clcouch123

Planet Minerva

Planet Minerva

Except for Earth and

Uranus (a Greek divinity,

Parenting gods as well),*

We name

Our planets for gods of

Rome, perhaps stabilizing

Legacies

X, Y, Z—Planet X (not

Roman ten, since Pluto’s

Demotion) might need a

Name

If (say it “Iks”) Ix won’t

Work for (new) planet

Number nine,

I recommend Minerva,

Imposing wisdom on

Our solar notion that we

Are done meeting our

Planets

(*finished here or read

the note below

And on a profound-less

Note, if Uranus,

Pronounced either way,

Still leaves the

Audience dying, then

We could take the

Roman form for that

And call it Caelus or

Coelus, more sonorous

In transliteration)

June 8, 2016 8

Feats of Clay

Feats of Clay

I know he was no longer

Clay once he became Ali

I could not resist the pun;

And if you don’t recall,

If you never knew, he

Was a funny guy (funny

As the word “guy”)

Humor charged his

Boasts—reality charged

The rest that really

Mattered

He was the greatest:

Neither the floating

Butterfly nor the stinging

Bee would disagree—nor

Would opponents, once

Rested and articulate

Again

I heard athletic adversaries

Talking throughout the

Day

I also, years ago, watched

His performance in a

Television-movie: he

Played a humble man

Wanting to improve

Himself against the odds

No surprise, his character

Was convincing

In life, he proved his wider

Claims; he showed that

Black boxing can hit

History

I don’t like boxing, but I like

What he did

I like how he believed

Older than my siblings (I

Am in the middle), three

Of us from the same town,

Famous for other matters—

Horserace and the classic

Baseball bat

I’ll take him first for our

Shared city

And what he made there

Victory and better days

June 7, 2016 7

Weathering

Weathering

Storms, fire

Firestorms

That’s in California

Floods, tornadoes

Water-sheets

And other means

Of rain to strike

At us

Texas and in Florida

Where sand is

Bagged by convict

Volunteers—on

North through

Eastern USA

River-rise in Paris

Art treasures

Moved toward

More-protected

Ground

Certain seasons

Start all over (as

In again and

Everywhere)

In nature’s timing

And all storms’

Discretion

Selfishly, I am

Well above brick

Walkways and

Macadam streets

I have electric

In safe measure—

Mostly, though

Not always:

A tree smashed

Into the house

Not so long ago

A favorite book,

The Mighty Acts

Of God, a

Faithful book

Nature is God’s,

And the Christian

Claim is God is

Love

So what is the

Love here? It

Id that God loves

Us and leaves

Us the means—even

In, and as, a fallen

World

Our part to start

Redress is to resolve

To do so

That’s it: resolve

(The rest follows)

June 7, 2016 5

Low-Flying

Low-Flying

Slowly the manta ray

Unfolds and undulates

Descending, like an eagle

Of the air, through

Updrafts of ocean water

What it seeks I cannot

See, because its urgencies

Are defined so differently

Fill hunger? Slake thirst

That, in water, I cannot

Apprehend?

Or fly for delight in flight,

Ripping, tearing through

Sea currents, even while

Negotiating their fury

Can I fly as slowly as the

Ray? Must I?

Two ways of asking this,

I know: Must I not? Must

I not?

May I? And, if so,

Will I?

How much of creatures’

Movements, I wonder,

Depend on will

June 6, 2016 11

Scribbling Sensations

Scribbling Sensations

When I turn other things off,

I hear the air-conditioner hum with tiny teeth

I hear assurance from the fan beside my bed

I see the vertical textures in the lampshade of

The lamp that doesn’t work

I see a hat, purchased for walking, set cockeyed upon

The corner of a vintage-mirror frame

I feel soft touches as I type;

I hear the tapping of the keys upon the board,

Like Poe’s raven upon my chamber door

While my nose is in it, I smell and taste the coffee,

Hot enough for its vapor mildly to campaign

With warmth through my sinuses

I feel pain—more intense without distraction

I blink: I cannot hear it, though I know the upper lid

Has fallen on the lower (which will give a little)

and will rise and fall again

While other things are off,

I sense the world anew;

And, largely—like Genesis and Weldon Johnson’s

Work—I think it’s good

June 5, 2016 6

Toll-Taking

Toll-Taking

Death at UCLA, teacher

And then shooter, then

Spouse found, murdered

Before

Death-number increases

Of soldiers lost to flood

At Fort Hood in Texas

Migrants’ lives lost

Beyond counting, since

Too many die unknown

In Mediterranean waters

Or on western Asian

Battlefields

Nigerian school children

Lives erased, such is the

The plan of those who

Took them

And these are in the

Process of becoming old

Well-worn news, such is

Our way

Though beyond blame

Is the stress of bearing

Our world, a planet of

Dying

And of sorrow

Atlas shrugged, the novel

Claims? Atlas should

Have wept

Charon demands gold

For passage, though the

Real currency is life

June 4, 2016 8

Sunset Ramadan

Sunset Ramadan

(5 June 2016)

I have memories

Of a Ramadan, a

Rosh Hashanah, too

I like the Christian

Holidays, but others

From these faiths

Invited me

To ritual and cuisine

And, best of all,

Community

Love permeates

Actions when they

Are in spirit

Inch’Allah

And our God is

Pleased when we

Are one

Shalom

June 3, 2016 14

Here’s News (and a Haibun)

Here’s News (and a Haibun)

(1)

Here are three news leads from The Guardian:

The United Nations has for the first time signalled its “human rights obligation” over the deadly cholera outbreak in Haiti that has claimed the lives of at least 30,000 people.

‘It’s only working for the white kids’: American soccer’s diversity problem [headline]

Yesterday, a report came out that said more than 1,000 migrants and refugees have died just in the last week while crossing the Mediterranean.

(2)

Everyone on all sides of things is falling down. UN peacekeeping. Soccer, the world’s sport. Migrants we don’t count who die. Doesn’t help my own precarious feelings about stability or sanity in the world. Doesn’t help the fragility in me or mine. On this side of apocalypse (only frightening for some), what might we save? In order to retain poetics, I’ve refrained from news of politics today. I doubt anymore the answer’s there.

(3)

Black box of the plane

Black box of refugee’s boat

Black box of sea’s depths

June 3, 2016 4

EpicalAward4EpicAwesomeness

My recommender!

https://mandibelle16.wordpress.com/

https://mandibelle16.wordpress.com/2016/05/31/award-epically-awesome-award/#comment-10341

Rules:

Display the Award in your post, mention your nominator [above], link back to them [link-post above], answer five questions, and nominate five to ten others.

Questions [my replies beneath my nominations]:

What made you choose WP as your blogging platform?
Introduce yourself and tell us about your blog.
Are you a once in a while blogger or a daily one?
Do you wish to publish and if so, what type of book?
What is your favorite thing to do besides write?

Nominees

[feel free to respond to the nominations with writing; feel free not to; feel free simply to bask]:

Stray Coffee Breaks (who manages a cuppa with two puppies afoot), https://straycoffee.wordpress.com/

A Reading Writer (who’s been writing about coffee and love, too), https://areadingwritr.wordpress.com/

Invisible World (read Hashna!), https://invisibleworldd.wordpress.com/

Moonskittles (start by simply enjoying the name), https://moonskittles.wordpress.com/

Only 100 Words (for narratives and challenges), https://only100words.xyz/author/sonyca/

Sabethville (for limericks and important translations), https://sabethville.wordpress.com/

AngieInspired (like Archimedes, moving the world), https://angieinspired.wordpress.com/

Question Replies:

I don’t remember.
Christopher Leo Couch. Christopher for Christopher Robin. Leo for my father’s name. Couch because a thousand years members of my clan made cushions for uncomfortable medieval furniture (otherwise) made of wood and stone. My blog is about poetry. I got to know the blogosphere through the Blogging University’s poetry class. I’ve been writing for years and taught writing, too.
I blog daily now. For maybe half a year by now. I started the blog while recovering from surgery. I found writing was one of the few things I could so with relative ease. I journaled daily (instead of haphazardly) and then moved to the blog. I continue both daily.
I would like to publish a small book of poetry, hardbound. When going to a bookstore, I go to the poetry section (often having to hunt for it), and it’s a treat when I find a small hardbound (I guess a better work is clothbound) book of poetry. For instance, Mary Oliver’s poems tend to appear this way. So my writing dream is this.
Spend time in the world. Be in touch—visit, when possible—with family, friends, and neighbors. Go to stores and enjoy the strangers I encounter there. Take drives to nowhere in particular. Track the world’s events through various media. Then spend time away from the world. Have relative quiet. Read. Write, often nothing in particular. Think probably like Pooh-bear. Enjoy honey definitely as does Pooh-bear.

I responded to the questions given, though I imagine others could re-work the questions to suit themselves or to put forth to others. There’s seems to be good precedence for this in the blogging world.

Thanks, Mandi!

Thanks, blogging community!