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Old Poodle Plays Elsewhere

Old Poodle Plays Elsewhere

 

His breed lives to ten

He made it to seventeen

Not by force of will

But by force of being silly

He didn’t know his job

Was to stay alive

He was simply having fun

Goofing around in mortality

Wanted what he wanted,

Which is what dogs want

Except he never asked

To be taken seriously

Maybe inside, there always was

A puppy brain

 

At last, the canine version

Of Charon must show up

Taking dog treats for a coin

And he will join Old Dachshund

In the field

That bears no blood

Though there’s hunting

Good sunlight

Where play and sleep have been

Perfected

 

Here on Earth, there are empty

Cushions and certain corners

Remembering to take bowls up off

Floor and resist the urge

To fill them

Not to listen for a bark

Or nails upon hard surfaces

Or take all the licks he wasn’t

Supposed to give

 

Two more dogs for paradise

While we remain in our station

Good-bye, Old Poodle

Say hi to Dachshund for us

Enjoy all the things

You can enjoy again

 

C L Couch

 

 

Image by Katrina_S from Pixabay

 

7

New Nicaean Thinking

New Nicaean Thinking

 

Fully human

Fully divine

That’s what we say

In answer to an old debate

Whose contesters have

Been dust a while

And still we say it

Because there are those who

Who want only flesh

While there are others

Who would only have perfection

Inside a ghostly presence

 

I don’t mean Hallowe’en

When the veil is thin

But every day, impossibly

God is only flesh

Or a spirit

I didn’t realize

(and don’t)

That, perhaps attaining

Certain saving ranks,

God could be rendered

I suppose beneath the mitre

Or in a meeting room

 

Though God might be outside

In holy, wild majesty

Waiting for the conference to end

To show debate instead

In hurricanes

Or life inside the vacuum

Of space, waiting for visitation

 

There’s flesh

There’s spirit

They stand and move apart

Or somehow they’re conjoined,

Which would be awe

 

Try to understand a black hole

Or transcendent Pi

Find life inside CERN

Or the baby,

Once conceived

 

Maybe we’ll find that we can

Create amazement, too

(I think we’ve done it)

Maybe we’ll be inventing God

As Voltaire did or did not mean

To advise,

 

Or we’ll say it is a better machine

Matching the workings of

A molecule or cell

Nanobots

Realizing dispensation

Plenary indulging

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Don Shin on Unsplash

Stanford Dish

 

2

Glorious

Glorious

 

Food brings us together

I hear someone talking about

This on TV

I’m sure it’s true

Though I have experienced very little

Of it

There’s always tension at the table,

Over the food, convicted in

The conversation

Maybe less in a restaurant, which

Might be the answer

Or to be Italian

Or Mexican

I’ve had great meals with both groups

As families

Welcomed as a demonym

And if there wasn’t joie de vivre

(maybe I should be French)

Then what were we doing here?

We could take pills

And concentrate on something else

Life on Mars

Eating alone,

Each in a room

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Piseth Yun on Unsplash

 

2

This Is Not a Test

This Is Not a Test

(Psalm 121:1-2)

 

It isn’t that the help

Comes from the hills

But that it comes

From God

It might come from the

Hills, or it might come

From the valley

Or the desert or the

Outskirts of the city or

Fallow farmland

 

It might come from Rahab

Or from Zipporah

Or from Ruth

It might come from

All expected places

Or from surprises,

Say,

Balaam’s donkey

 

Don’t box in the help

From God

There’s no container,

Anyway

Let it flow like Micah

And all salient prophecy

 

Trust, now that’s the

Hard part

When there is no formula

Beyond a prayer

Or looking up in hope

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by David Monje on Unsplash

Girona, Spain

 

9

haiku appearing

 

a haiku I submitted to Freya Pickard at Pure Haiku

https://purehaiku.wordpress.com/2020/05/23/5-23-4/

 

 

to learn about Freya Pickard and Pure Haiku

https://purehaiku.wordpress.com/about/

 

 

Freya is a devotee and artist of haiku.  I am thankful to have had my work selected by her.

C L Couch

 

 

image by Britta Gade from Pixabay

 

9

Small Matters

Small Matters

(enormously)

 

Small dog

Small death

Dogs grow old and die

Better we outlive the ones

We care for

We are small, too

Not in worth

But then, neither was he

Buddy, Bud, Boo

I don’t know how old he was

He was my neighbor

Now he’s gone

I’m sorry

He was soft

He was funny

I took a nip or two from him

(you know the kind I mean)

I don’t care

I’ve known dogs

I knew this one well enough

 

To me, it came on fast

What do I know

His mouth, by the way,

Was small

(maybe that’s why I didn’t

worry about the bites)

He could manage the small

Tennis-ball type things

I gave him some

 

Well, he’s gone from here

Dog-heaven is a destination

In a country song

And where he is for real

I’ll miss him

Not as much as she will

Her dog

His human

It’s a new connection, now

 

C L Couch

 

Thank you praying and thinking about Buddy.  (Goodness, officious announcing has rendered thoughts and prayers into specious-sounding things, though they’re not when real.)  Buddy died, quickly it seems.  If there’s power in prayer—and there is—then your prayers helped get him to his next home smoothly and painlessly.

Another pet friend of mine died recently.  Like Buddy, this one had a wonderful life, especially as irascible as he was.  This was Old Poodle about whom I’ve written with Old Dachshund (who died a while ago).  About these dogs, my sister often said “It’s a good thing they’re cute.”  I often sat for them and typically found their behaviors more amusing than annoying.  But then I could leave.

I’m sorry for Denise who took care of Buddy and my sister’s family who cared for Wiener and Schnitzel (my brother-in-law, the chef, provided the names).  And I’m thankful for humans who give good lives to pets.

 

 

Photo by Kenny Luo on Unsplash

GuangZhou

 

 

 

11

Prayers for Buddy-Boo

Prayers for Buddy-Boo

 

I know there are things

happening.  Wars both

declared and un- or not

so much. Freedoms

challenged by despotism.

I probably don’t need

to mention disease.

But there’s a little—I mean,

little—dog who always

treats me with meaningful

indifference, and now

he’s sick.  He could use

help through prayer and-or

some good and hopeful

thinking.  You know I mean

the actual kind.  Saint

Francis would approve and so

would mom. He’s in the

hospital, and the photo

somehow looks both

cute and solemn.  His name

is Buddy, which is his role

to my friend who is

distraught.  She isn’t asking

for your help.  I thought I

would.  And offer thanks

in agency for everyone.

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Tom Barrett on Unsplash

(detail)

 

6

Soliloquying

Soliloquying

(syllogistic)

 

If God is love

And God is a spirit

Then it might, it should

Follow that love is a spirit

And that a spirit is love

 

There are times when matter

Matters more

The flower on a table

The open door

The favor no one asked for

Nothing for a show except

To say

What we should say

 

Love is a spirit

And in something like eternity

Materials are messages

I don’t know how they rack up

When it’s not a game

Though love should be fun

And sad

And hard, sometimes

 

Remembering to keep it small

Might help,

Remembering

The larger things, too

I guess I’m saying

Not because of me

 

Nonetheless

Spirit and matter

Keep it real

 

C L Couch

 

 

notes

 

John 4:24

God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.

1 John 4:8

He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love.

 

It might be synchronicity, more likely inspiration.  The day before drafting this verse, I was reading Jane Dougherty’s excellent exegesis of two Scripture verses at Jane Dougherty Writes (https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/2020/05/21/gospel/).  I so highly recommend her blog (https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/).

 

Photo by Ralf Skirr on Unsplash

 

4

Call the Question

Call the Question

(probably poem-prose)

 

I’d like the Earth

To like us

I’d like to like us, too

Too much is hard

Around the world

Nature’s parts

The parts we’ve made

And otherwise have taken

 

I’m still dealing with

Burnt bread

The smell

I didn’t know the microwave

Could burn bread so well

The toaster, yes

Live and learn

 

That was a mistake

There are things more attributable

To will

Now I’m asking all of us

To think what we have done

And, more importantly, what we

Now might do

 

Family is trite to say of Earth

Or even us

But community is

Acceptable

The recluse doesn’t

Own the planet

Nor does the self-styled magnate

The deserts are inhabited

Like the city

Different sorts of crowded beings

Finding home

And feeling it

 

And if we own, then we

Must own,

Which means accountability

We all have a part in

That who can, who is able

 

How many pebbles, how many

Ponds and circles overlapping

We could make of

Family—I mean, community

Through the smallest things

Each of us might do

 

Examples?

A pandemic,

Who wears a mask?

Who made it?

I have two masks, both made

By friends

Found out my sister and my nephew

Have been making them

And sending them around

Even ones with designer features

For my niece in Colorado

(they’re in North Carolina

I’m in Pennsylvania)

Easy example, anymore

Factories turned ‘round to retool

Templates, provide resources,

Make more

So that front-liners might

Breathe more easily and think about

The great,

Too often grisly

Work, instead

 

I can’t sew

But I can cheer them on

Who can

Maybe that will be job,

Cheerleader

And your job is making sandwiches

Or raising money

Or finding stories,

Seeing that they’re shared

Tired of hearing about the disease?

Well, we’re living it

Too bad

And, sorry, not much of a question

No news there

Except to say (and it’s not news

or shouldn’t be) that

Breaks are good

 

We can have other things,

Of course, and should

Games and walks and making something

Bright

To break the tedium

Or because a lark

Is fine from time to time

as larks are fine to hear

The community needs them all

 

But being drunk

Or otherwise practicing addiction

Goes down hard

Don’t think of it

There is no excuse

In a viral time

(or any)

Or for hoarding, by the way

Aren’t you sick of it?

 

Well, hypocrisy is hard as well

I must admit

I have a couple of rolls

Put by

But not a wall-full

Wait, I always have a couple

Of rolls put by

Well, I am a mask

For something else, I’m sure

I’m sure

 

So where are we?

We’re on Earth

Together, and if together

Has a name, it can be outside

Or humanity

And there are things we need

We can make

And do them

There are patterns that many places

In the Earth (and us)

Can teach

We can learn

We have the chance

If only we can share around

The means

 

We can make

We can mend

How about it?

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Mike Swigunski on Unsplash

Reykjavík, Iceland

Northern Lights outside of Reykjavik.

 

10

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