A Birthday Imbiber
(in blogosphere cyber)
A year and not brighter
No vision of lighter
A groan in a rhymer
Who needs a pun-timer
The ducks who are eider
And eight-sided spider
A sugar- and spice-r
A little enticer
Each one is a-finer
Than my poor one-liner
Say ee-ther or aye-ther
And make me a scythe-r
So stop, exerciser
The next year be wiser
Monday Duo
What shall I write about?
What shall we talk about?
It is Monday
Though any day is fine
Monday morning, of course,
Lends itself
Toward silence and slow
Moving
Maybe coffee later today
And conversation
Would be just right
Will you join me? I know I’d
Like that
The privilege of your company,
Quieter delight in your
Companionship
Cyrillic Alphabet
Here’s what I know, which
Isn’t all that much:
Cyril and Methodius travel
To Russia
To send a unifying story
Into tribal affiliations that
Have been
Sibling-folk murdering each
Other
For their difference
Here’s what the pilgrims
Found
In talking,
That no one knew the word
Each one uttering only
What each knew
And deadly ignorance
Who could hear?—there
Was no way;
Placing sectarian evangelism
Aside (though not
Unloading their first
Purpose),
What the saints gave first
Was language
In a unifying word
All could
Listen to at last
When the target is no longer
Blank, rather filled
With shapes
And hues
Of understanding,
Denial in killing becomes
A challenge
In Impossibility
All stories were told,
Fables had new morals;
All the letters are now legacy,
Spoken with
Living breath each day
The saints are capitalized
I don’t know how
Much they care
And people are
Still talking, if
Through veils sometimes
Fall into Night
Having slept late,
Perforce,
To my condition
It’s too soon
Now, the three-o’clock
Time when
The day turns
As it must
Toward autumnal
Night
And we notice,
If subcutaneous,
The knowing
Sense of
This;
Inside autumn leaves
We face
Alternatives:
To go dry-wilting
Into brown days
Or to
Flame like novae
In glory of
Expiring red,
Yellow tears or
Tears,*
Last bright orange
Bleeding
Dwindling into
Joyful or stressed
Evenings
Of our
Distinctive seasons
*reader’s choice
My Try
(exercise for ears and eyes)
Like a dog
Keep a blog
Keep the faith
Like a wraith
Like the sun
When it’s done
With a nod
Turn to God
Need help
Like a yelp
Break hate
Like a plate
To the guv’
Give love
Be tired
When we’re mired
When we’re bent
Like a scent
Holy dent
Let’s repent
As we meant
And relent
Hobbit’s Birthday Note
(from in the trunk-folds of an ancient tree)
For all friends of dwarves and elves
Of your esteemed and genial selves,
Tomorrow we’ll hold mirth at bay
To celebrate our Baggins Day!
As antique as this parchment found,
Tradition of who’ll buy the round:
Mechanics, lords, and love-you-all
To join us on first day of fall,
To watch and wary by the end—
He’ll disappear, our Bilbo-friend!
La Alhambra
Space and light
In Arabian style
Arches keeping water
Underneath,
Against an unfolding
Desert view
A perspective that
Lasts for an age, even
As webs of dusted
Sand
Accumulate beneath
It persists, this
Gaze, in the mind
Of romance and an
Art
Accomplished
With insights into all
The infinities we are
Our Many Faces
Aleppo, yes, I know
Sounds like a sixth
Marx brother from
Post-Vaudevillian
Capers
But children die there
From what war takes
Which is all right
Since we don’t value
Children, anyway:
If we did, we’d see
They were not shot
And killed, they never
Suffered in want
Of food or a good
School
We’d value them like
Prizes won in the
Most precious bingo
Game or ski-ball
We’d sit with them,
We’d watch them eat,
See that they are
Clean inside and out
And have temerity
To ask for help when
Needed
We’d celebrate the
Family that we are
Part of, even if we’re
Not their parents
Because in the most
Worldly way we are
We’d say, it’s for the
Children; and we’d
Mean it
We’d change
Everything to have
Them safe and well
And jiggly playful at
Home
We’d do the world
Right this time
C L Couch
clcouch123 
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