the wanderer
(after losing everything)
winter arrives
there might be a storm
of ice and snow
in days
I’m not ready
but I’m never ready
not when I have so little
with which
to endure
I’d sell my soul
for food
and warmth
but God won’t let me
there is still the notion
of my soul
that is
assayed as worthless here
but might
be worth something
set on a scale
for heaven
so I shall
persist
until my spirit
has run dry
of blood
and will
and pray to God
that I’ll be taken easily
once warmed before I die
and only so much
before
having arrived
I’m washed in comfort
and apology
in paradise
c l couch
inspired by “The Wanderer,” a poem from a millennium ago at least, and by pressing issues now
photo by Noah Silliman on Unsplash
Once and Future
Camelot has fallen
The last knight rides
Away
Into the sunrise
Of the first day of the year
So Tennyson decided
Maybe based on information
Or more by
Insight
That had moved the poet
Through
Construction
And destruction
The rising
And the falling
Raised by music
Like cathedrals
Or said the poet’s peers
By the command of
Merlin
While depicting in
What must have seemed
Indomitable stone
All ascent and descent
In
Human ages
By
The wizard’s art
At its command
Now fallen also
The unearthly being
Sealed away
For now
And we are left
To ride away with Bedivere
Into our uncertain year
As
A matter of courses
When this hearing is done
And in our case
Unready for the courts
Ideals
By betrayals
Story-slain
As if by Mordred
Also
Guinevere
And Lancelot
All exposed
As our
Baser impulses toward
Ruination
Wrecking the foundation
Into rubble
That can
Support nothing like
The comely towers
Anymore
What kind of year
Is this
Where is the refuge
For the refugees
Shall Camelot be rebuilt
If only by words
In songs
Until we have the might
For right
To try again
With mortar in
Our stanzas
For now
On this first day
The sounds of riding
Harsh
Like our discourse
Now concluded
‘Til we open up
The pages of our lives
Again
While in a distant place
Already to be set
In camouflage by nature
The final
Burning
Broken stones of the last battle
Settle into
What had been
A part of Earth
More glorious
Somehow
By us
C L Couch
. . .
Or thought he saw, the speck that bare the King,
Down that long water opening on the deep
Somewhere far off, pass on and on, and go
From less to less and vanish into light.
And the new sun rose bringing the new year.
from “The Passing of Arthur,” concluding Idylls of the King by Arthur, Lord Tennyson
Photo by Jigar Panchal on Unsplash
so this becomes a song
so this is new year’s
and what have you
hung over?
shall we have
pork and sauerkraut?
a pretzel
or a pickle?
this is new year’s
and what we done?
it’s only been a day
we protest
not even that
but some of you are there
helping others
serving food
an arm around a shoulder
sending vibes of love
because it’s really love
we can do that
now
no waiting
no line
and if a line
(you know air travel,
certain movie tickets)
then
loving in line,
a happy
if not always chortling
new year
C L Couch
(a hangover is referenced, which may not translate well; a hangover is a state of drunkenness, especially in the morning after too much drinking of alcoholic drinks during the night before)
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash
huevos nuevos
it's next year here and there
already
have a happy
to say
knowing that the challenges
also here and there
are many
deep
and difficult
but find a way
we shall
or can
by saying to ourselves
to this at that
or to someone else
I need your help
a new year
(in solar terms)
try it
love it
have it
clc
(Title—sorry, it’s a silly pun that, once I found and it held on, I or it could not escape. Happy New Eggs, everyone!)
I hope you won’t mind a brief note to say that a poem of mine, previously unpublished, is now published. I just got the good news from MasticadoresUSA. The poem is “Necessary Stories” and is at https://masticadoresusa.wordpress.com/2023/12/30/necessary-stories-by-c-l-couch/.
I know experiences vary, but I worked with Barbara from the site and group, and she was terrific. Yes, because she published my work but more so because she responded constructively, specifically, and positively to what I had submitted for consideration. I’ve rarely experienced the helpful interaction I enjoyed with her. It was substantive and friendly. As an educator and an evaluator of writing (say, that of nervous students), I can say that both aspects are vital.
Anyway, thank you MasticadoresUSA. Thank you, Barbara. Thank you, my readers here.
C L Couch
(Christopher)
I didn’t, by the way, write to a prompt. (Prompts are good.) I was simply writing on the theme of story.
In the Day of the Lord
Well
God
What shall you give
Today
There is the day
There will be daylight
Well-
Insinuated
In an hour or so
There will be more
Time
In hours
Time to choose
For those
Who may choose
Who aren’t
Conscripted otherwise
Drafting
Oneself
For cause
But then
The cause
Might be a wonder
How about family
About
The partner
Who works out
In
Intimacy
As well as
What is profound
When about one’s nation
Call it people
Call it country
Group
Tribe
State
Region
Everything that has a name
Maybe a living
Constitution
For a document
For walks
The simple
And sublime
Which faces our distraction
And decisions
All the time
And certainly
Today
And God
There is more than patriotism
There is the reason for it
And the rest
That is
Well
You
And what you say
You make
What you say and make
That is creation
Whose pages form
A scripture
Every day
And then the book itself
Shelved
We take down
Perhaps
We hear someone else
Reading
And from which
Some teaching
Though the hour
Is a sermon
Too
This hour
Then the next
Should we have the next
Odds say
We’ll have
Inside our complex bodies
Have a day that’s plain
Landing here or there
Pleine aire
Or chez lui
And should one
Ask oneself
About salvation
Or get the question
From another
Answer
We hope so
C L Couch
Photo by Alex Guillaume on Unsplash
[photographer’s caption] In New York, in a little shop, those watches where there, hanging in front of me!
(x = space)
x
x
Torn Flags for a Second Anniversary
x
Russia attacks
It’s in the news
The biggest
In two years
And we must say
Two years
x
Maybe he looked out
Upon the anniversary
And said
To generals
Still extant
Finish this
Forgetting that one human will
Is not enough
For playing
God
Not being God
Over the world
x
Too big
Too complicated
Too many wills
For one set
Set to prevail
x
Campaigns stutter
Exhausted
Of all things
All attacking things
Then sometimes
Pushed the other way
x
What do Russians
Think
And how will we ever know
We should imagine
They’ll all over
As we are
However our side might be
Arranged
As another side
x
There is other news
But this is bad
And we forget
Too easily
Though it is human
To hold many things
At the same time
And to serve life
In more
With more
Than one of these
x
Serve pleasure
Serve delight
Serve causes
Serve what means something
And what means something
In between
x
But Russia has attacked
Pushed itself
Over a cliff
To fall upon Ukraine
With so much
Following collision
Mixed with gravity
Judgment and history
To follow
x
Except that now
There’s blood
And everything that’s ruined
Killed in war
Everything stone
And all materials
Destroyed
And how shall it be over
Without being over
Probably
x
But frankly in a worse place
Both shall remain
So much more singly
Than together
Without extraordinary measure
That leaders
Cannot advocate
For now
Though maybe people
Like us people
At last will have a say
So that
Some things might end
The better things
Starting with rebuilding
What might be rebuilt
Mourning
For the loss
That can’t be found
Raised up
By us
Again
x
But raising
Rising
Nonetheless
What we are capable
What we are willful
To build
And have
Upon our lives
What we can manage
Share
Again
Or if need be
(as an impulse
and a pattern)
From the first
A new first
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Wolfgang Mennel on Unsplash
Layering of Posters on a Lamppost
x
(x = space)
x
x
Looking Out from Earth
(considering)
x
Inside wars
We’re living inside wars
And it’s a hate-able
Life
Explosions all around
We feel the blood
And everything
Left over
That had been
Our families
Our better nation
x
And I’m not there
Most of us
Are not there
We hear the counts
We see the numbers
And they’re
Too often
In the courts of numbers
Not outside
Where we
Suburban breathe
And have our way
With local stresses
Only
x
Take thou
Our breath
Away
Let us be like those
Having only dust
Inhaling
And nothing for a meal
With no electricity
To see nothing by
x
It can be like this
On all sides
Who live in darkness
Really
Who think
Like Sneetches
Adding fangs
And cells
That they have the light
x
And after all the irony
The hatred
That is
Sibling
It’s all over
While it’s never over
Too many names shall stand
We could not stamp them
Out
Or their recollection
As Ukraine
Palestine
Russia
Or Israel
Tibet
Burma
The Rohingya there
Maybe Ceylon
Rhodesia
See
Some things should change
x
While other things
Remain the same
People as people
Breathing
Pulsing
Moving
Having life
Allowably
x
Whom to indict
Why
I don’t know
I’m sure
My country fights the war
On terror
And on drugs
How are these going
x
Bless the advances
Harbor the retreats
x
The war
Inside the war
The war
To end all wars
The war of heart to heart
Chamber to chamber
Fluid all around
When sick
Ready to squeeze
Ready to say
I’m sorry that I made you
I’m going to try another world
Now
I mean it
This time
x
War is hell
So maybe hell is war
Forever conflict
Always killing
One thing or another
Nothing qualified
To escape
That is
Live after
Lest we
Let some chiefing of our making
Some cabal
With secret knowledge
Take over
And perhaps
We never know
x
So count our organs
Count our limbs
Count every hope
Still shelved somewhere
And in daylight
Bring it out
You have to sometime
That’s the risk
In living
Anywhere
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Richard Gatley on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Hard-Fought
x
1
It’s been Christmas
x
Time for anyone
Generally
Though call it Christian
If you like
x
The good news
Being
Christmas is
For everyone
Its pagan roots supposed
If not exposed
Its re-interpretation
Now
Undoctrinaire
x
We fight to move
City to city
And then back
And while we’re there
Have only
Worldly expectations
The right recipe
The perfect
Gift
Though true believers
Outside packs
In daylight know
There’s no perfection
Please
x
Expectation
Slaying those
Inside
‘Til they escape
To ten thousand feet
Or more
With extra oxygen
Again
x
2
Quiet believing
Rather
In a country church
Before the altar
Or the table
Utilizing
Oldish forms
For worship
Or maybe
Remembrance alone
x
Faith might be small
Its absence we
Bring with us
Where it is dark by
Candlelight
x
Dim revelations only
Through
Our liturgies
x
But silence
While the world cracks
Outside
We found this hour
To remind ourselves
Within a sect
Of our
Sometimes surprised
Devotion
To the words about
The importance
Of
What’s important
x
3
We’ll take with us
Some revelation
With us
For a while
After
‘Til the urban
And suburban worlds
Shall fall on us
Again
x
Clarity lost like paradise
A cover
We had not requested
Pushing holy air
Inhaled
Out into the dust
From falling
Failing acquisition
We say
Means
Christmas morning
The hours and
Days after
Rather than faith
For acquisition
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Andrew Seaman on Unsplash
x
clcouch123 
Recent Comments