Approach on Christmas Eve
Dark quiet night
Unbeckoning
Then a golden light
As a small bulb, bold
Enough
Against the darkness
Now a red gleam, same kind
Shines close by
And between the two,
Ridge lines of rounded bush
Are inferred to our sight
A porch lamp farther on,
And now we see the sidewalk
A platform sided by
Small walls,
Homely columns rising,
Leads to the door
The night has borders now
We feel invited
The world has definition,
And our way in
Is right
C L Couch
Good Christmas Friday
Christmas day on Sunday
And in my reformed way,
I feel a new triduum
But what to mourn tomorrow?
All the peace that has not
Happened
In the world
Peace on Earth
Worthy of a Tolkien epic
Or a Lewis telling
Inklings remembered, a new
Generation nonetheless
Is calling:
Severing war ties in the cosmos
Sewing threads
Into the weave of conflict
To wear retaining
Wisdom, the innocence in
Relented cynicism
The hopes of open-tomb-like
Understanding
Embraces resurrected
Sibling salvation
Let us share—let us keep—an
Earthbound feast
All
Holy days reconciled
In time
C L Couch
Christmas greetings spiced with an apology. Or an apology spiced with Christmas greetings.
I continue to be ill in a way that takes away focus and concentration. I post now and then, because sometimes the words manifest, anyway. But I’ve done little else. Hardly any interaction, which I would maintain is half the life of blogging. Will I get better? Goodness, I hope so. How much of the miasma is due to complications from heart disease? How much from simply hammering my foot into something so hard (the hammering and the something) that wrapping it does little good to help staunch simply the pain?
You see, it’s the ridiculous without so much sublime.
Whether you celebrate the birth of Christ, Messiah or prophet, or the miracles of light or the African family in communion. Or you’re fond of the solstice. Or you simply like this time of year and cherish all the muffled pace much of the world chooses to take. My wish and hope and prayer for you are for peace in the homeliest of ways.
Christmas time, Charlie
We learn it’s more than pink trees
Save stars on dogwoods
Make it pax,
Christopher
(image from FreeImages.com)
Still Christmas in Berlin
No romance for the moment
Christ child forgotten
In the press of madness and of stirring
Grief
To complement the cowardice in Nice
Undeclared, ununiformed men
Who know no better
Than to render a cause stupid
And larcenous
Stealing life from love
The gospel of the season
That will outlast you
C L Couch
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/19/world/europe/berlin-christmas-market-truck-crash.html?_r=0
The End of the Story
My Pittsburgh neighborhood of Aleppo
Is dying
The last reports are terrors
Military action lost strategically
To killing
Civilians who lived there only
Or came to help the ones already wounded
Final words are spoken through
Electrons, visiting upon the world
The revulsion of the void
Of life, which is all that is
Increasing here
Wait, my mistake, it’s Aleppo
In Syria
The first city
Still dying, still dead
Still a message to those of us
Who read and pray
And politic and must go on
The last Marx brother
In a raucous comedy turned horror story
Convicted, we establish
A new front for life
In places we might own for
A while longer
Otherwise, there might be nothing
All around
C L Couch
A.D. 623
(I was looking up the area code)
a princess died
which sounds saddest of all
though loss through war should matter
more
but there’s a story here
to push my human heart
to wonder
and to wander through
the leaves to find the source
and grow a memory
for you
C L Couch
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/623
Our Lady
(12 December, the Solemnity of Guadalupe)
The roses fell
Into his cloak made
Of rough cloth
He took the flowers
To the priest who
Wanted proof before
Believing him
And in the lady
Man of Aztec culture
And holy woman
So hard to believe
Might all our miracles
And visitations
Go over so easily
For fleshly saints
And innocents
C L Couch
john glenn now breaks in
to a sky whose stars shine high
er for his friendship
C L Couch
image credit, NASA (KSC)
http://www-pao.ksc.nasa.gov/history/mercury/ma-6/ma-6.htm
Ghost Ship
(Oakland, California)
Emptied of her passengers,
Investigators and skeletal crew remain
Fun with fire, it’s been said of Nero
No entertainment here
No longer
What issues matter to a burning ship?
The dead who ride no longer care
The living must mourn first
C L Couch
clcouch123 
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