting to be picked.
I’ve time to rove o’er hill and ditch, bog and moss.
I’ve no success.
Through trudge and brook and mushroom book
I know no longer where to look
And bear my bucket home again, no worse for wear,
Free from care, lungs filled with air.
Resuming chores, my song, my rhyme,
My coffee, yoga – ah, it’s time
To greet my husband, feed the cat,
Giving all my warmth to that.
Feeding husband, cat and me – triple-sided chat for three –
I fall from grace and watch TV
Awhile, then go to bed and read –
Perchance to sleep, to dream – or maybe
Stand ten minutes on my head,
Tell God I want to do His will,
And then at twelve, lie quite, quite still.

©All At The Same Time 95.10.31
Circling Round Nature; Circling Round Woman; Our Times, Our Culture; Coffee Book;
Arlene Corwin

Aspect Of The Morning Coffee 2007

Aspect Of The Morning Coffee

One cup of morning coffee,
Thought is caught
Assuming universal magnitude;
The tiniest,
The wispiest
Most unassuming bud
Worth writing down,
Drawn into exploration.

©Aspect Of The Morning Coffee 07.1.27
Coffee Book; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative;
Arlene Corwin

Bath Talk 2005

Bath Talk

Supposing life
Depended on
Cold baths,
A morning without coffee,
Would you start that day with glee?
If you answered yes,
You’re free.
If you answered no
You’re me.

©Bath Talk 05.2.25
A Sense Of The Ridiculous; Coffee Book; Circling Round Baths;
Arlene Corwin

Celebration Of Admission’s Boast 2004

Celebration Of Admission’s Boast

It’s okay. You may
Say things about yourself –
Nice things.
You’re lying on a pillow ( four!)
Coffee, covers, cozy. You’re
Like royalty.
Warm bath when wanted,
Freezer filled,
Arms proportionate and strong;
Nicely formed, the legs and torso,
Brain cells still accessible.
Muses visit, people too.
You buy a dress whenever you
Desire. You have
Rooms in which to ruminate,
Rooms to drink and masticate;
A lawn, a lake,
A hundred different paths to take,
You needing multiformity.
This celebration of admission’s boast
To boost a confidence and knowledge,
Day to day’s reality
On offer.

©Celebration Of Admission’s Boast 04.1.12
A Sense Of The Ridiculous; Circling Round Woman; Pure Nakedness; Coffee Book;
Arlene Corwin

Coffee: A Conflict of Values 1994

Coffee (A Conflict Of Values)

Catering to a certain need
For stimulation, even relaxation
And the psychic high,
The coffee bean in cool, dark tin,
Fragrance and the oil in
The box or jar or bag’s supply
Of pleasure ought to make the drinker
Think a little about why
The bitter sweet is such a ‘stinker’
In whose absence droops
The mood, the energy, the good;
Drink whose undemanding look
In innocent or gorgeous cup
Creates the nervous, wrecked and ‘hooked’ –
Converting down to up.
Dear, oh dear, I fear
That life with coffee’s here forever;
Symbol of that quiet urge
Insistent – to reach high as sky
Feel the charm of stimulation,
Pleasant conversation’s purge.
To say this has a feeble ring.
Stimulation from a thing?
Surely pleasure comes from other means,
Less addictive than caffeine –
Out of reach of smell, taste, touch
Of java’s clutch (was Java Dutch?)
Of conversation’s time-filled waste;
Something needing not a brew
And not the company of two.
But then, energy from what?
Surely not a coffee pot!
Dear, oh dear, the will is weak
When pleasure lies within the cheek
And one has never learned the art
Of keeping silence in the heart.
Nasty habit! Coffee evil!
Wreaking havoc like the weevil
On plantations of the body.
Devil’s guest! One ought to use you as a test.
You steal upon the cells by stealth,
You speed up heart, adrenals, pulse,
God knows what else?
Claim vitamins, create unhealth
And still the peril lies elsewhere:
Down where habits have their lair;
Where vice meets virtue, mean, excess;
Where the lamest and the sagest
Battle for their piece of peace.
Posing as a social duty,
Threatening in its bitter beauty,
Dear, oh dear, I fear that life
With coffee’s here to stay,
My own cup a mere hour away.
From Macbeth, the coffee oath:
Stir the sugar, stir the milk,
Make the coffee smooth as silk,
Help the migraine, the depression –
Be benign in my transgression.
Tranquilize away confusion,
Make gregarious the nation.
Cof-free, cof- fiend? enemy, friend?
Or just coffee
And what you make it to be?

©Coffee (A Conflict Of Values) 94.4.21
Definitely Didactic; Coffee Book;
Arlene Corwin

Creative Process

Creative Process

We sit around; cup after cup
Discuss and grope,
Grope and discuss:
Is it God or is it us,
Nature’s biogenesis the mystery of cycles,
Wrench of will the magic drop?
In any case,
The thing we face we can’t control:
Grace – where the body plays key role.
What is creation?
Is it always something new?
Is there ever repetition?
Is ‘new’ spontaneity – there on Monday, not on Tuesday?
Schumann’s mad, and still he writes.
Beethoven fights filled with curses.
Can’t rehearse – yet he rehearses.
Schubert writes, his flat half-frozen.
Can he help that he is ‘chosen’?
Genius forms despite itself;
Keeps the paper on the shelf,
Pencil present, fingers ready.
Even blind, with nerves unsteady
Strapping paintbrush to the wrist,
Memorizing palette sequence,
Using power’s dispensary
In mists of expectation.
Write, dance, paint, sing – what you will,
They don’t keep still, except inside,
For in the cyclone spiral-eye
Creation starts its spiral ride
From vacuum to a world outside.
Using worry, debt, depression,
Fused to their inverted states.
Writing, playing, painting is the ruse
To bring about those states.
Lying to shake off the cold;
Aspirin, coffee – anything’s allowed
That gets a hold on energy and focus.
Just to be there is a way to “Open Sesame!”
And though it is passivity,
At least passivity is presence.
Creativity needs presence, presence creativity.
Pardon the tautology,
But letting thinking flow
Is equal to what mankind knows,
What ancients knew eons ago.
Trite goes to trite, deep goes to deep,
Wise like the wise, the sleepy sleep:
Like goes to like.
We all have influence somewhere
On circles scarcely sensed.
You never know who’ll be the one.
The real law gets all things done.
Read, look, touch, smell, feel, listen:
Let in every oscillation.
You don’t know what word, what hush,
Which syllable will start the gush
Of art-filled spontaneity.
Everything is beauty
And a specimen of truth.
Secret is to see and use it,
Take it from the arcane sooth
To modern idiom and youth.
Inner order is the feature
Folding vision into creature;
Hidden secrets always there:
Rhythms not always transparent –
Inner order has its rhythm.
Skill belongs to those
Who, like the clogged up hose,
Wait for that drop to flow
Then flood, forcing new veins.

Tainted motives last awhile,
Purity runs the whole mile.

There’s a bank, the past before you –
Take that store to use and store.
We all start out a little fake, take
And work and wind up ‘true’. Work and wait.
Cyclic, shifting time is fate.
There is a product in the end
That says ‘I am’. And
Since you never step into
The same effluvial direction twice,
The product is as artist was:
A slice of now-ness,
Spliced with interweaving strands
Of overlapping chunks of texture,
Form and color: language wands
Of elegant expressiveness,
Personal
And universal.

©Creative Process 95.4.21
The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative; Definitely Didactic; Coffee Book;
Arlene Corwin

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