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On a Colorless Land

(x = space)

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On a Colorless Land

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That’s the problem with winter,

Isn’t it?

Everything is pale, unless

It’s dark with age

Or even death,

Blasted trees and such

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Snow is romantic

While it’s falling,

But if the temperatures stay low

Then the ground is white snow or,

Well, ground

For a long while

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There is no solution;

Painting earth won’t help

And what of the limpid winter sky?

Besides, there’s learning here

Via looking out,

Remembering that colors all are

Grand and

We should cherish them and use them

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I know, pretty straightforward

For a poem;

But I was thinking about

Recessive traits:

I have freckles on pale skin,

Blue eyes,

Left-handedness,

All sorts of other things, I’m sure

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For these, I don’t think

I’m worthless

Or you for your recessives

Or you for your dominants

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We can (all) have bold things,

Brings the colors in—

Keep them inside in other ways

Along with textures and

Unearthly sounds

And bell-like laughter

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The senses are bright

And always so

As we might manage them

x

Taste and see,

Hear and touch,

Smell—and time be released

For these

(from time to time)

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I don’t know about a wonderful life,

But it can be

And more so

A sensate life

In any season

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C L Couch

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Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash

Mixed media painting inspired by Stonehenge.

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4

Midnight Sun

(x = space)

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Midnight Sun

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I can’t help but imagine

A quiet and dark place

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Maybe a church

Maybe a campsite

Maybe in the desert

Maybe a quiet place at home

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It is late

There is candlelight

And whoever’s there

And there are people there

Is praying

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They are praying for the world

As if it were outside

And in greater peril

Than experience has known

In ages

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Great hunger lurks

And plans

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But here there is silent love

Propelling urgent works

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Peace

And intercession

Then knowing what to do

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C L Couch

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Photo by Emily Hon on Unsplash

Yellowknife, Canada

Aurora shine the whole night.

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Tactics

(x = space)

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Tactics

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It’s not as if we haven’t

Heard of war before

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It’s all around us, if we look

Around as a world

x

There are civil wars in Yemen

And in Syria;

We have sent weapons to these

For the profit

And the power

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They fight each other in Lebanon,

In South Sudan

x

Soldiers and often terrorists

In their own uniforms

Barely removed from uniformity

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And there the war

Of oppression,

Fought inside nations such

As those in Asia

And in the USA—

Call it something better,

If you wish,

If you must

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It’s not a peaceful world

But know peace:

We’ve heard of it,

We learn it,

And we teach it

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We negotiate

As if we deal with children

And sometimes with children

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There is an age

We have an age

When will the prophecy

Be Monday

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C L Couch

(from the USA)

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Photo by Foad Roshan on Unsplash

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3

The Magician’s Children

(x = space)

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The Magician’s Children

(Christmas 2020)

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It’s a magic time

The animals will talk at midnight

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Light of many colors

Will shine inside and outside

Of hours

And tall buildings in the city

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People who don’t believe

Will be quiet for a while

Almost in honor of the child

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Christmas might be

A chore for them,

But they take the quiet anyway,

Until the noises of the morning

In the household begin

x

And there are those who will be quiet

Because they are the only ones,

Each one in a home of sorts

To bring in the day

On one’s own

x

Each one has a job

To send out the peace

Just beyond, until the next one

Take it,

Send it out in thought or feeling

Or a prayer

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Others will be so busy

But the lonely could do this

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Create a spirit-band across the world

Through many places,

Many nations,

Many destinations

That can’t be reached yet

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Someday, perhaps

When we have enough health,

Enough determination,

Enough interest in the risk

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Merry Christmas to each one

And from each to everyone

Live in peace for a day

And remember that a day

Can be an age

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C L Couch

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Photo by Daniil Silantev on Unsplash

Ozero Turgoyak, Челябинская область, Россия

Ice on the Lake Turgoyak

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A Night to Remember

(x = space)

x

x

A Night to Remember

(Christmas Eve)

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So there’s this sleigh

A regrettable homonym;

It might be as big as a spaceship

In a science-fiction series,

One that might carry generations

To the next set

Of sun and planets

x

The sleigh could have a crew,

Though

We know of only one,

The captain and the power

That comes from reindeer

x

There are deliveries to make,

Though what might be most important

Is the trip around the world

In certitude

We have a world to play with

And work on

For keeping homes

With some promise of a future

Under brick and wood and canvas,

Stone and shale

x

Will it be a merry Christmas

For those who don’t believe?

Well, why not

x

No punishment is promised inside

Skepticism;

One might simply enjoy

The colors, the materials, the brilliant

Detritus, after

All the domestic parties

‘Round a tree or in another

Fine arrangement

Or in a place that looks the same

As it did the day before—

Thank goodness, there are no requirements

x

It’s a day,

A unique day we’ve held

In the offing

In anticipation

For a while

x

C L Couch

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A Night to Remember is the name of an old, bittersweet movie.

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By Sierra Nevada Space Systems – Sierra Nevada Space Systems, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=25460329

Artist’s conception of the Dream Chaser commercial human space transportation vehicle docked to the International Space Station.

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silent flesh

(x = space)

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silent flesh

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god made into flesh

while divinity wasn’t noticing

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how else could perfection

give up eternal everything,

knowledge and power

and everything we want

and some of us think we should have

right now

x

jesus, god and human

how hard must that be

and who among of us would do it

knowing invincibility would be

a memory, only

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as mortal, god would know us

as god might know a deer

or a rainbow

or unrequited love

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that is, from the inside out

from the other side of creation

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god will know us

as we live

give up a cure for every illness

prevention in perfection

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excruciating

loving

all love because

there is no other reason

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c l couch

x

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notes

x

reading a prayer that mentions (I think) God made flesh (or maybe it was human) in a baby

x

thinking of an old hymn whose lyrics I find haunting (with a haunting melody):

Let all mortal flesh keep silent

And in fear and trembling stand;

Ponder nothing earthly minded;

For with bless in his hand,

Christ our God to Earth descended,

Our full homage to demand

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Wellcome Collection, London, United Kingdom

The Body

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Set the Table

(x = space)

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Set the Table

x

We need a deal for

Christmas:

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  • Cessation in the

Holy Land

  • Bring children to their

families (everywhere)

  • Maintain a different kind

of readiness

(everywhere)

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There, that should do it

For this year

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Maybe there could be

Codicils

x

  • Let snow fall where it

will, again

  • Give something to the

Earth not to forget each

other

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It’s not the triumph of a

Sect,

Though tradition’s strong

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We are given again

A God-given chance

To revel in some revelry

With rules

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  • Give everyone a

turn

  • Give everyone a song

as in karaoke (and as

is often badly),

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Remembering that birth

Is the only way

For any generation,

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Any Earth,

Peace on Earth

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C L Couch

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By דן וינקלר – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=68503689

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note

In the original, the bulleted sets of lines are indented. I still can’t get WordPress to let me cut and paste the way I want. Grrrr. I mean, uh, I hope we all have a grrrr-eat holiday! (Now I sound like Tony the Tiger.) I hope the reading’s clear enough.

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Through and Through

(x = space)

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Through and Through

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Francis would say

I think

That God is in the split

Between the seasons

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That God knows

When it happens

And is there

To bless

The ending,

The beginning

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The solstice has passed:

God bless the solstice

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God bless new time

As gift

And chance

To get it right,

To let the garden

Sleep where

In Eden

Seeds of love were sown

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We rest over this

And what may grow,

Some of which

Say half,

Say maybe more,

Is our side of the promise

With the gardeners

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Keepers

Turned farmers outside

And warriors

And slaves

And liberators

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Inventors,

Criminals,

And movement-starters

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So much has happened

In the seasons;

Here’s a season now

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Decide,

Go to it

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C L Couch

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Photo by John Hult on Unsplash

Smedjan, Tollered, Sweden

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Heliopolis

(x = space)

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Heliopolis

(for the solstice)

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The Earth is torn today like

The veil in the temple;

The ground might not move

More than

Mountains explode and

Ice retreats

Anyway,

x

These days

In the climes especially

We are half-making,

Maybe more than half

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We still don’t have it right

To count,

Though we’ll more or less find

The moment when the Earth

In contract with the sun

Leans the other way

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We’d do just as well to consult

Ancient sources

x

A new season to begin,

The longer light graduated

Like a cylinder

(remembering the lines

are part of measuring, too)

Or a class of learners

Marked into life

x

We try to know:

Julian and Gregory have tried,

And now the atom

(also split)

And the nanosecond try

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But we know

There is a cycle,

And it’s always new

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A new season is born

That will have its dog days,

Some somber days,

Some driven

By some of us on either side

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There are sides now,

We must admit,

Between the foe of nature

And of us

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But we know that

There’s a cycle,

And it’s always new

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C L Couch

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Photo by Ryuichi Itakura on Unsplash

Stonehenge, Amesbury, United Kingdom

Stone Henge

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