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Friday, 09 October 2015

Why I am What I am

By Arlene Corwin of Arlene Corwin Poetry

A part of me that likes to serve:
Cook for… with love,
Lie cheek to cheek,
Examine issues heart-to-heart
In company.

I am my hormones.

Part of me that must create,
Contemplate
In pictures or ideas.

Ambitions that lack logic.
Drives beyond the rational,
There, to take for granted,
Used by, using one:

I am my brain.

Part of me submissive, part adaptive -
Part of all the verbs in English.
There’s a part that points
To faith,
A part that’s dared to take
To take the f-word in my mouth.

I am my instincts.

Part of me likes coffee –
Not for smell or taste – no gourmet I -
But kick of, quick of energy:
The quality sine qua non.

In summary,
Not many
Are the manifested qualities
Expanding or reducing.

Hints of blossoming.
To be continued.

* * *

[INVITATION: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. Please read instructions for submitting.]

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 05:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post

Comments

Well that certainly explains it, I think because I am my brain, or is my brain me??

I have to disagree with the definitions: my hormones are part of the physical me, my instincts are part of the me that is not brain but mind. Mind, perhaps, is me ... and perhaps I read too many neuroscience articles that I don't really understand. Huge subject, can't be reduced to these definitions.

I enjoyed your new poem.
kæerlig hilsner. queta

This 'I' business is tricky. Naturally this hormones, instincts, brain are not the 'I'. And yet they seem to be in partnership with the watching part (which I myself have experienced) which is probably the 'I' behind all these components, components controlled by genes, environment, tendencies, your fate itself.
Yes, tricky and impossible to be encompassed in one poem. I suppose that's why I have 14 published books and so many thematic collections in my computer. Each poem grasps a thread and when I've finished a poem it always feels like I've said the whole - but yet I know I haven't.

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