Thinking On Your Feet Is 2013

Thinking On Your Feet Is

Gift, art, yoga;

Leading to a

Modus operandi,

Jazz,

Invention,

A defining fun.

Creation in a flash;

Living

In a now,

No deed is left undone,

Not one day gone,

Neglected or unloved.

Thinking fleetly on your feet,

Eliminates, eradicates:

Fear of fiasco,

Worry, stress, for not one

Thing can fail you;

Neither falling on your bottom

In the middle of your show

Or whatever else you’re doing.

Trivial and valuable –

It’s all significant,

While none of it means anything at all;

The usual

Illogicality.

Years of practicing

Improvisation

Mean that

Error’s never really wrong,

So

Practice,

Use life as an etude.

Make etude of every song.

Life plays.

Thinking On Your Feet 10.10.2013

Definitely Didactic; Vaguely About Music II; Circling Round Yoga;

Arlene Corwin

Getting Bored 2013

Getting Bored

I get bored so easily.

When playing a tune

Nine hundred times,

I’ve just got to change it.

Improvising, that’s the name.

Who can do the same life in, life out?

We need to change – a good thing.

We are variety machines.

Change can be nuance –

Nothing big; subtle, slow in coming.

But, if you’ve got the talent and the ear

You hear: inventing, extemporizing,

Winging-it, ad-libbing ad libitum.

Creatively and on the spot

You feel you’ve got

To make up something new

To satisfy you, and

Oh, it quenches:

The worn replaced, its freshness

Making you  a happy fledgling; re-born.

Lose the fear!

It’s here you want to chase it.

Clinch the moment.

Let boredom take you to the next

Bewitching instance.

Getting Bored 7.20.2013

Vaguely About Music II; Definitely Didactic; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;

Arlene Corwin

All The Way From Sweden 2012

All The Way From Sweden

 

All the way from Sweden

I can’t help but natter on:

Poetry and

Jazz and

Being,

Flying there to meet you and present myself

Out of the question.

Sitting

In my white

Room eating

Home-baked buttered roll with cheese,

Drinking cups of tea

To please my knife

And spoon and cup,

Eat, drinking up

While writing –

This because I like to share,

Not being able to transport myself

To where

You are.

 

Jazz: the art of improvising;

Mindfulness – a Zen.

The song a mantra/koan,

A yogic thing one ought to do

While in the bath,

While on the road, in bed

Or looking through the window

At a cloud:

Everything and anything a jazz.

 

Life: the distance

Between seconds,

Record kept inside your cells

And held there

All the years of breath,

The is your wealth

In  action.

 

All The Way From Sweden 4.18.2012

Vaguely About Music II; Swedish Book;

Arlene Corwin

Rhapsodizing Confusion 2012

Rhapsodizing Confusion

 

He sits there rhapsodizing,

Music going

On and on,

Theme scarcely clear.

What he needs in an arrangement,

Inner order,

Something to hang on to,

An internal girder, welder, builder,

Candor, some reminder to bind

A to b to c to d and finally to z:

An end and means to send it,

End it.

 

Is it rhapsody, improvisation?

His seems like bewilderment and misperception

Fueled by laidback lack of fire

Fused by movement going nowhere.

He thinks he was Socrates,

Calls it jazz.

We drown in his repose.

I think if I were in his clothes

I’d agonize, I’d make some noise.

No, he keeps on and on,

Just playing, rhapsodizing

In confusion.

 

Rhapsodizing Confusion 8.14.2012

Vaguely About Music II;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

A Jazz Musician Poet 2008

    A Jazz Musician Poet

Hearing phrases, language read,

Seeing emails as a rhythm,

Alphabetic combinations that I cry from,

Are the bridges I feed on.

© A Jazz Musician Poet 9.9.2008

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

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.

Refrain:

Soul music may have heart,

Soul music may be smart;

Soul music may be art –

But not necessarily so.

Disdain:

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

Too.

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

Vaguely About Music;

Arlene Corwin

 

The Trick Is To Stay Fresh 1994

           The Trick Is To Stay Fresh

I heard a band four decades old.

“Good God, I thought, what a good band!”

How do they do it? Forty years?

What do they think night after night

When each man steps up to the stand –

Night after night his horn in hand,

Old licks, clichés

Takes his solos even on the days

His wife is sick?

And still they’re slick and stick it out

Night after night, year after year,

Internal tensions always there.

It must be like a factory job,

To entertain the drinking mob.

Or maybe not.

Maybe jobs have been a ball,

A chance to leave four walls,

Create, maintain a freshness,

Make some music on the spot,

Feelings tapped, without pretence;

Spontaneous, and proud of what

The dents he’s chalked up on his horn

All signify.

Perhaps, instead of blasé scorn

He manages to like the crowd –

The drunks, the dancers raw and loud.

Maybe the leader has charisma –

Makes each guy feel that he’s good;

Shows respect for solos

Drummer, sax or trumpet blows;

Drumming, blasting, bellowing.

By hook or crook, the trick’s eternal:

Keep the kernel of renewal growing,

Tapped and showing;

Ever crowing.

The trick is to stay fresh.

©The Trick Is To Stay Fresh 94.11.30

Vaguely About Music;

Arlene Corwin

 

 

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