surprise
eating caramel
is like eating fall
I don’t try the sweet stuff often
and so had forgotten
its tie to the season
but there it was; I had a
bite—first bite—and fall came
pushing through the taste
I am thankful for the bond
of taste with remembrance
that brought a whole time of
year into the small place here
where I nibble while waiting
for the next thing, after
this, to write or say
My name is Christopher. I was named by my mother who really liked the Winnie the Pooh stories. I use “C L Couch” for writing because that form is easier (I have awful writer’s cramp) and gender-less. I think “clcouch123” is a gift from WordPress.
And who are you? Or, as Owl might say, Hoo are you?
Hallowe’en is a celebration of the evening before All Hallows’ or All Saints Day. It coincides with the old autumnal celebration of Samhain (the m is pronounced like a w—hey, I said it was old) practiced by those who lived in England before the Romans and then the Christians came. When the Scots and Irish came to America, they brought many Hallowe’en traditions with them—dressing in masks to scare off (by resembling) demons, the carving of the Jack-O-Lantern (though the Irish carved many vegetables such as turnips). Now the celebration is celebrated—or can be—by everyone. For us, Hallowe’en is a safe way to enjoy being scared. We enjoy being scared, just enough. And we have dressing up as who we’re not. And, oh yeah, there’s candy.
Have a Happy!
Hallowe’en Season
Why don’t I mind when Hallowe’en is overdone,
when stores stock up and pander to us
the colors, the candies, the costumes, the scares
of Hallowe’en time?
Because that’s what Hallowe’en is, folks.
For the ancients, a time to celebrate harvest
and express hope, through ritual, of a better
crop next year.
For us, a celebration of fright, the good kind (yes,
there is a good fright), the kind that children
can enjoy—and by children, an adult
admission, the child is any of us.
Orange and black, brown, red, and yellow,
colors of fall turned into colors of festivities.
Can it be overdone, over-sold, and over-lived?
Sure—what can’t?
This cool season (in the East) we enjoy beyond
the mask, the crafted holes we look through
to see a tunneled, focused world bent on
cheer and scare in equal measure,
I’ll take it, as it is. How much definition is
there, anyway? Wear anything (a pillow with
big holes and elsewhere black—you are a floating
ghostly head), and take the candy courteously
at the front door, in the mall, in the community
hall, or at the party. Enjoy. Enjoy the fright.
Enjoy the minor excess, dependant on the love of
chocolate and dark nights.
What do we talk about today?
anything
anything you want
I’ll stand by
well, sit by
I’m still sitting
still sitting
sitting
still
For anyone reading this who might not know, the poems I’ve entered over the last several days are mine (except for Tolkien’s) and from a course I’ve taken through Blogging University called Writing 201. Now that this course is finished, I’ll enter more things and try to spruce up this blog or at least make it more seem like my own. I like interaction (positive, polite), so I hope my blog will continue with a little life, at least.
sabbath
a poem that’s not an assignment
I can write anything I want
so can you
a kind of sabbath day, I guess
I do enjoy, regardless of formality, a day of
rest and easier reflection
I like this time when expectations are few
though that’s foolishness, because there’s always
much to do
but sabbath, personal or by tradition, gives us
a rest, a chance to think new things
to take life section by section
look at each, put it down after enjoying the texture
of each piece of living and the affects
of prior choice
and give new voice
to decide anew
after rest is due
our way
today
Our Way, Friend and Friends
(“My Way” is a song written by Jacques Revaux, Claude Francois, Gilles Thibaut, Paul Anka—popularly recorded by Elvis Presley and by Frank Sinatra)
“And now, the end is near
So I face the final curtain”
A melancholy song about endings
Though it’s kind of a conceit
Not based on final assessment
Or judgment in life
But an expression, a claim
A kind of righteous claim on life
“Regrets, I’ve had a few
But then again, too few to mention”
Yes, we have regrets, and I don’t know
About too few
I would change things; so, I
Think, might you
We don’t act, we don’t choose
In a vacuum of discretion, since
What we enact, from inner to outer
Performance, affects others, too
It does—we might think, one by
One, we have no power
And what we do does not matter
But we do, and it does
“The record shows I took the blows
And did it my way”
Well, the blows fall all around
And others are affected, too
The song is a cheat—though I like
The tune—for there is good
In the reality of knowing we are not
Isolate, even in responsibility
We work together, however
Unconsciously
So let’s do it consciously
And so we have: we have worked
Together, and for what we’ve made
I’m thankful
Thank you, thank you, each and all, for
Making it, not one
But more than one
For doing it our way
Our way, better
Our way, real
Our way, our way
C L Couch
And so, dark lady, this is given thee
(I use “thee,” the ancient word for love,
the closer way to say “you,” hand in glove:
bland, loving pronoun “you” now claims to be) —
To thee (then), all I have respecting me
I offer thee, while still respecting of
my broken soul that I would set above,
my spirit armored, still, against cold sea;
I’m foolish, dear, to worry over things
but do protect myself against the stormed
and frozen heart-string now that warmly sings
the happiness I have from thee; new-formed
heart’s way, surprising. calms my fears from years.
Rejected pains let go as thy love nears.
clcouch123 
Recent Comments