2 preachy poems (and I could apologize)
Wise Fragility
Don’t lose what’s authentic
That sounds good
But what if one were not authentic
To begin with
And what if one grew up inside
And was only subject
The falsity
So prevalent in
The human world
A wish
A want
The wisdom
And the health
In being who we are
With all
The honest virtues
And flaws
Flaws can be honest
Too
And loved
So what is real
We think when we’re naked
We are
Real
But isn’t when
We look the way we choose to look
For modesty
Or show
That reveals ourselves
In some depth
Some way
And bring it out again
What we know from what we’ve had
How we’ve been
Treated
Too
How about consideration of
How we might
Treat ourselves
With both health and pleasure
God
Making
And approving
Both
The way we treat each other
Vying
Too
In the best way
We were
Made
To deal
And to approve
Be you
Be me
And in love
All kinds of
(wise
healthy)
Love
Trade parts of each other
As lovers
Friends
(and)
Or nations
(the notion of naked versus dressed and when we are (more) real comes from a passage in The Four Loves by C. S. Lewis)
Cabinetry
I keep a few doors open
I don’t know
So I can appreciate
The colors in the labels
Of canned food
Or
Because I want
To be reminded of what’s there
Or
Because I’m claustrophobia
And the open doors
Trick a sense of space
Or maybe
I’d rather have life open
Not that it is
Though I think it should be
More than that
I think all our lives
Should be
Open
Like these doors
Not as politicians
Say
Nothing hide
Because they’re lying
In that
They have many things to hide
And so do we
Collectively
At least
But could we do it
Open up our lives without
Rejection
Without even prejudice
Except toward being human
Which
Of course
Is all
Of us
Open up
Maybe
(collectively)
Take off the doors
Somehow
Leave them that way
Which shouldn’t be a problem
Save for tremors
C L Couch
Photo by Tina Witherspoon on Unsplash
3 poems for new seasons, Christmastime and others
stopping by Frost
gray day
black branches
cold outside
in mid-afternoon
it’s already getting dark
meaning that
November plays it part
in the drama of the seasons
in these parts
what is it
of the woods
they’re
lovely
dark
and
deep
wonderful for liturgy
in recitation
as a legacy
we quote famous things
once more with greater feeling
now and then
look for inspiration
anywhere
and sometimes recall
to look
you know
inside ourselves
remembering that
we are
lovely
dark
and
deep as well
there is no peace on Earth unless
so here we go
it’s Christmastime
a holy season
some
might recall
that has become a cosmic
thing
on planet Earth
and I’m not sure
how much we should mind
since
maybe the Christmas values get through
anyway
something about the cheer in giving
as well as
the fun in receiving
remember that Peace on Earth
is a staple
quotation of the season
that could always turn into
rhetoric
and discourse
meaning we may talk about it
as a worldly thing
through and beyond
any one
sect or group
so we could take our chances
to be people of the season
wherever
whomever on Earth
we might be
believing
peace ultimately
to be
a practical consideration
in addition to
philosophy
and foundational pin
of faith
human faith
allied with God
and yet on our own
to own
Peace on Earth
why don’t’ we
and
we just might
an un-pretty plan
(poet’s agenda)
let the pretty verse be offered by
someone else
here there is a need
to be plain
keep Earth or don’t
have Earth or not
make up our minds
God is waiting
not saving us in this
‘til it’s too late for us
to move in with judgment
when we could have lived without
paradise imposed
but at our pleasure
being our design
and plan
c l couch
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
(from) “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost
photo by Dmytro Vynohradov on Unsplash
here’s a chapbooklet for later on Thanksgiving Day or next should such things be saved—happy day, please be safe (irregardless of the world), maybe don’t deep-fry anything
A Day in the Life
It’s a strange world
Uncivil people live above me
By default
Encouraging me
To be the same
It’s a chilly town
In fact
Socially speaking
We bare say hello when we pass
And most often
Say nothing
Nothing
Through eye contact
Either
I suppose there are safe
Encapsulations
Maybe where
The profit’s highest
Too
Little havens
Barricaded from the rest
From us plain folk
Who want
A relatively easy life for interactions
Not to deal with the wanton noise
That simply proves
We’re here
Against and by
Indifferent suffering
Or prejudicial machinations
A happy holiday
Why don’t we
Tried
I’m tired
And maybe tired
Is good for now
I can’t do much
But so what
The world doesn’t
Turn by me
Or any
Rather
It’s a twirling gift
From God
And maybe if don’t clean
Enough
That only
Causes me to suffer
That’s all right
God loves me
Still
Both ways
As God loves you
Parade Monologue
(Thanksgiving day)
It was okay
I guess
Which is an awful thing to say
I’m sure
All the millions
Of hours
And
Yes
All the money
Too
In hope of celebration
For good ratings
I’m sorry
But it’s an electronic masquerade
Anymore
Pretty enough
Though there are mistakes
Mostly let go
(mostly)
Which seems odd to me
When the agenda
Is perfection
Yet
We can’t pull it off
In
Well
Anything
Pretty enough
I suppose
But it could be less perfect
Less tall
Save for the floats
As in
The high balloons
That seem to have a life
For movement
And
I guess
They do
Though where was Underdog
(supposing it’s too much
to look for
the Sinclair dragon
anymore)
The marching
Playing
Twirling bands
Are good
And should get more time
All the celebrities
We could use less
Of the ones
I do not know
And mostly will not see again
Which
I suppose
Is my problem
In cultural ignorance
But
God bless the Rockettes
And Santa Claus
(pulled by a cool
truck
this year)
Whose appearance
Mom would say
Means the official
(family)
Start
Of the Christmas holiday
Season
And I suppose
For Hannukah as well
And
Is it allowable
To wish for less
I wonder
In what begins
Our seasons of wonder
Thanksgiving Daytime
(in October by Canadians)
Water
One coffee
Then another
Yogurt
Time
I’m thankful
I could use less for thanks
Less noise
Less penury
But we have what we have
The days
Are existential building blocks
To make a tower
Of a life
Maybe a giant
Maybe a forest
Maybe a cover
And a framing for
A story about
Noise
A tower
With a giant
In a forest
I could be thankful for that
Too
And for imagination
Yours and mine
That could come up
With such things
Momaw Again
It is Momaw’s birthday
Most likely
You did not know Momaw
From Tennessee
Life in the Depression
A widow
Then the grandfather I knew
And comforts for
The rest of her life
In the nineties
And I’m glad and thankful
For her
Life on Earth
Thanksgiving for One
(how sorry should I feel)
I have a frozen entrée with
You know
The seasonal things
Inside
And a can of
Cranberry sauce
Whole not jellied
(sorry
Joe)
And
Sorry
Loneliness for a table
On my bed typing
In fact
And here I shall dinner
I presume
With noisy people
Up above
And a wish
For angel intervention
Maybe being tired
Is good for
Tolerance
Not isolation
That
Frankly
Today
Is not good for much of anything
An Approach in A-Grammar
(like a-nathema)
I made a lifetime out of
Getting the grammar
Right
And yet
Choose to use no punctuation here
Less and less
In fact
I guess I think
Line spacing helps
And as a reader
You may decide the pauses
Location and
Degree
As well
And maybe read through twice
Before deciding
How the thing should sound
Which could be an agenda
On my part
And thank you
For not smoking
(except metaphorical)
More so
For reading
Thank you
And thank you
Ms Lamott
Scripted
(rom-com)
1
Hug your mom
Why don’t you
It’s time
And regardless of the script
You should
Hug your mom
In this even-fictive moment
2
Two hands in the popcorn
Like
Lady and the Tramp
With spaghetti
More hygienic
This way
More noncommittal
Too
C L Couch
Photo by Odiseo Castrejon on Unsplash
Black Hours
Black hours
Don’t have to mean
A dark night for the soul
Or for
Another part of
Self
An exclusive mediation
That must go
Sadly
Matched exhaustion
With frustration
Due to
Existential form
For
Sometimes
When I was done
With day
And daytime matters
Care for mother
And
Father-negotiation
With
House and home such-like
And also work outside
Of these
I could claim some
Time
And I was tired
I had some time
I took some time
And I was
Tired
Yet so many things
Were sunlit
Surface things were quiet
So
I could
Own
An hour or so
To sit and think
Like Pooh
Beside the jar
Or like the Satchel cat
That sits and thinks or sometimes
Only sits
C L Couch
Photo by Marten Newhall on Unsplash
The classic Dark Night of the Soul is a poem and also commentary by Saint John of the Cross.
West Gone
Go west
Young man
He said
But he didn’t mean it
In that he didn’t go
And in heaven
He’ll say
I wasn’t young
To which the angels
Might reply
Did you think of all the souls
Already west
Living
Hunting
Worshipping the land and sky
And he might say
I knew that
They were there
But had all these people in the east
Needing somewhere to go
The war
The horrors of the restless war
And then
The burdens in the restless peace
Thereafter
Not enough
He might be told
But enter heaven
Anyway
Where we’ll have a job for you
C L Couch
(Horace Greeley may not have been the first saying it, though he said it famously in July of 1865)
Photo by Chor Tsang on Unsplash
The Old West
[before it was new]
Let It Go
I should write early
Then release it
Each piece a journey
If a stroll
And like a tapestry
There’s thread
And there’s a loom
Something
On which something else
Is framed
The work
The weave
Go out in directions
And make patterns
And there are
The damaged parts
But it’s a
Piece at last
For all our senses
And
Overall
The sense in things
[here’s an example, first thing out most recent session, not revised to death—or life if it can’t reach]
Consideration of the Afterlife and Through-Life
So what happens next
The short answer is that we don’t know
The long answer is
We hear things
Saint Paul tells
There shall be no pain
And our bodies shall be perfect
Perfected
That is
Through some sort of transformation
Some new alignment of
The spirit and the flesh
We have stories from
Those who have
Gone
And then come back
And I don’t know
These stories
Seem
To go along with ancient texts
Of many traditions
Many followings
And
Do we translate somehow
Right away
And where might judgment be
How might it
Happen
Christians say there shall be
Advocacy
In what transpires
And that we could
Be secure of heaven
Not for being
Good
In an unerring way
But for belief
Solely by belief
Sola Dei
Sola Christus
Other groups have other ways
To understand and have
The same
To be respectful and to say
Sola-something else
Sola-someone else
We don’t know what we don’t know
But it seems
We do know things
Though it’s all
So abstract
And invisible
What happens
And criteria
Could be clearer
And frankly sensible
As in
Assuring to the senses
That we have
It all would be
Frankly
Less frightening
As well
But then our will would have no place
It seems
And for the loss of Eden
It also seems
That what we choose
Does matter
And there might be no higher stakes
In fact
Sigh
I wish it were all easier
Though even angels
Without will
We say
Manage to rebel
So all things choose
Perhaps
Nature chooses
In the changing seasons
In responding to
New
And ongoing circumstances
So try to believe
Appears to be the way
Do well
Do good
Because it’s better
More uplifting
More constructive
Evidencing of itself
The better way
Thinking
And feeling better
Too
Children
Believe
For we are all the children
And belief is our
Incumbency
Our legacy
Our lore
The words of God to tell
And evidence in
Nature
Clear enough for being made
By God
C L Couch
Photo by Sandy Millar on Unsplash
“And in death they were not divided. 2 Sam.1.23” (for translation programs)
gray time
it’s late
it’s fall
winter’s rise
a month away
the bears
have eaten salmon
I saw the camera’s highlights
of
bear
red flesh
and moving stream
taking
what is red
away
so now
the bears are done
(the
salmon gone)
and time for the
sleep
of a season
in the impulse of the bear
and the gray comes
earlier
should clouds
impede
a brilliance for a sunset
either way
and then
is
black-paned night
maybe
rest
regardless
after
hours
the next
the new day
c l couch
photo by Val Vesa on Unsplash
Sunset in Cluj, Romania
Hello and Thank You and Goodbye
Here the trees are empty now
That’s fair
Some leaves hang on
Inevitably
Bravely
Though winter is unchanging
Too
And with intent
And will
Comes on
C L Couch
Photo by Noah Silliman on Unsplash
me, you, God (3 poems)
Smart Scan
Something happened
If only for
A little while
Some sleep helped
And lying in
A while
And now some coffee
Having checked the phone
Set up the machine
Which
Didn’t take so long this time
And I am glad
Thinking about moving a lamp
In a Prufrockian
Way
And there is peace
I think for emptiness
The good kind being alone
In the building
Maybe
Or at least
Most of them are gone
And I am alone
With my vibes
That for some reason
Don’t feel so bad
So pressed
Just now
There is pleasure in the isolation
Not
To want it all the time
But I think on passages from
Call of the Wild
And
Martian Chronicles
Moments
Well
Passages of aloneness
That are hard on
Them
Perhaps
From time to time
And me as well
And yet
The stories move forward
With freedom from the outside
Enhancing
Liberty
Inside
To think on everything
Or at least enough
For the passage that
Is this day
Still Time
And that’s me
How is it with you
I just lay and thought a while
An hour
In
This morning
When by the way
I saw the branches dripping
Recent rain
With golden hangers-on
Of fall
Maybe doing that might
Be good for you
The time to lie
(to lay)
That is
And not to drop off branches
(though who knows
since there is
a way
with trees)
I mean
I’m not a guru
(with
apologies to gurus)
As much as I’d like to be your friend
In this
Or at least
An ally
Allies
Negotiate
And strategize campaigns
Sometimes
And maybe such
Would work for
You
And us
Let me encourage you
To take time to
Take time
‘Cause spring will turn to fall
In just no time at all
Which is a passage that
I think on often
(partly
‘cause the memory
is tuneful)
From a show
And the voice
I’ve heard is
That
Of Granny Clampett
Which also appeals to me
Somehow
Anyway
Remembrances aside
Or frankly
To focus better on them
And the rest that needs recall
Before deciding
Maybe we will
Find that
Time
Call it a candle hour
(with a wick
or
screw in the flame)
That is
Some time for stillness
And to think in
Stillness
A Genesis and Then Another
And then there’s God
Who made all things
And keeps
Creating
Who is investing in the largest
And the smallest
The Grand Canyon
A grasshopper
The features and
The people
Of
The West Bank
God’s spirit is in you and me
Or me because
I ask
Or you
In the same way
Though should we not invite
We have our spirits
At the least
Which is extraordinary
In presence
And in value
Each one lost
May go to God
A greater
Closeness
And a new home
Perhaps
(I’m uncertain of
theology)
The loss might be as we expect
Peaceful
Even dull
Or it might crash into life
(and
life no more)
By flood
Or war
Loss and gain
And every feather
Every hair
(or loss of hair)
Is tracked
By God
As if angels followed every
Created thing
With ledger
And the feathered thing called hope
With which to quill
Numbers
And notations
Such wonders in the world
Too many wonders
Really
For each one
To take them all
But size
And the notated numbers
Give allowance
For each one
On Earth
To have so much
Though
There are thieves
With sometimes heroes
To thwart
The thieves
And thievery
To
Bring into repentant
Light
And life
So what might God
With all our trials
Yet
Expect of us
Well
There’s Amos
About justice
And rolling waters
And also walking humbly
By those waters
(which is
Micah
more or less)
As if they were also
Still enough
While
Being hale
For companionship
Even
Some kind of feast
Beside
And so there’s God
And God with us
Our own
Immanuel
And also for the world
Come Christmas and
You know
364
(365 when leaping)
God makes
God gives
We also provide
Gifting
Maintaining
For each other
Though we are not first cause
But we’re enough
There is great utility
In being
Giving
Sharing
Out of the bounty
Or the paucity
Of God sending
As well
As famously
Each one of us
An Immanuel
(small i)
Each one
C L Couch
But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!
Amos 5:24
[God] has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.
Micah 6:8
Oh, it's time to start livin'
Time to take a little from this world we're given
Time to take time, cause spring will turn to fall
In just no time at all.
“No Time at All”
Pippin
sung by Irene Ryan in the first Broadway cast
(Ecclesiastes 3, Psalm 23, Jack London, Ray Bradbury)
clcouch123 
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