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Conscious

Conscious

 

Breathing through the blanket

It’s still dark

And relatively quiet

 

I could be in church at dawn

In the first, silent moment

Before collective observance of

The first hour of the day

Earlier there might have been a vigil

 

I was sleeping then

Concomitant, mundane

Prone without taking vows

Simply waking up, as

Anyone could do

There is nothing sacred happening

 

Unless waking is miracle enough

A merest gift offered

Toward a maker’s satisfaction

 

C L Couch

 

 

José Luis Filpo Cabana – Own work, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=44496498

Sepulcro de una princesa no identificada.

 

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Slow Pitch

Slow Pitch

 

Today is a day for slow pitches

An easy game of baseball

In the backyard

I don’t know what Englanders

Play in the backyard

Catch, I suppose

Can one practice cricket?

 

We used to play croquet

My father had to win every game

We learned to play it hard

Hard croquet, now that’s a laugh

A tempest in a teapot

But it set a pattern

 

Slow pitches, please

It’s Monday, and I’m tired

I left my glove back in the ‘60s

I want to play, I really do

Don’t leave in the bunker

Don’t pick me last, which is

Not a pick at all

 

Maybe I’ll stay on the porch today

Let someone else have the backyard

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash
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It’s Not a Race

It’s Not a Race

 

We take chances

Just to breathe

But breathing’s good

We should stay with that

 

We should keep going

We don’t need to manufacture

Inspiration or wait

For it to fall as

A perfect weight from heaven

 

There are things to believe in now

Silly things and absolutely vital

I’m thinking babies

To get to know and fight to keep

I’m thinking neighborhoods

To get to know and fight to keep

I’m thinking other people

And the babies, too

If not first of all

 

First of all,

There’s God

More than ninety percent of the world

Would agree

And all of nature, too

We can listen for God’s word

Spoken through wind

And words in good books

 

We can’t afford to be crazy now

The world is too close

Though there’s still room

The sense of it could be

That here’s a planet:

We are here

Others will follow

Someday we will leave

It would be good because we choose to

 

We are old

We are new

Please, let’s keep trying

The day might not be waning

It does not matter yet

There’s time

There’s play between the seconds

Elastic possibilities

Keep breathing

Keep moving

 

C L Couch

 

Photo by Ryoji Iwata on Unsplash

Shibuya, Japan

 

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Many Times Sing a Christmas Carol

Many Times Sing a Christmas Carol

 

There are so many renderings

Of A Christmas Carol

 

I have my favorites, Sim’s and

Finney’s (he’s my favorite

Poirot, too)—not simply done many

Times but rewritten:

Scrooge as a woman (only two times

That I know of), Marley as the lead,

Ballet, opera, one-person

Show, and shows of many other

Kinds

 

It’s the happy ending, I suppose

Though it might be the theme

That is not Christmas (sorry) but

Redemption

 

Maybe in art as in life, we all

Want to be saved

 

Christmas, by the way, comes off a

Character, almost the protagonist—for

If not the hero of a savior being born,

How could there be the rest?

 

I do want God to bless you, everyone

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Shaouraav Shreshtha on Unsplash

Wishes and Bells

 

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Book of Hours

Book of Hours

 

There’s dawn

It comes on gradually

With time to say

Hello, new day

 

I appreciate the civility

Dawn is polite

A spot of deeper yellow

Almost orange

With pale light on top

Kind tones of gray

On the other side

 

Maybe this is why

The sun is our brother,

Moon our sister

The sky offers sibling intimacy

Closeness with Earth

Is promised

Lessons in real hours

Given

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Artem Sapegin on Unsplash

Saxon, Switzerland

Saxon Switzerland sunrise

 

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Toast

Toast

(lids on hot food for now)

 

I woke up with a cold

I don’t care

I have this hour

And a day that could go twenty-four

Or become an age

As in day of the dinosaur,

Which is a really long day

 

You woke up this day with what you have

I hope it’s good

And if it’s not,

I hope it gets good and even better

For the hardship

 

We are awake

We have today

There’s sunshine somewhere

And out there the stars are turning

Movement proves life

Be easy

Or be crazy

Have a thought for someone else

And what she’s going through

 

We’ll see each other soon

Dancing in the skies

The circle won’t be broken or

Truth made out of lies

 

Now thinking-reverie must pause

Because there’s food and drink somewhere

And labor must be easy for a time

I hope we find the feast

Thank the host

Thank the guest

Hang on, if we must

Go in, because we can

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Mark Cruz on Unsplash

New York, United States

 

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The Noise

The Noise

 

I think I hear street-sweeping

Wrong day

No, it’s a plane

The noise is now stentorian

Now it’s Doppler-fading

A truck going through town?

No follow-up

Wet tires, maybe

On other cars

Scattered showers were predicted

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Daniel von Appen on Unsplash

 

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Old Times There

Old Times There

 

It’s an unordained day

Unornamented, too

Too soon for everything like that

Late November, cold and chilly

Sky flat with pale gray,

Everything else dark against it

A perfect day for candlelight, I think

Maybe pretend it is an older time

When caves were justified

Along with houses

And people might keep moving for

A life

A livelihood as tinkers, fighting

For hire, or maybe storytelling

In a common room

Manor or pub

(I don’t think churches or temples

were lent out)

Small town, desert place,

Or greater city

 

Told, though I think sung

Maybe couplets, maybe rhymes

A language we will never speak again

Food and drink for fees,

Maybe coins

A night to sleep inside

Up and out next day

To travel to whatever

In an older age provides

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Moodywalk on Unsplash

New Delhi, India

Some magic is happening in every moment, have a close look.

 

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a cycle with some silliness

a cycle with some silliness

 

 

Late Fall in the Hall

 

There is a little mouse who comes to call

And I don’t mind at all

Sometimes it brings a little ball

I don’t know where it lives

Inside the wall

 

 

Toothynessnessness

 

He has a toothy grin

He is on TV

I think maybe Andy Griffith had one, too,

With which he meted justice from

Atop Mount Airy

 

There are many such white soldiers

In a line

But I mean

The grin that’s broad and happy

To meet us

With a couple of the sentries

Maybe a little out of line

(too tired from the night before,

these guards)

 

I like teeth

I know we need them

Maybe in the next round of adapting

Not so much

The tearing of

What was foraged in the wilderness

 

They don’t need to be bright

The face together is

More important

They should remember that

 

Chomp away and like the riddle

Champ

Have fun with

What you have

Enjoy the need

 

 

It’s Time, I Need to Practice

 

There is a tune in my head

Oh no, it’s a Christmas song

I think

A new tune, I don’t know the words

Woe is me for falling

And in ignorance

Moreover

I can’t sing along

 

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Duffy Brook on Unsplash

This with the other two shots with Santa hats on puppies is from a shoot I did to promote a local puppy rescue organization: lisaparkerspuppies.com. We’ve fostered over 30 puppies with LPP. The pups inspire me to get out and take pics! Remember to adopt—don’t buy your next best friend.

sorry, dog (for the hat—maybe you like it—nah)

but Duffy’s right—the message is not silly

 

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