Arlene Corwin Poetry

A headstand everyday;

A line or two or three or four;

A letter, poem, a short essay;

A lyric learned, a song, a chord;

A meal made, some panties washed,

A mantra said. Negation quashed.

Anything to squash the guilt

That builds from projects still undone,

Objectives hardly yet begun

From duties felt and fears that tilt

At weaknesses of mind that push

And rush at mind; that build up stress

Forge gaps in mind-access.

Any way to use the time,

To find the balance:

Spontaneity and planning,

Creativity and plotting;

Habit, too much energy or plodding.

Any way to squelch the spree;

Anxiety opaque as fog.

Ok, to headstands, sit-ups

Now I’ve learned a bit

About the body’s load,

Its downhill road.

Ok, the letter to a friend

Now that some friends have met their end.

Ok, to poem that halts the drain

Of healthy enzymes from the brain

Now that I’ve seen what brain can do

When cells have shrunk. It could be you.

Ok, to song sung everyday,

To keep at bay the wobbling note

That comes from age and unused throat.

And when there’s silence in the bed,

Ok, to mantras in the head.

To practice is the practice.

The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative; Vaguely About Music;

Arlene Corwin