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Plane Crash in Nepal

(x = space]

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Plane Crash in Nepal

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preamble

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And if you think of other planes

Dimensions, even

Torn and torn apart

I think you’re tragically

Correct

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story

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If you’ve ever seen

A landing in Nepal

(I saw one, recorded)

Then you saw

How steep

How brief

A perilous experience

Considered normal

Was there sudden wind

Inside the mountains

Of Himalaya?

Was there ennui

Among the pilots

Who got too used to doing this?

Was there worse

Or better

Doesn’t matter

To the loss of life

That’s final on this side

And for us

All the keening

And investigating

A place of peril

On a good day

This was not a good day

It was a horror

Out of normalcy

We like to think plane landings

Are ho-hum

Not a terror

The humdrum fabric

On the loom

Ripped apart

The frames of bodies

Broken

Flung and sung away

For furies

Or other agencies

Who mission is to surprise death

Out of our ordinary

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This was ordinary

Leisure

Otherwise, uninteresting

Now the count

The cost

The loss

The news

Prayers lining up through ages

A horrible new age

Unending sorry

Ending

Beginning

Some kind of cycle no one

Wants to live through

And live through

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C L Couch

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Photo by Rahul Lal on Unsplash

The Other Side of Himalays

Pokhara, Nepal

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Stone of Help

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Stone of Help

(MLK Junior Day)

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MLK Junior

I don’t know much

About the senior

Except he changed the name of junior

On learning about

Reformation

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I have been to the church

As many have

Name from the Bible

Ebenezer

“stone of help”

Set up near Mizpah

(itself a place of blessing)

As a sign

Of victory

And settlement

And a home of peace

For a long while

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You can look it up

The President spoke yesterday

At the church

There was applause

I’m not sure how many

Contributed to the words

But they spoke to affirmation

And forward-moving

Business

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The sun shines

Yellow and gold

After a series of gray days

I’m sure that’s good

For sales

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His actual birthday

Is the fifteenth,

Which was yesterday

You know, the ides

Of January

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I ramble

But ramble means to walk

And we have

Walking to do

Far to go

And back again

Bearing new days

With less hate

If we must hate at all

Maybe real threats

That never were these

But better still

To respond in love,

The strength and home

In it

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Build on this

The black day

And the white

And all colors in between

Churches should be safe

They should also be inspiring

For they’re people,

Don’t you know,

Not stone or wood

Or columns,

Even friendly porches

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They’re people

In Atlanta

And in Washington

New York

Paris

Geneva

Cairo

And Jerusalem

Mumbai

And Beijing

Tokyo

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Capitals

Big cities

And small towns

And not in towns

We can meet on a field

Grasp hands without weapons

Maybe have a picnic

Signs of peace

Mostly of good food

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And end to hunger

Not of exploration

But of need

The daily kind

For which we pray of bread

And for each other

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An altar there

In fact,

In every place of peace

Agreed

Maybe stones of help

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C L Couch

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By Southern Arkansas University – Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=64713156

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Triscuit Decks a Phobia

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Triscuit Decks a Phobia

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I keep forgetting

That when the first is on a Sunday

There will be a Friday

The thirteenth

I have to pay attention

Though I’m not afraid

I find it interesting

The day

The superstition

All our reactions

When we realize

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There’s the Irish in me

Or you

Or the Italian or the Russian

The Kenyan

Or the Māori

Part of you

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Loki

Raven

Anansi

All the mischief-makers

Plus phantom pronouncements

On the cracks

Under the ladders

With the black cats

Passing by

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The weight of superstition

Better to wear it lightly

Over souls

Keep a thought

Let it drive you

Toward civility

With an interest in

What drives an utterance

Of the Scottish play

Inside the theatre

In another play’s production

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Maybe ghosts will tell us

Why it matters

Since the ethereal

If not the numinous

Is attached

And coursing through

The old sources

And our own,

Both inventing things

For cautions

In our day

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n. b.

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Be nice to black cats

They are not superstition;

They could have stanched

The plague

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C L Couch

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Photo by Possessed Photography on Unsplash

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2 poems about Epiphany

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2 poems about Epiphany (small e, large E) or the epiphanous

Here are two poems about this date, religiously and globally.  It is Orthodox Christmas, however (and Happy Christmas!), with Orthodox Epiphany twelve days from today.

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Epiphanies

(track the Es)

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Merry Christmas

To the Orthodox

Though it is Epiphany

For the west

And west of east

Epiphany is day for

Discovery

In class we might be taught

That epiphany small-e

Denotes a moment when

Things come together

And we realize

Something grand

About life

And living

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The catalyst isn’t something

Well-known

It’s not the wedding day

Or the trip to Disneyland

Not even

Hiking to the peak

It is washing dishes

Playing with children

(don’t let the moment

get you struck

with a game ball)

Beholding the postal carrier

Who knows

Something for

Each one of us

What we realize

Is that

Life is this

And shall not be the same

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For an example

You might have missed

In school,

Stephen Daedalus

In Portrait

Espies a woman by the water

No one he knows

And will not see again

Yet he discovers

Realizes

How the world is

And his part to play

While she is not Arthurian

And Excalibur

Is not presented from the water

The scene is ordinary;

No one else could

Tell

And we know

Because we have the story

Only here

Not worthy in a ledger

Or a history

Or an age

Or of a people

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It might be

That each of an

Arthur

Or a king

Between genders

All of us

And one by one

But that is an essay

To argue a metaphor

For an assignment

As Arthur learns a destiny

For Camelot

So we discover

What we have

In a realm of one

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Could this be

A partnered thing?

Modernism

Would say no

But now that we are post-,

Why not?

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Epiphany large-E

Means discovery

As the Magi come upon

The child Jesus,

Understanding all the prophecy

That hinted in a star

And in old narratives

That someone

Would be here

To change the world

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There is another such

(same day)

Recalling Jesus with

His cousin John

And baptism by the Jordan

Jesus is grown now

And insists

His cousin dedicate

Jesus with water;

John demurs,

But Jesus shall have it in

No other way

And when the water pours

The sky opens

There is a dove descending

And a voice to hear

Announcing

And approving

Jesus to God

And back to Earth

This is the discovery

(large E)

For him

The prophet

And the human world

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For us beholding

Realizing

Changing us

Perhaps

However evangelism

Falls

Like a descending dove

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The Patrick’s Day Party

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Today is the sixth

Of January,

A date that could live

In infamy

But won’t

The government is stable

Except for Republicans

And Democrats

Who decided that

Polemics is the better

Form

Of politics

Shall there be a conservative

Democrat?

Shall there be

A liberal Republican?

By no means

Not here

Not now

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Perhaps it’s time

For other parties

Our parent founders

Did not have in mind

Only two

We could bring back Whigs

I don’t know

What Whigs are

I still imagine them

In wigs

Of a past design

The Know-Nothing party

Is too on-the-nose

For how things

Go today

The Federalists?

The Loyalists?

The New-Year’s-Eve?

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I’d go for the

Saint Patrick’s Party

We could all wear green

To treat each other

And our planet green with

Sainthood

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C L Couch

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Photo by Malcolm Lightbody on Unsplash

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Christmas 12

(x = space)

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Christmas 12

(or What You Will)

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They’re drumming loudest

Of all

Not like Buddy Rich

More like Sousa

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Twelfth day

Twelfth night

The vigil for Epiphany

A holy time

We have a different kind

Of pageant, here

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Not that it’s unholy

And it’s intentioned—it’s

Insane

I should say it

I have to watch it

And to hear it

And there’s the cleaning up

Each day

And after?

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Fish and Wildlife

Are here

And I’ve contacted agents

For the talent

And even though

We’re here

And Julian is there

Maybe she is right,

And

After many sighs

Some resolution

All shall be well

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As for you, true love,

Please

Please

I don’t know

Please go away?

Wait, you’re responsible for this

I think I liked the pipers

They may stay awhile

So I may hear them

Better

And if they behave,

Some of the birds

May stay

For show

To accompany

(sorry, FWS

please come back tomorrow

or stay

for the concert)

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And, love,

I don’t know if you may stay

I do know

Our relationship needs some work

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C L Couch

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Photo by Melvin Darrell on Unsplash

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I wrote something for each verse but did not post them all.  There were days when other things were more pressing or distracting.  I do have the entire series.

Shakespeare took the title of his play from this brief season, anticipating Epiphany, a time of discovery.

Thank you.  Let love be true.

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Christmas 11

(x = space)

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Christmas 11

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Goodness!

Aren’t two enough

Or so

For “The Stars and Stripes Forever”?

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I should sell tickets

Well, hand them out

So all close by

Might share in the cacophony

Sorry, the melodious

Cacophony

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Eleven of them piping

Well, the lords and ladies

Have something

To dance to

Now

Dick Clark

With respect

Bandstand

Top ten

Water music selections

Or something

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Well, they sound practiced

They could have been

Plumbers,

Which given the state of things

Could work out

Fine

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One more

(twelve more)

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C L Couch

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Photo by Azka Rayhansyah on Unsplash

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Christmas 10

(x = space)

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Christmas 10

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Look at that,

Lords leaping

We had to take this

Outside

The neighbors may look over

Though they rarely do

Unless they do

And how did I know that

They were lords?

It was on the dance cards

They provided

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The ladies wouldn’t like it:

There was one lord too many

No, wait,

It is a lord to be frustrated

By a dearth of one

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Though it’s only counting,

Everything’s confused

These ten thus-far

Days

Is it any wonder

From the wonders?

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Sigh,

I left them leaping

To go inside to ponder

Eleven

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C L Couch

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Photo by Andre Hunter on Unsplash

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5783

(x = space)

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5783

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On this numbered

Christmas day

There is a new year

Counting as we do

By Gregory

Of course

It’s not new year

Yet

(or maybe before)

In other places

Other traditions

Counting

Whoever has a lunar year

Whoever numbers

Seasons

The Christian Orthodox

In a couple of weeks

Or so

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We

(dominating

west and north

and much of

east and south)

Being we

Might say

We have an atomic clock

And we prefer the sun

For clocks

That has lasted for a while

And

Will last

On our own

Until the Martian landings

Not only by machines

But by people

With machines

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When we shall have

Two clocks

On walls

In ships

On wrists

Intentional for

Arean negotiation

And for fashion

We start our chronicles

By keeping double time

That yes means fast

For Mars

Is a smaller planet

Get there

Get it fast

We need new years

On new Earths

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C L Couch

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Photo by Dan Meyers on Unsplash

All that’s missing is Homer Simpson sleeping in a chair with a box of pink donuts nearby. This is the control panel of the first nuclear power plant ever built. I love the retro 1950s style, dials, buttons, and lights. This is a free museum located in a remote part of Idaho, that’s only open to the public for a few months each summer.

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Christmas 7

(x = space)

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Christmas 7

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I didn’t use

An Advent calendar this year

But of another kind,

That of the Twelve Days of Christmas

With each day a piece of chocolate

Behind the door

We didn’t have chocolate calendars

Ours were all paper,

Which was fine

We had other sources of chocolate

And sugar overall during

The holidays

x

Counting this way

And each day a treat

From Godiva

I’m finding this

A very grown-up

Practice

And it’s tasty

x

Yesterday

I saw in a movie

What looked typical

For an Advent calendar

Except that behind the door

There were two chocolate pieces

Now!

Isn’t that like Christmas?

Each day to share a treat

Moment of pleasure in

Giving and receiving

x

We were seven;

We would have fought over that,

Which wouldn’t help at all

The cause of Christmas

Paper was enough for us

It was negotiable

The pictures were pretty

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2

Now on this seventh day,

My love,

There are swans that are swimming

So there must be water

Is it my pond

You have the use of

Or did you bring a set of barrels

Or a tub?

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You know that swans are nasty creatures

(like the geese)

Beauty to behold

From a distance

Awkward to watch take off

Or land;

Maybe that’s where their disposition

Comes from,

From vanity

That’s thwarted

Humility mandated

Every day

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They are not quiet

They hiss

The swansong thus

A sad and inaccurate metaphor

I’m sure there’s a story

We can look it up

There is the story

Of the white swan of the black

That bifurcates

The human spirit

And the soul

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But these days are an entertainment,

Yes?

And when will it become

Entertaining,

My true love?

There’s water, feathers, disordination, and bird

Droppings

Let’s move to a field

With a barn to rent

For the next

And then the rest

And then (to pun)

I’ll need to rest

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C L Couch

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Photo by Raphael Nast on Unsplash

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