[haiku of the funeral]
common the remains
of by world and word a pope
framed in love to earth
c l couch
photo by Nicolas Weldingh on Unsplash
"in pace"
many Easter surfaces
textures
are soft
bunnies
chocolates
baskets
(grass
inside)
marshmallows
even eggs
yet how harsh to get here
via Triduum
even the more bearable parts
yet
the garden
blood
in prayer
arrest and condemnation
the death
the awful death
struggling to breathe while pushing
legs up
on the long branch of
the cross
then burial
finality
everything over
waiting only
for
remnant followers
to be finished
too
then
at the tomb
open
persons to say
to go on saying
that
the one
was there has
risen
resurrection once for all and
now
reason for faith
jubilance
and alleluia
so
maybe
through all of that
even the grander celebration
some
softness
is appreciable
for
pleasure and for comfort
if
catharsis then catharsis
though there’s more
while not
to take from doctrine
or
from liturgy
maybe
frankly
though
to trade a little on
any
easier aspects of
the peace that passes understanding
promised by
today
clc
Philippians 4:7
photo by Aleksei Agafonov on Unsplash
something to say to God, something to you
say what
I think I should
say something to God today
not about
the weather
which is
fine
about the tree out the window
and across the street
that looks as if it’s bearing
snow
that are the blossoms back
for spring
I should say thank you
for
new growth plus
reminding winter in
a romantic way
thank you
a wish is all
I hope this is a good
day
for you
maybe a day of extra goodness
in the eccentric
way
I thought it was Thursday
when it’s
Wednesday
an extra day in which all sorts
of added goodness
might
take place
and I hope it happens
for you
c l couch
photo by Paran Koo on Unsplash
here is a poem about spring; there is no image; I’m trying understand what I may post by way of text and-or image, given parameters; the poem is intentional, not a template
spring for sports
spring for sports
and spring for sports
and why not
we’ve been breathing indoor
court air
exclusively
too
long
time for a whistle heard across the field
the look of grass real
unreal
(somehow spring dirt makes
a difference)
to feel it
literally at last
underfoot
(maybe
a hobbit’s name)
t-shirts and fresh air
the shirts don’t have to be
so fresh
we could play well
we could play
fair
we could play free of interference
save our own
c l couch
I am trying with no images except, I guess, the banner image. No billboards should appear.
—CLC
well, I’m out of space, folks—I’m not sure what comes next
c l couch
Week
God
We would love you
But it’s Monday
And it’s
Hard
Enough to wake and then
Wake others
Wash
Dress
And breakfast
Leave for work or school
And then do well enough to
Have earned enough
For food
And
Bills and such
Plus maybe earned
A sense of
(enough)
Satisfaction from
The day
And there’s God
Well
Maybe
On Tuesday
C L Couch
Photo by Lerone Pieters on Unsplash
2 poems about, I don’t know, the extraordinary ordinary
don’t unappreciate the day
the trees are gray
now
no longer black
the sky even paler than
it was
and hazy
both being a gift
if dull
a dull gift
and not that there’s evil
so we know the good
so as
a gray so we know the cheering
colors
on
arrival
better
the dullness forms the shadows
after all
and we have need
for three
dimensions
(if
not more)
gray trends sometimes
and do these other
neutral
shades or call
them natural
either way
to call the season
then
to sell
and there is more
for real
in having so much that is
available on
Earth
and to the hearing
smelling
tasting
touching of
you know
(phatically)
so much
please hurry up
(the practical Eliot)*
shall I have more coffee
or
do I dare
to eat
a peach
I could talk about the part
for the hair
though it always seems to go
to the
center
after trials over
years
and did I hear the mermaids song
then from land perhaps
the answer of
another
siren song
and if I walk along the shore
will the competing songs
from land
from ocean
through the air
lead
me to the cave in which
the extra treasure
that
Aladdin couldn’t use
might reside and just for me as if
a spirit said
this is yours
and it’s your time
c l couch
*dealing (over years) with T. S. Eliot, the writer of “The Wasteland,” “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” as well as the famous book about practical cats; citations are paraphrased (the layout paraphrased from the part about the peach)
photo by Ahmed on Unsplash
safety patrol
I’m not sure if I ever
got
the white sash or silver
badge
and I’m not sure the office ever
worked
to make us
safer
crossing the driveway at
the edge
of
the school
but I wanted these
‘cause they
were
cool
the folk
that is
who wore them
sometimes I clapped erasers outside
into
the air
you know
and not against the red bricks
of
the walls
but there was no cachet
in that
no creeping up the gradients
of
cool
like the rising numbers
on the hopscotch
that
I tried
sometimes
but for lack of balance
rarely
like
the cool quantity
ever won
c l couch
photo by Joshua Sukoff on Unsplash
clcouch123 
Recent Comments