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June 2019

Unburied Life

Unburied Life

 

He wrote about armies

Fighting at midnight

Unable to tell friend from foe

Because of darkness

Sound familiar?

It might as well

When we fight, we own new

Ignorance of combatants

One human to another

Well, we can tell, someone will say

We have technology

But protocols and fail-safes fail

And that’s not what I mean

I speak to you and me

Wondering about our chances

When we go up

Against each other

 

C L Couch

 

 

“Dover Beach” and “The Buried Life” are poems by Matthew Arnold, British social critic of the nineteenth century.

 

Image by Marei Sellin from Pixabay

 

1

Recollect

Recollect

 

Sometimes the spirit isn’t there

The pressure of zeitgeist,

Although, maintaining

Sometimes it’s just a mortal day

With bread that burns and

Coffee spills,

Liquid things that stain

It’s a day for paying money that

Might or might not exist

(such is the way of penury

to make us all impoverished

mischiefs), though we have to

Try something

 

But then

The spirit’s always there

Always here

God is inclined to stay

Underneath the window sill

Or in the corner where

We pushed the table

(insert a cartoon image)

Ready to intrude

But staying everything

For reason and for love

Until we scrape the bread

And remember that in many places

Still

We can always raise the sash

Or make space in the corner

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Nadia Valko on Unsplash

 

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Fairy Story Inventory

Fairy Story Inventory

(at the treasure trove)

 

I think if I had to choose

(and I could choose at all)

I’d rather take the shield

Raised up, it will keep the rain off

 

On my back, it protects

From surprises from coming on behind

It will carry water from the stream

And serve as a plate for food

When I lay down, it could

Raise my head off the ground

 

It’s easier to breathe that way

 

Without the blade, I don’t know if I’d win

An exalted place in the story

The dragon would not be slain

Though I’d have protection from its flame

I’d likely not survive the war

Or be welcomed to the army

Of a conqueror

 

But I could serve a different kind of lord

I could not kill

But could protect such a one

From the rain or whatever else

Might fall upon us

 

C L Couch

 

 

Spear, Dagger, Sword and Shield at Arakkal Museum. Photo by me, Shijaz Abdulla.

Shijaz at the English Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=11946402

 

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Cool Runnings

Cool Runnings

 

It’s another dark day

Outside not inside

Inside the lamps are lit

Casting glows that make

Me think of a winter day

Someone should be telling

Stories next to the

Fire (there is no fireplace)

At least it will be a day

For imagination

Summer is a few days away

The forecast calls for

Temperatures in the eighties

But inside I will think

Of cold

Of wanderers across a frozen

Waste of buried land, aiming for

A rescue so that there

Might be a chance of home

After the questing’s done

It’s a day for a lengthy

Story

Maybe you will join me

Tell me yours

 

C L Couch

 

 

Image of Diana Wall

By Byron Adams – Portrait, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=48699119

 

0

Settle Down

Settle Down

 

I feel the presence

Noun without a pronoun

Deserving all descriptors

Even ones that might not

Sound so nice

Remembering that while God

Is a friend, God is

Worthy of all fear and respect

It’s Sunday, but it could be Monday

Any day

I guess maybe I slowed up a little

As Christians in the USA sometimes

Do, the day made even

Quieter by the promise of rain

Darkening the sky and

Limiting light on the street

So nature helps

With something we might find

Inconvenient,

Waiting for the rain

And then the rain

 

I’m stretching out my lower back

A little

While I think

While looking at the darkened sky

The leaves a darker color, too

Second verse, I think

No coded needed or repeat

Let’s enjoy this moment

As a present thing

And as something given

(two-parts gift)

By everything that’s come before with

Some attuning to new day

 

C L Couch

 

 

The Beethoven monument at the Donauinsel remembers Beethoven’s symphony No. 5.

Herzi Pinki – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=41427679

 

0

Giveth

Giveth

 

I’d rather write about how

The gift of God is

Given on this day in the first

Moment

It is the day itself and more

Opportunities in time

In a culture of newness

So that good things might grow

I know we think of cultures

(the kind in Petri dishes)

For disease

But we might also harvest and

Turn (as on a potter’s wheel)

Cures,

Once everything is studied

And we prudently co-try

Many things

 

C L Couch

 

 

Image by PDPics from Pixabay

 

3

Day 181

Day 181

 

It’s Friday afternoon

Day 180’s passing

And so the children should be

Out of school for summer

Last rides in yellow buses

For a while

 

They can populate the stores

For a time

And visit in each residence

Pets should be happier

For the company

And lemonade or something like

Becomes a commodity

 

I don’t mean to say

It’s all sugary

Some will need work,

Too many will go hungry

There will be

Pain from separations of all kinds

 

But some will take trips

They will enjoy

And though not expressed,

Wear a new kind of gratitude

 

As a child,

My summers weren’t idyllic

But I couldn’t help from time to time

First relief, then

Reveling in freedom

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Luiz Guimaraes on Unsplash

 

0

Sarehole Mill

Sarehole Mill

 

The closest he would ever come

To loving a machine with anything

Near intimacy

He didn’t drive a car

He took the train (but did he

love the train, as many young

ones do?)

He was inclined to write by hand

Or so it seems

With all the inky manuscripting

And the drawing

I’m not sure he ever saw a movie

Courtesy of film-projector gears

 

But there was this mill

Still grinding corn

And did the Gaffer live there?

There were bricks and

Inside burnished metal

I wonder how it sounded

When coarse grain was pulled through

And did he ever try the product

 

There were trees close by,

There had to be

Or the feelings would have faltered,

I believe

How near to the heart of Hobbiton

It must have been moved, at last

Turned by water

Providing force enough

For humble profits,

All around

 

C L Couch

 

 

view of Sarehole Mill from the millpond, Birmingham, UK

Bs0u10e01 – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=66147691

 

0

doubt

doubt

 

doubt’s okay

where would we be without it

the buttons might

be popping off our vests

(and they might be nice buttons)

 

the parent before Jesus

who asked for healing

for the child whose

demon threw the child

into fire and water

 

Jesus replies, if you have faith

the parent cries,

I believe

and I have doubt

and churlish to say

help me with my unbelief

 

and you know what happens next

is that

the child is healed

the upstart comments of

the dad or mom

the bolt of lack of faith

somehow

finding home

 

it must be all right

to doubt

to wonder if we have it all

everything we need to know

or that the world

as it’s known

with all the ways we think about

the world

 

are enough

are in fact

perfect in our thinking

and devotion

 

is it a wonder

that the wind

is both invisible

and forceful

 

there is confidence

although in the desert

on the ocean

wind might falter

so might we

 

c l couch

 

 

 

Sailors aboard the U.S. Navy hospital ship USNS Comfort (T-AH 20) spot a life raft at sea near Bermuda after being called for assistance by the U.S. Coast Guard.

U.S. Navy photo by Journalist 2nd Class J. Maurer.

Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8170538

 

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