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clcouch123

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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.

Trees

Trees

(for an October prompt)

 

Tolkien liked trees

Robin Hood, too;

Tinkerbell and Tiger Lily,

I imagine,

Providing shelter

And playing fields

For lost boys

 

I like trees

 

Two of these peaked

High like towers from

The wide suburban plain

Of the backyard,

 

Splindly reaching toward

A clouded sky on

A Pittsburgh summer day

 

There was wind

At night, and upon the

Morning in the yard

One tree had fallen

 

Large across the lawn,

Tall on the ground

Sibling standing over

As if to demonstrate their

Name,

Weeping willow

 

For many days

I had climbed into the

Guard now dying,

Onto a lumbered platform

That my father built

 

That lay square among

Round branches

Inside uprooted, plodding

Blocks

Of grass

 

First time for me

With something monstrous

So close, so wrong

 

C L Couch

9

Psalm 51 (one more song)

Psalm 51

(one more song)

 

Create in me

A clean heart,

O God

 

And renew

A right spirit

Within me

 

Cast me not

Away from thy

Presence

 

And take not

Thy holy spirit

From me

 

Transliteration

And some remembrance

 

My favorite part

Of psalms

We number at

One hundred fifty,

Paradox in fame

And intimacy

 

This are teaching,

Which means

Learning

 

We need God

For new creation

To point to

Art

That in practice

Becomes science

 

 

I need God for more

And cannot

Question merit;

Good work matters

But grace invites

Salvation

 

The chamber

Of my soul

Has many parts

Open for

Parousia

 

I don’t know how

Spirit of God

Invests

And infiltrates

 

But my soul will take

Arriving,

When a spark of you

Is born in me

 

C L Couch

11

Spaceships

Spaceships

 

Shapes that never flew,

 

clean lines that don’t

exist;

 

eccentric shapes of fifty,

sixty years ago,

 

of older sci-fi movies,

too,

of Méliès and Lang;

 

I put my spirit-child trust in

these

far-off, far-out

conveyances

 

through times and places

that I ken

at night when

looking out to dream an

open sky;

 

Liftoff,

 

mind stowed above shined

shelves of

unknowing, rhythmic,

turned controls that

take me

 

nowhere, really;

 

back of the senses, though,

that day by day must

gauge

and engage—

there’s unerring flying

there,

as is said,

 

believe you me;

 

rocket to a set piece,

yes, I know; and

I’ll keep

watching,

dreaming of silver-streaming

things

 

that might bear

you and me

away into otherwise

impassable,

impossible flight-filled night

 

C L Couch

5

Homely Patterns

Homely Patterns

(touchstones)

 

The textures look good,

Fetching shadows made by

Leaves that brush

Morning panes;

 

Utensils drying in the

Countertop basket, like

Bright soldiers

At ease

Anticipating dress parade;

More

 

Things lined up above

The sink, ordinary

Items as

Remembrances:

 

Symbols mean the whole;

Here hopes rest

In half-light perceptions

And

First-morning moments

5

Teal Pumpkin Project (haiku)

Teal Pumpkin Project

Leave un-allergenic treats

On Hallowe’en porch

 

http://www.foodallergy.org/teal-pumpkin-project#.WABLLiQ5pcw

 

https://www.foodallergy.org/image/teal-pumpkin-2016/Email-Sig3.fw.png

Save

2

Services with Variants

Services with Variants

(from Appalachia)

 

I wonder as I wander

Out under the sky

Why Jesus, my Jesus,

Did come down to die

 

For poor on’ry people

Like you and like I

I wonder as I wander

Out under the sky

 

And then the story can begin in

Earnest—the grammar’s bad:

What does that really matter,

 

When the bias is for long and

Almost painful, loving notes

Wrought in the words to send

 

Them over; all the o sounds and

The is like convict souls, once

Held then let go like winged

 

Enchantment, soar above the

Planet in the room, to wave

Like smoke around the beams

 

Above the Sunday evening

Gathering, like convicts bound

Whose chains are broken with

 

No expectation, words and

Notes released like birds once

Wrapped by keepers’ hands—

 

In flight now to know no other

Mission than the erring sky

And song of wonder-wandering

 

 

“I Wonder as I Wander” (Appalachia)

Words and Music collected by John Jacob Niles

Collected by John Jacob Niles in Murphy, [North Carolina,] in July 1933 from a young traveling evangelist Annie Morgan.  According to Niles, he asked her to sing the song repeatedly until he had memorized it. It was published in his 1934 Songs of the Hill-Folk.

http://www.hymnsandcarolsofchristmas.com/Hymns_and_Carols/i_wonder_as_i_wander.htm

 

and “on’ry” is ornery, which is a good word

2

Red Crescent

Red Crescent

(Yemen)

 

What’s left behind

In towns, on plains of blood

Yemen

And everywhere

In the west

Of Asia

 

They look for

Our families taken

Through

The rents of war

 

They offer drink

Give food

And in the desert night

Leave warmth

Around the victims

 

Soft-bright shields

Drawn with symbols

 

Did you not know?

Red Crescent complements

The awful need

 

Quranic teaching

And impulse

To save the unknown

Neighbor

4

Better

Better

 

I don’t know much about the world

It seems

I wish it were better

 

I’m offended

And I’m angry

Who really wants to care?

 

We have other things to do, less

Pandering to moods

Chosen when something more promising

Could be selected

 

Another code pressed on the emotion

Vending machine

I wonder maybe we have a number of tokens

And then the rest are gone

For deciding badly

 

For too-small convictions

When being noble in an un-ranked way

Would make the difference

 

Would light the factories

Would illuminate

Pockets and portals of prosperity

Nether (never) world

Intentions hide

 

Give it a chance

A two-step beneath the table

Smiling for no reason

Than

The joy in dawn-split morning

Or romantic night

The splendid times when

In spite of rusted gags and

Chains

Joy breaks free

5

Five Minutes Monday Morning

Five Minutes Monday Morning

 

Eleven fifty-five,

What’s left?

Coffee made, suburban meaning

More?  Well, make a list,

Check—check the list

 

How much of it’s repeated?

Breathe in, breathe out

Better now the weather’s changed

Autumn’s here at last, I think

Cooler, clearer air

 

Or I can pretend

How much of the difference is inside?

 

But there’s anxiety in the pit

Well, it’s Monday morning

 

I used to read five-minute mysteries;

Five-minute words—I

Believe it could be worse

5

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