17 Feb 2009 Leave a comment
in 2009, circling round nature, swedish book Tags: 2009, circling round nature, swedish book
Observation In The February Swedish Sun
Skin
In the sun,
Vitamin D
Beckoning.
I feel walk-ier already.
Two thousand nine,
Twelve, February:
Six new months of sun-high sky.
July and then,
Less ‘D’ for me,
My brittling bones to own
And tighten:
Just an observation.
© In The February Swedish Sun 2.12.2009
Circling Round Nature; Swedish Book;
Arlene Corwin
29 Jan 2009 Leave a comment
in 2008, cat book, small stories book, swedish book Tags: 2008, cat book, small stories book, swedish book
Animal Friend
My sister in-law says that
She’s become a better matte,(Matte* as in patt-er)
“I am ninety percent better!”
Sixty-six, and got a kitten
Which she handles as if it
Were human.
Standards lower –
(“I allow her to destroy the flowers”)
Tolerant;
Perfectionism once demanded
Compromised and compromising.
Chair torn, a little scratched,
It is that cat has hatched some fun.
House-proud
, house-proud no more,My sister in-law now detached,
The ironed shirt, the polished floor
A laid-back effort,
Ninety percent better than before.
*a female pet owner, husse being the male equivalent i.e. the mommy and daddy
© Animal Friend 3.24.2008
Cat Book; Small Stories Book; Swedish Book;
Arlene Corwin
Djur Vän
Svägerskan säger
“Har blivit bättre matte:”
Nittio procent bättre.
Nu sextio sex med katt unge,
Som behandlas som manniska.
Sänkt standard, blommor förstörs,
Perfektionism en gång funnits:
Nu kompromisser.
Skrapade stolar, sönder rivet –
Har katten haft roligt!
Hemstolt, hemstolt, inte mer!
Svägerskan nu likgiltig – nästan.
Strukna skjortan, bonat golv –
Vem bry sig?
Nittio procent bättre an förr.
Translated by Kent Anderson
11 Jan 2009 Leave a comment
in 1997, our times our culture, special people special occasions, swedish book Tags: 1997, I Is Always You is We, special people special occasions, swedish book
When Guest Is Gone
When guest is gone
And you’ve been a good hostess,
And been, as they say,
The host with the ‘mostess’;
Done all you can for the sake of
The fun and the best for the guest,
Cooking and chatting and eating with zest,
Osmosing the beauty connected with duty;
Voiced every boast that can come from a host
With good will and good cheer
And your very best beer,
In the strain to provide entertainment;
Guest gone and all’s been done;
You’re glad to go back, change the clocks;
A tad sad –it’s natural
A paradox.
When guest is here, the atmosphere,
Is prejudicial to deep peace:
Superficial.
The wish to fill the bill kills stillness.
Even conversations true
Must tire the guest and tire you.
You’ve done your best;
And he’s gone home again to rest,
Happy to return.
And even though he’s learned and earned
On this ten day vacation week –
Skin now brown where it was bleak,
A new found language, so to speak –
He’s been away from the old clique,
And glad to travel back to Hackney
Where the journey first excited:
Coming back’s the thing,
The yearning to be on the wing
Replaced by ‘Happy to be home!’
When week has gone,
Both guest and host hone normalcy:
Remembering the sun, the rain,
Mosquito pain, the false champagne,
The Nordic sun that didn’t wane,
The foal’s white mane
Looking to a next again.
These days refrain a memory.
©
When Guest Is Gone (Rod) 97.8.13I Is Always You Is We; Special People, Special Occasions; Swedish Book;
Arlene Corwin
11 Jan 2009 Leave a comment
in 1997, circling round nature, our times our culture, small stories book, swedish book Tags: 1997, circling round nature, our times our culture, small stories book, swedish book
Waiting For Spring #1
It’s April and it’s snowing.
Extraordinary that!
The snow is thick and growing,
And my husband says, “It’s only rain.
A little white – but going.
He’s just changed to summer tires.
Wind is blowing.
Shame, if on his way to work
His auto needed towing.
These are funny times, I think,
With nothing to rely on.
Weather-wise, they really stink.
The planet’s gone awry, on
Top of which the baddies
Are increasing all the time,
Diverting scientific steam
To search for groups to spy on.
Dear, oh dear, while lying here
The snow continues piling:
Up and up and up and up
While I continue smiling.
Snow has charm. One could
Describe it as beguiling,
That despite the forecast.
It’s an occupation in itself,
This waiting for the buds.
Proof will be a game of golf
And features about floods;
Flowers on the forest floor,
Fledglings for the cat;
Preferences for milky fare
And victual without fat,
And everything
That comes with spring –
I’m waiting for all that.
Still, it’s April twenty-third.
Rising snow is right outside.
The wood stove is prop-full of birch,
The golf clubs stand untried.
I had hot porridge as a snack.
I needed something warm.
Spring, why are you holding back
Your green and floral charm?
Arlene Corwin
11 Jan 2009 Leave a comment
in 1997, circling round nature, our times our culture, small stories book, swedish book Tags: 1997, circlng round nature, our times our culture, small stories book, swedish book
Waiting For Spring
Will spring never come? It’s April and it’s snowing.
Snow is thick and growing, and my husband says,
“It’s only rain; a little white – but going.”
He’s just changed to summer tires. Wind is blowing.
Shame, if on his way to work his auto needed towing.
These are funny times, I think, with nothing to rely on.
Weather-wise, they really stink. The planet’s gone awry, on
Top of which the baddies are diverting steam
To search for groups to spy on.
Dear oh dear, while lying here
The snow continues piling:
Up and up and up. One could
Describe it as beguiling –
That despite the forecast.
It’s an occupation in itself, this waiting for the buds.
Proof will be: a game of golf and features about floods,
Flowers on the forest floor, fledglings for the cat,
Preferences for milky fare and victuals without fat;
Everything that comes with spring –
I’m waiting for all that.
Still, it’s April twenty-third; rising snow is right outside.
The wood stove’s full of birch and the golf clubs stand untried;
I had porridge as a snack. I needed something warm.
Spring, why are you holding back your lime-y green and floral charm?
©Waiting For Spring 97.4.23
Circling Round Nature; Our Times, Our Culture; Small Stories Book; Swedish Book;
Arlene Corwin
11 Jan 2009 Leave a comment
in 1997, circling round time, nature of & in reality, our times our culture, small stories book, special people special occasions, swedish book Tags: 1997, circling round time, nature of & in reality, our times our culture, small stories, special paopel special occasions, swedish book
The Long, Long Sundays Facing Time
“Sundays are so long!”
It’s time again. It’s Time again.
My mother in-law loathes that time.
Unsolvable and cloudy time;
Time shrouded in ennui so
Deep, she is a stagnant dynamo,
Helplessness so stamped on
Soul that all the day is drab –
No matter what the sun.
What is this ‘time’ interpretation
If not bad translation straight from cell to day, the stab
At self-enjoyment or employment
Minimized to sleeping, waking,
Cooking, eating, making
Number one and number two;
TV, phoning: things to do.
Sundays are so long –
Shortened by a family visit.
Otherwise it’s sitting at the window.
Street that stands outside the house
Stands for six days in the week.
Families, drunks; the closet
Hours that dose the bleak
With meaning masked inside.
Mother in-law, eighty-three –
A you, a me.
It isn’t just to hide from ticking time which tocks outside
But lives inside, but baring breast to morning
Join the ripple in the stream
Where standing still, you never feel
The river’s ripple twice the same:
Infinity within that frame.
The drawn out sitting, pained and bare,
Automizing childhood prayer
Stales, when you fail to square off
With the long, long Sundays facing time.
©
The Long, Long Sundays Facing Time 97.8.24Our Times, Our Culture; Nature Of & In Reality; Time; Swedish Book; Small Stories; Special People, Special Occasions;
Arlene Corwin
11 Jan 2009 Leave a comment
in 1997, our times our culture, small stories book, special people special occasions, swedish book, Uncategorized Tags: 1997, our times our culture, small stories book, special people special occasions, swedish book
The Long, Long Sundays Facing Time
“Sundays are so long!”
It’s time again.
It’s Time again.
My mother in-law loathes that time;
Unsolvable and cloudy time;
Time shrouded in ennui so deep
She weeps; a stagnant dynamo.
Helplessness so stamped upon
Her soul that all the day is drab,
And that, no matter what the sun.
What is this time if not translation,
Reason’s weak interpretation
Straight from cell to day, the stab
At self-enjoyment and employment
Dulled to waking,
Cooking, eating, sitting making
Number one and number two;
Viewing, phoning: things to do.
The Sundays are so long,
Street that stands outside the house
Stands for six days in the week.
Families, drunks are sights that that dose
Existence bleak
With meaning that eludes her.
Mother in-law, eighty three
Could be me.
To hide from time-which-lies outside,
Which-lies-inside, not baring breast
To morning, joining ripples in the stream,
Where standing still you never feel
The river’s ripple twice the same,
Infinity within that frame,
Makes automizing the Lord’s Prayer
Bare, pale,
A jail of long, long Sundays doing time.
©The Long, Long Sundays Facing Time 97.8.24/03.11.23
Our Times, Our Culture; Special People, Special Occasions; Swedish Book;
Small Stories Book;
Arlene Corwin
10 Jan 2009 Leave a comment
in 1997, birth death & in between, circling round nature, nature of & in reality, swedish book Tags: 1997, birth death & in between, circlng round nature, nature of & in reality, swedish book
Placed there or dropped by a gull
And ignored; once fresh and full
Getting meager and dull,
It’s almost the same
As the day that it came,
But the entrails have started to go.
(Are they ‘entrails’? I really don’t know.)
Of course it has innards: the roe and the gall,
A liver – I guess – and a stomach.
I think it’s a pike. It may be a perch. It isn’t a haddock.
The thing that’s essential, its cardinal what-nessIs something that shows when I pass it:
Falls in on itself in its ‘rot’-ness.
Arlene Corwin
28 Dec 2008 Leave a comment
in 2007, mother book, small stories book, swedish book Tags: 2007, small stories, swedish book
Speaking Of Essence
Essence has a kind of maths –
A nucleus expressed in faith:
The star
That follows
Who you are
And what.
We visit the botanic gardens, me, you, mother in-law.
She says “They don’t sweep the paths”.
In a café, as she sits there –
It’s the sweeping,
Not the sweets she eats there.
Café clean, there’s nothing more.
Before the food, it is the floor.
Nothing matters
But the splatters,
And her essence has no peace
Until, unless
A spirit comes to move her.
©Speaking Of Essence 07.10.25 (revised from 99.6.14)
Mother Book; Small Stories Book; Swedish Book;
Arlene Corwin
28 Dec 2008 Leave a comment
in 2007, love relationships, mother book, special people special occasions, swedish book Tags: 2007, love relationships, mother book, special people, swedish book
Sister In-Law
Caretaker her essence:
Mother ninety-three,
Grand-daughter, three – about,
Two adult sons and husband,
Ailing aunt, now gone,
And on and on.
I don’t know two like that!
Born to wash an aging skin,
Break in a baby to existence;
What comes out at either end,
There’s no repulsion, fear or sloth –
She’s there to do whatever…
What is needed, when it’s needed,
Feeding tired souls and bodies.
I’m inspired.
She, all simple goodness, if you will.
It’s free.
I’m lucky to be witness.
©Sister In-Law 07.4.10
Special People Special Occasions;
Love Relationships;
Mother Book;
Swedish Book;
Arlene Corwin
Arlene Corwin Poetry 