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Month

May 2020

Cold Morning Jazz

Cold Morning Jazz

 

1

 

It’s a cold and rainy day

I’m grateful

It’s been too hot

Maybe the neighbors turned

Up their heat

We’re all connected, you see

Like scratches on an antique plate

Like fog inside the city

Like rain

 

2

 

I’m not sure what to say

That hasn’t been said better

By someone else

But I’ll keep at it

Not for the sake of being fresh

But because there is a forum,

Here

In which we should all take part

I heard some truth yesterday

That I have heard before

How fossils added to

With imaginary flesh

Made way for the chimera

All combined animals of myth

 

She spoke her truth as if it were new

But I first heard it long ago

You see, each generation needs

To own its own

Not plagiarism

(plagiarism’s willful)

But new ownership

 

The sphinx is beautiful

Its paws upon the desert floor

Whose head is that

We think we know

Whose body

Name the lion, please

There’s work for you

 

3

 

I’m glad I’m not a city mouse

Somewhere there are mice

Plaster mice

We painted long ago

My brother made the city mouse

Many colors, elegant

Creative

My country mouse was simple

In blue, not much else

Than blue

We painted these at camp

Then they were put away

To look at, every now and then

Mine has a chip upon the ear

 

He can negotiate the city

I do okay,

When I have to

He is the -politan

I try to be the cosmo-

He is so good at what he does

And for my place I guess

I’m glad I am a country mouse

Who lives on Drury Lane

 

I should return his mouse

Next time I have the chance

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Sash Margrie Hunt on Unsplash

New York, USA

 

Devotion

Devotion

 

The cult of Mary rose

Because chivalry needed an aim

And the grail was not enough

A lifestyle was needed

 

A reason for the knight to rise, go

After dragons every day

In every breath a reason

That became the lady

 

It could have been a good thing, I suppose

Maybe was

Maybe some curtailing of violence happened

But she became an object, still

Mary and all women

Something to adore, perhaps

Something to report to,

Still a thing

 

If women could be knights

And, who knows, they might have been

They might have taken it up with her

A real reason, real cause

Not dragons but equality

Real beasts to slay

 

A crusade not against western Asia

But with one’s own country

Until one’s own had real faith

In strength

And in conviction

 

The kind that makes sense out of armor

That gives a blade a reason

To be shined and ready

Humanity

Divinity

Belief in everything that shines

And lasts

 

C L Couch

 

 

The 12th and 13th centuries saw an extraordinary growth of the cult of the Virgin in Western Europe, inspired in part by the writings of theologians such as Bernard of Clairvaux. The movement found its grandest expression in the French cathedrals, often dedicated to “Our Lady”, such as Notre-Dame de Paris and Notre-Dame de Bayeux among others.[70] Walsingham and other places of Marian pilgrimage developed large popular followings. At the height of the pilgrimage movement in the 11th and 12th centuries, hundreds of people were traveling almost constantly from one Marian shrine to the next.[71]

70  Department of Medieval Art and The Cloisters. “The Cult of the Virgin Mary in the Middle Ages”. The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

71  Renaissance and Reformation by William Roscoe Estep 1986 ISBN 0-8028-0050-5, page 7.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Veneration_of_Mary_in_the_Catholic_Church

 

Joan of Arc (French: Jeanne d’Arc[3][4] pronounced [ʒan daʁk]; c. 1412 – 30 May 1431),[5] nicknamed “The Maid of Orléans” (French: La Pucelle d’Orléans), is considered a heroine of France for her role during the Lancastrian phase of the Hundred Years’ War, and was canonized as a Roman Catholic saint.

3  Her name was written in a variety of ways, particularly before the mid-19th century. See Pernoud and Clin, pp. 220–21. Her signature appears as “Jehanne” (see www.stjoan-center.com/Album/, parts 47 and 49; it is also noted in Pernoud and Clin).

4  In archaic form, Jehanne Darc (Pernoud Clin 1998, pp. 220–221), but also Tarc, Daly or Day (Contamine Bouzy Hélary 2012 pp. 511; 517-519).

5  An exact date of birth (6 January, without mention of the year), is uniquely indicated by Perceval de Boulainvilliers, councillor of king Charles VII, in a letter to the duke of Milan. . . .

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joan_of_Arc

 

after Marie d’Orléans – Eglise de Saint-Pair-sur-mer

Prokofiev – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=74909310

 

The Martians

The Martians

 

I feel a mechanical breeze

And I’m thankful

There’s real light in here

And from the lamps

Thank goodness for invention

As for my invention,

I’m not sure what to write about

 

A kind of hazy, light-colored day

Or the gift of light,

Colors on the rest

I think were I on Mars

I’d see there were a tint

Or some kind of curtain lowered

Over everything

 

Maybe eventually

I’d see the ochre tones as normal

That this is color for a Martian

My transitory home

‘Til there be oxygen in the sky

To breathe

 

And then what of the color?

Maybe it would look like Earth

A baby blue on everything

 

Though ancient Martians

If only microbe denizens

Could no longer

Look on home

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by SpaceX on Unsplash

 

The Hours

The Hours

 

It is a quiet day so far

The only noise I hear is mine

Short steps here and there

The creaking microwave

(yes, it creaks when working

sometimes me, too)

Soft murmurs from the television

The illusion that we’re

Interacting

 

It shouldn’t have to be

The start of a campaign

A march for quiet times for

For writing or whatever

I’m grown: I should have it

When I need it

Raise some noise

When I want to

 

Otherwise, the timing of a cenobite

Who wishes only to be left alone

In prayer

A world of prayer

In which the supplicant, petitioner

Enjoys a pure way filled with silent atoms

Paving the way

For all the calls, complaints,

Requests to God

 

Sometimes too much, I think

The hermit should get out more

If at all

There is a world

The one prayed for

We should know it better

Before closing off

To help it

 

A fortress of solitude?

Is that why the heroes need one?

Shut oneself off

To better understand

The causes that we fight for

Extract ingredients from the bowl

Before they’re mixed again

Before we fly back to Metropolis

To take it all on

Again

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Keenan Constance on Unsplash

Johannesburg, South Africa

 

This Magic Moment

This Magic Moment

 

I don’t want anything right now

Except to breathe

And that’s conceit

I’m sure there all kinds of things I want

 

To feel a breeze (there,

I’ve adjusted the fan)

To have sleeves to push up my arms

(I have those)

Enough vision to see what I am writing

Enough sound to believe

There’s interaction

In reality

 

In reality, I’m writing free,

Which is not so bad

I bought this moment

And I own it

Now no one else can take it back

Like some, small precious thing

You know the kind I mean

Kept somewhere

 

A moment of your company

Is something more

I can only ask

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Museums Victoria on Unsplash

HMAS Australia, Rotary Photographic Series, ‘The Only Girl I Ever Loved’, 1914 -1918

 

Ending of the Week

Ending of the Week

(through the sickness)

 

It’s a special day

A day in Ramadan

Sabbath time will start for Jews

Christians may anticipate

A sabbath, too

For those who don’t believe,

It’s Friday

And it’s now

 

There is no better time

For breathing and for other

Action

Speaking of breathing,

The Buddhists can teach

The rest

Something about that

And they do

 

As far as I know, we are between

Times for special Hindu

Celebrations

But fauna call for

Remembrance all the time

We all should respect nature

So well

 

And this is what I know

Not so much, really

So many stories to see,

To hear

I won’t receive them all

But I want to

 

For those without a weekend,

It is different

I can feel for you,

If you don’t mind

I used to have my weekends

In the week

But for the front-liners

Standing, acting against disease

With everything that

Conflagrates

I don’t know what to say except

You rank me

And thank you

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Gift Habeshaw on Unsplash

Addis Abeba, Ethiopia

 

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