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3 poems, when you have time

(x = space)

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3 poems, when you have time (one poem about observation, one about reading, one about war taking all)

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Observe and Report

x

For preamble

Nothing like

The burdens of a people

Upon Joshua

Or Caleb

x

What’s petty

What is meaningful

Too often

I don’t know

I pick up a stone

It’s not a park

There are no regulations

I take the thing with me

Becomes an artifact

At home

x

I am reminded

Of the Earth

We are set on

So many layers

To the center

Countless to go out

Again

To try to count

x

Clueless

It and I

While it’s supposed to be

And I think I should know something

About the atoms

The formation

Its place

Near my fingers

When I found it

When I take it up

Look upon it

Now

x

x

Read Me

x

Not unlike the words

Commanding

Alice

To forward

Her adventure

x

Words

Well

Words have

Such value

So the lines are short

While

Reading slowly is advised

Going slowly

Generally

x

Yours should be read

This way

As well

x

Time is a treasure

Though we should parse it out

Surrender it in particles

x

Not worrying so much

About the measure

Since the bill

Of sale

Is not our own

But investment the creator made

Inside creation

x

So let’s take our time

As said

Although again

It’s not our own

But lent

At best

And for our use

Simply

As use

x

Please take time to read me

I’ll take time

Reading

You

And then there’s

The needful time

For vital

As in lively

Response

x

x

War and After, After

x

The wars go on

Again

I can’t imagine

The explosions

The dust

The rubble

And the blood

Beneath

x

And the things of blood

Of bodies

That once held the lives

Of souls

While here on Earth

x

Now stolen

As if by gods

Self-styled

With machines

Black and pretty

Smithed

In hell

x

And this is metaphor

Impressions

The real thing

For those alive

Is all about

The running

Avoidance of more anything

Like that

Again

x

And then it happens

There is more

It’s worse

Nothing inside ourselves

Ever

Really

Gets used to it

x

And then

Maybe there’s a moment when

The silence rings

Notes of nothing

Anymore

While looking

Touching

For flesh containing life

We might embrace

To take

And to offer

What we have

x

And there might be people

Come from

Too short a way

To find us

For ourselves

To treat us

Representing

Something clean

And institutional

Away

x

We might be taken there

Where

Objectless walls

Close in

With noises in the distance

Or have we brought them with us

And is it noise

That closes in

The distance

x

We need medication

Sedative

To leave all this

Except for bodies

That have names

xxxxxWe cherish both

xxxxxWe want them

xxxxxHave to search for them

xxxxxTo know them

xxxxxAnd to have them

xxxxxOnce again

x

Though we might have to settle

In without response

While life is measured

Sometimes

Without

The power to the building

And their efforts

And the dust

And rubble

That came in with us

x

The war

The damning war

The reason we say bloody

For the worst

Things we can think of

x

Fleshly containers

Holding flesh

Until they must

Let go

x

Who are they

What are their names

Who are we

Where are we going

x

War take all

Peace for the remnant

The ghostly revenant

Left over

The dust

Of everything that’s taken

For what’s left over

To remain

x

x

C L Couch

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Photo by Ansia Lasa on Unsplash

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Just-So Story

(x = space)

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Just-So Story

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God is like dust upon the floor,

Too easily swept up,

Cast out, forgotten ‘til it

Appears again

And we take it as

Nuisance

x

No, it is not God

(bits of God’s creation)

But a metaphor,

Since we so easily ignore something

That is everywhere

So easily ignored

x

And move to name detritus,

An inconvenience to

Our just-so lives,

Just so

x

 C L Couch

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Rudyard Kipling wrote Just So Stories.  Note from an English teacher.

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photo by Chalaphan Mathong on Unsplash

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9

Quasi una Fantasia

(x = space)

x

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Quasi una Fantasia

x

More gray skies—

I know the sun is healthier

But the gray doesn’t show

The dust bunnies in

Their warrens, which

Creatures I’ve

Discovered like to roam

The place at night,

Which is why there are

So many new signs

In the morning

x

Like gray skies, I’ve come

To like dust bunnies;

They do not eat real carrots,

And the only thing

Like pellets is

More dust upon the floor

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Mattia Astorino on Unsplash

Riserva Naturale Torbiere del Sebino d’ Iseo, Corte Franca, Italia

I see you

x

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Layperson’s Weekend Liturgy

(x = space)

x

x

Layperson’s Weekend Liturgy

x

Everything seems

A little off today

There are dry spots

In the roll,

And the coffeemaker

Appears to have made

Less coffee

x

The sun’s a little

Too bright, the blue

A little too pale

x

I see the dust too easily,

Which I’m sure

Is no one’s fault

But my own

x

I’m not sure why

The hazy and hard

Parts are the ones

I focus on; maybe they

Are focusing

On me, though

By and large

I think that nature and

The world really

Don’t care, nor should

They have to

x

So I’ll take this day

In my dusty, unclear

World as a gift,

Something bestowed

By what caused me

To sleep last night,

What woke me up

This morning

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by PJ Gal-Szabo on Unsplash

Baseball catcher with the dust of his mitt in the air.

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Too Good a Day

(x = space)

x

x

Too Good a Day

(not really)

x

Blue and green

And black and brown,

All in their places

It’s a grand day—

Pretty as a picture,

Some might say,

Though I think it goes

The other way around;

The dust-bunnies

Could come out

To play except that

I would see them,

Which is the drawback:

The sun is good upon

The rugs, and I can see

Everything I should

Be picking up

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Mathew Schwartz on Unsplash

Elk County, United States

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Gospel According to Rubbermaid

Gospel According to Rubbermaid

 

I just opened a box

A small container

I breathed old air that smelled of

Cinnamon and dust

 

That was all right

That was special

I was thinking of ancient mummy wraps

This was so much better

I guess I had it in the kitchen

Or maybe not

Maybe the box had become

A certain gift over time

Of its own

A sweetness mixed with age

I hear that happens

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Aditya Joshi on Unsplash

A picture taken at a spice stall in the famous spice market in Dubai showing an interesting pattern created by cinnamon sticks on display. With a limited light falling on the subject, the background automatically became dark creating a deep effect.

 

3

Lent 7

Lent 7

 

A week from Mardi Gras

(fat Tuesday, )Shrove Tuesday,

Fastnacht that in

Pennsylvania (USA) is a doughnut

 

And the observance

What did we shrive,

We shrove the house of fat

Of everything extravagant that might

Distract us

From the discipline

Of remembrance and devotion

For the coming days

 

Okay, so what did we really do:

We might have had our fun on Tuesday

But who’s to say the next day was

Somber

It should have been, I guess

A mood for taking ashes if for nothing else

 

Though there was something,

Something not to miss

The start of a new season

Not as fun as Advent

 

Without the fire that comes with

Pentecost

Let alone the triumph that is

Easter

 

There is an odd coupling as well

Since spring is starting now in northern climes

There are signs

Today there has been sudden warmth outside

 

There are springs of a green kind

Winter-washed

There are signs

Of nascent life

What shall we own, then

Of dust or seedlings?

 

Maybe we take both

To have a time of stillness and of energy

A quiet dynamo

Fueled for the change by fragrant remembrances

In growth

 

C L Couch

 

 

DeFacto – Own work

Warwick Castle water-powered generator house, used for the generation of electricity for the castle from 1894 until 1940

 

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Pilings

Pilings

 

I live by piling things

Maybe you do, too

If not, you’ve saved yourself

From a lot of dust

It’s the books

 

I’m gleaning, though the

Stacks remaining still look

Awfully tall

And the size of some

What made me think I should

Have texts as sizable as

Tables?

 

And here’s the thing:

I need shelves

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Eugenio Mazzone on Unsp

 

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