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clcouch123

In conversation, I prefer Christopher. My mom named me after Christopher Robin, after all. In writing, I use “C L Couch” (or, more simply, “c l couch”) because the form is genderless and also frankly easier to use. I have awful writer’s cramp. I am an educator more or less retired, more or less due to disability. At present, I live in Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania (USA). My writing here I mean to be occasional and also devotional. Either or both. The banner and profile photographs are by my friend and peer Debra Danielson. More of Debbie’s work to be enjoyed is at debradanielson.org. Thanks to each of you and both and all for coming to my blog.

Prognostic Thursday

(x = space)

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Prognostic Thursday

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Sprained or splintered,

I wait to hear

What the x-rays tell

Some kind of brace

To wear for a while

Nothing stronger

Than Tylenol

For the pain (sigh)

It’s not the worst pain

Bearable except for walking

Of standing

Or sitting down

All right, well,

It’s frustrating

There’s not much else

To do for a while

But to stay still

Very contemplative, I’m sure

Except for finding

The quiet, ecstatic joy

The mystics found

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C L Couch

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Photo by Vismay Krishna on Unsplash

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2

Wednesday Diagnosis

(x = space)

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Wednesday Diagnosis

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I’ll see the doctor today

At 2:20

A friend will drive me there

The pain is sharp

And then it’s dull

The dull kind, naturally enough,

Harder for persistence

Making

Night

Difficult and ongoing,

Rest made into

Dreamless chore

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But one thing I have forgotten

In sharing what is going

On with me,

And that is to ask of you

How are you?

What’s happening with you?

I hope that you are well

And having a fine day

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I had a student

Who entered buoyantly

Each Wednesday day,

It’s hump day! she would cry

Each time

And now I think of her

Each time

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C L Couch

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A ball of energy with electricity beaming all over the place.

Photo by HalGatewood.com on Unsplash

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For Real

(x = space)

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For Real

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Ouch

It hurts

Somehow my foot

Was traumatized

In a sort of

Accident last week

I like to think

It’s getting better,

But that might be

Wishful thinking

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I’ve been hobbling

While I’ve been,

Well, hobbled

Maybe there’s a lesson

In this

That I don’t know at present

All I’m thinking about

Now

Is ouch

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C L Couch

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Photo by Max Bender on Unsplash

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Finally, an Affirmation

(x = space)

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Finally, an Affirmation

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Sometimes to dream

Is stupid,

Because

I think that

Of myself

Who am I to dream?

How can I make the waked-

Up version happen?

Who smiles on

Me to make it happen?

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Dreams spark on the

Inside

(where there is heat);

They are

A matter of

The inner life, the life

We have when we

Are at our best

Or at our rest—sometimes

I’m not sure

Which is which

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I share this with you

Because

Our dreams have value,

And we should have them

(some we’re

going to have, anyway)

And the truer ones

The ones that form,

Form again,

Take hold

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The dreams that we

Should have

That the ideal revelation of

The universe

Approves

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C L Couch

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Gloomy Forest in the Fog

Photo by Jay Mantri on Unsplash

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haiku

(x = space)

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blue day turns gray with

rain to see and hear and then

lightning and thunder

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C L Couch

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Carbon Copies

(x = space)

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Carbon Copies

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Sometimes I don’t know

Why I believe in God

Because God is unaffected

By my question

Or the doubt

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God’s existence being

Unpredicated by my

Belief in God

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It’s not the best start

To philosophy, though Voltaire

Speaks of our need

To invent God, where the

Need seems to have been

God inventing us

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The universe

Cosmos, anyway

Might be a random

Set (set randomly)

Of chemical reactions

Given the first state

Of ephemera

Something or place we

Might have called

Etherea

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Without a place

Or calling it,

God could be

God of random

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We set the first

Dichotomy as chaos

And order,

When it might have been

Void and substance

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Our having what we have

Through design

Or the lack thereof

That could explain the

Platypus or

Emu

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Genesis

Out of genesis,

More than ex nihilo

While God cogitated,

Then declaring to the host

That more

Company was needed

Like the first,

The universe before

The universe

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C L Couch

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Photo by Michael M on Unsplash

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Unelegant Petition

(x = space)

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Unelegant Petition

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God,

Will you give me a good day

This day?

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This is whining,

And it isn’t:

There’s real pain, confusion,

And frustration

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And I’m not certain

Of my way

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Maybe bad days can show

The way as well;

But I’m asking for a

Good day simply,

Well,

Because it hurts

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But if a prophet’s

Tortured way

Is necessary,

Then so be it

(amen)

Though I’d like the way

To be smoothed soon

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And so you know,

I’m glad to work

In the be-thankful-for-small-

Favors

Department

Anytime

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C L Couch

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Old Train Tracks

Photo by Ivan Aleksic on Unsplash

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Onces and Futures

(x = space)

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Onces and Futures

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I used to have a script

It wasn’t very good

Stitched-together parts

Of B-movies and what

I overheard

I could have used

A mentor, you know, a

Merlin—but then

There’s expectation

What do I bring

But nothing, what will I

Find but everything

That is the rule of Camelot

And the crystal cave

I would have

Done my homework, I believe

Looked forward to

Some lessons while

Slogging through the rest

I would have

Listened, such as a young one

Can

But that was an age

And several castles ago,

Each castle dwindling

Until only one

Remains and then only

The tower made of gray, weathered

Stone but standing firm

Through what we call

Good bones

And there might be

A teacher inside, still

Good morning,

Myrrdin

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C L Couch

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Photo by Ian Simmonds on Unsplash

Flatiron Building, New York, United States

This was a lucky find, I was running between destinations on a work trip and spotted the puddle. Everyone else stood on the corner looking up to take shots of the building. I waited for the ripples to settle after people had crossed the road, then got snapping.

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The Once and Future King by T. H. White

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Poem 181

(x = space)

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Poem 181

(thanks for the Poetry 180 Project)

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Where are you?

I’ll miss you for the summer

Billy Collins, thank you

And the Library of Congress

They are contact days, I know

Or contract

The days in a school year

By the number

And the project of a poem a day

To keep us sane,

To give us something to talk about

In class,

Who knows, maybe for extra credit

To write companion pieces

Illustrate them, turn them in

Tack them to a board

Somewhere (but in a place

of honor)

And for me, the poems give this

Once-and-future teacher

Something good

Once a day, especially

When nothing else seems good

Something to carry me

A thought, a momentary inspiration

New words, new ideas

Or simply confirmation that

I should keep reading (writing)

On my own, too

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thank you

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C L Couch

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Poetry 180 is designed to make it easy for students to hear or read a poem on each of the 180 days of the school year. I have selected the poems you will find here with high school students in mind. They are intended to be listened to, and I suggest that all members of the school community be included as readers. A great time for the readings would be following the end of daily announcements over the public address system.

Billy Collins
Former Poet Laureate of the United States

Poetry 180  |  Poet Laureate Projects  |  Poet Laureate  |  Poetry & Literature  |  Programs  |  Library of Congress (loc.gov)

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Nazaré Wall Art

Manolo Chrétien

Nazaré, Portugal

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