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psalms

two poems about angels

two poems about angels

I’ve been writing a series of psalms; two of these turn out being about angels—description, speculation—hoping your approval

psalm 19

your angel watches
with
all the miracle of senses
while
I sleep
when that should happen
in
the turmoil
like trying to rest aboard a ship
at night
when the sea rages
and turns
in all
directions but the way
toward home

the angel keeps
by
mission
not
to render magic but
to let the world have its way
much
of the time until correction
then
and final revelation

and
thank you for such helpers
messengers
to each
announcers to all

and
shall we know you through this
kind who
by order and by wonder
care

and so magnificent
part of
the host and we might serve there
too
after apocalyptic times

but I was thanking
you
for helping while I should sleep
and your helper
with

connecting
me
to you then
as this may happen all
of us

help in all hours by
the God who by God is and has
a servant
to
us all

for our
return

psalm 20

your angels are so powerful
and
having names

we know a few

while power has no value
until assigned by you
and
by your arrangement we
decide
to keep
to use

then the beings close to you
until
we arrive
have chosen how to
serve and how
to shine
for
good or for ill
for some decide

to break away vainly
and
aggressively unsatisfied and so
take followers
to
make a separate heaven
so that there is
a war
to undermine one realm or the other

and over time and
for all we
know is raging yet
since
who can tell an age that is
celestial by
mortal

and so a mystery among
the mysteries
and
if so tied then chained
to worldly ways

so that
the war come down through us
in all temptations and
dimensions
‘til
an ending
whose moment’s also vague
regarding
when

the keening tragedy
as
such creative missives fight
with all the majesty
and
muscle that each has and
then to set
one against another and so many

some try to describe until all of us are
after
when with all the conflicts done
deciders and
survivors
here
say this is the count of heaven
and
mourn and then we must count joy

c l couch

photo by Cosmin Gurau on Unsplash

(spaces between parts go on, sigh, provided by WordPress)

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will of the wisping

will of the wisping

God
I’m sorry for a Sunday
and
please help me for Monday

I miss
missing things
the value
in
interest
more than intention

that part about
the spirit
and
the flesh contesting

and in Gethsemane and who knows
but redolence
drew
them under

anyway
I try to follow
and
don’t get it way too often

and I ask for pardon
without excuse for being human
since
will was made preeminent
to
justify a fall

c l couch

photo by prawito hudoro on Unsplash

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the process of the psalm

the process of the psalm

how did the psalmist write
I wonder
how was the work composed
what
was the process
if
in paper and with pen
or quill or frayed papyrus

were there amanuenses
who
waited for each word
or
was the draft done mentally
and with the harp
at hand to test the measures and then
to set down
and
then all gone over many times
before the purpose
of subtitles
realized

by singers in or near the temple or at
the shrine before there was
a temple
serving
as the composition served
and
served through generations of us
in this age

and
we have the paper
anyway and some give music for an art
for
what’s on there for conveyance

and
we can replicate the act
when all
the people gathere or
for one
depending on the intimacy referenced
and yet it’s all
there
for use
I suppose
if sometimes there is an I or a you or a we implied
and underlying

sometimes to say
the Earth itself should sing
to praise
provision and the might
that is
implied
or saved until a parting of the sea of
food fall from heaven
should
be needed

and did we think of these or simply fear
our need
and then the exigence addressed
though miracle
of
power

and
yes
we could say of timing
that we need what we need
when
needed
though we don’t command the schedule anymore
than the agenda
of what
God can do
or
when

so sing to the Lord or
read it off the page
our
expressions and intentions
as we might own
what
is given there and over centuries
and to you
to me
to us
and now

c l couch


Psalm 96
1 Sing to the Lord a new song;
    sing to the Lord, all the earth.
2 Sing to the Lord, praise . . .
[NIV]

photo by Joël Vogt on Unsplash

1

love and power


love and power

Lord

who is love but you
and
who is true power

you are the source of
everything that’s
good
and the way through
anything that’s
bad

yet
love us
and lead us from inside
and over parts and all the world
from
each in a place

offering by love and power
mercy
as a measure
in justice

a way to
meet
and so live with
each other

amen

c l couch


photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash
“FOR ALL” (for translation)

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snow and God—only one is white, the other all colors (2 poems)


snow and God—only one is white, the other all colors (2 poems)



the ends of Earth

in the north
though not quite there
we tend to think of
snow
this way

so we flock the marketplaces
with lists
for liturgies
and we might need these things
if
not for the not
we shall be
snowed in

hoping not for enough
but
honestly
for more than
with enough
perhaps
electric
and electrons
to share

folding chairs in parking
spaces
that should be public
though the chairs
are in an attitude of waiting
by
the doors

an encroachment on
an agenda to stay
clear
first inside the head
remembering
(or
maybe first)
the heart
the
spirit
to follow

then in the summer
those of us
not
south of south
shall fear the other
extreme
heat
with all the heat we might become
and that hear
on the inside
even
now


(based on being told the snow shall fall at midnight)



shall

and how shall God
love us when
we hate
whatever beside evil
with evil’s
agency
injustice

we may scorn these
and all the rest
be love
	thoughts
	emotions
	plans
the new instinct once we
have faith
to love
when dangerous
or fragile
at the least

and God shall
love
yet somehow never
on condition
but
to love

which might make
salvation
a condition
as
decision
binding us both
with an amazing fear
not
comprehending though
we all somehow agreed to
live and
after
life


c l couch



photo by Jakob Owens on Unsplash

0

Manic Monday



Manic Monday
(and don’t panic)

God sang
The song into creation

The lion did as much
And our holy words
In works
Imply

We are created

We are that song
Or its interpretation
In darkness
And in light
And the bestowal
Of a garden

With the first object lesson
For the teachers
That the garden
Stands
For something we
No longer have
While we must work
In labor
And in labor
For
What we got

Each era is a lesson
We could say
And maybe they progress
The human ages
Which is why
We say
They’re ages

(we get older)

We grow
Some

We adapt
Physically
Some
Though not as much
As one might think
For as long as we’ve
Been here

And this might not be
So much by us
As by
The touch of God

God knowing
We’ll need adaptive parts
As we go on
(grow on)

What do I know
It’s Monday
And I’m feeling existential

With the blues on electric pages
Making less sense
To me
(than could it be
our music style)
Than paper
With its white
And off-white
Receiving of
Our pen strokes
Painting
With black ink

C L Couch


[note to me and now to us
so what’s this poem about?—it’s about thinking and writing, yes, really about both]


     I am having trouble with the blue lights on computers.  Or the part of the lights that are blue.  Or maybe feeling blue.  I think it’s both.
     The result is that I’m even more recalcitrant in using this thing.  This vital thing.  I’ve had to use it for a while then rest my eyes.  Rest my eyes upon the rest of the world.
So if I’m worse about responding than is typical (and typically it can be pretty bad), then I’m sorry.  But as the emperor said quite uselessly, there it is.
--Christopher


Photo by Marija Zaric on Unsplash

Nous existons.  Vraiment.

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New Song

(x = space)

x

x

New Song

x

Sing to the Lord

a new song

All right

A new song

And what shall make it new

New arrangement

Instruments we rarely

Have in church

Maybe there should be dancing

Like

The king’s before the ark

As it was taken

Across Jerusalem

(risking disapproval

of the court

the queen)

x

Maybe not

A psalm

Of normalcy at all

By that I mean

New words

Phrased by us

And our understanding

A gift today

And as a record

Kept in legacy

With the music of

The music master

(female

or male)

x

What we keep

Because we made it

With a notation

Of the first time

It was read

It was played

It was sung

It was danced

x

C L Couch

x

x

Psalm 46

x

Photo by Jefferson Santos on Unsplash

x

(if you want a story of the queen risking the disapproval of the king, then read Esther)

x

1

A Certain Psalm

(x = space)

x

x

A Certain Psalm

x

Songs to God

Confess

Mourn

Celebrate

Some ask where the Lord

Even while addressing

The Lord

x

Which is the way of doubt

Spiced with pain

Salt and bitter herbs

For the wilderness

Inside

The heart a desert

Reason wandering

Where is God but here

But we must

Over hills

And under earth

Search as if

Not to find

Or find in a new way

That answers doubt for all

And always

On this side

Through what we know

Has been dark glass

x

Sing

With a single voice

Or ask an orchestra to play

By composing

All the parts

And a message from humanity

Over the ground

And to the sky

To say

If anything might bless the Lord

Then bless the Lord

If any offering

Might be good for many voices

And an intention

Of authenticity

Received

Then receive the large psalm

Attempting to be thunderous

From us

x

To recognize

To thank

To let everyone have voice

In song or silence

Whatever might senses allow

Or to participate

By turning pages

Or only

Dutifully

Showing up

x

Locusts are a host

The killer bees

We can be a host

Though our precedents

Are angels in the sky

Nonetheless a human host

To try

x

Presenting such a psalm to you

From many people

A human host

Before the court

Of the Lord

x

C L Couch

x

x

recollecting themes and purposes of ancient psalms for the here and now

x

Photo by Mateus Campos Felipe on Unsplash

x

0

Lord,

Lord,

 

I don’t know what I’m doing

I know I often act misdirected

But where is the magic

The spotlight that tells me

I’m in the right place

And on the good way?

 

Came out of nowhere

I just heard that phrase used to

Sell something

A cliché, but it’s poetic

Really

Out of nowhere, ex nihilo

Philosophy

But isn’t that how you create?

Out of nothing appears

Matter

To set new flesh upon a wound or

Fill a gulley in the desert with

Water unheard-of in the

Season

 

Out of nothing I was made

The spark in emptiness that fused

A spirit to new cells,

And I am here

Though you’ve always been here

 

And I can’t say I understand that

How you are in the charges

Of my neurons

And the pulses of my heart

And over Earth

And through the universe of chances

 

Although I still feel useless

And pathless

For the Gethsemani contemplative

It was enough to know

Random instincts somehow speak to

Providence

 

That isn’t me

I’m not so smart

Or self-sufficient

 

Maybe

He wasn’t, either

We both want to know

And what do we find out?

We wander an agnostic landscape

Step toward uncertainty

An answer in a

Moment

And for the next,

Maybe

 

Will that do?

For us, it has to

And bold enough, if cautious

To go beyond the mortal shell

To tread in a fossil sea

To take a walk on Mars

 

C L Couch

 

 

Mars by Curiosity

https://apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap040628.html

 

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