image

Nowhere People

(x = space)

Nowhere People

I rock sometimes,

Seated cross-legged here

Between bouts of writing;

It works out my lower back

And keeps me in motion,

Which seems important

In the smaller ways

To do so;

I might like the rocking chair,

I don’t know;

There is an association

That could be revised:

Saving the rocking chair for age,

For those still in motion

Not going anywhere

C L Couch

Photo by Morgan Vander Hart on Unsplash

January 5, 2021 4

Ciara

Ciara

From the news, I wanted to get
The hometown right
Of the murdered girl

The search yielded a
Thoughtful, pretty image
Of the twelve-year-old

I’ll take it down, but for now
I fear to remove her from the
Screen—

As if saying good-bye
This way

Will make death, already decided,
Somehow more deeply

Done

January 15, 2016 0

Jacki K Challenge, memoir with image(s) and metaphors

(www.whatwillmatter.com at Google Images)

The painting might be depicting the story of Narcissus and Echo, but I can think of no better way to think of the self as through reflecting into glassy water. And the art looks like the pre-Raphaelites again, a favorite school of mine.

The Song of Myself by Christopher Whitman (by me)

The title is an homage, of course, a
Metaphoric salutation to the great
Transcendentalist, who also was
A correspondent in the Civil War, up
Close to the blood-washed fighting

Do I see myself as a war? I do not
But rather see myself as a struggle in
Stillness, like the water in a pre-Raphaelite
Painting—reflections on reality were
Important in that school; they are
Important to me now

I reflect and, as best I can, marvel at the
Metaphor so wondrously used by Paul
In his assertion that we see through the
Glass darkly for now—and like a dim
And frosted mirror, I see myself as best
I may, while on this side

The song about myself, then, that I might
Sing, is one of dissonance—I don’t know
If Whitman heard any of his words set
To musical notes and then performed—my
Song would be entirely syncopated and
In minor keys, a monstrosity of jazz, a
Movement barely born when he wrote
About the war and then about you and
Me

(www.dreamstime.com at Google Images)

You know, it’s impressive what you can search for while at or with Google Images. First, I searched “the self.” Then I searched for “a small house” and then “a small brick house,” because that’s what I was really looking for. And, I’m sorry, I selected two images because self and small house were too compelling to enter into competition.

My Small House

I lived in a small house after
Being born in a hospital since renamed

The photo above is neither mine nor
Theirs (the other members of my
Family), although the resemblance to the
Actual look is surprisingly close, because

I view this house only in memory now
And for some many years: a red-brick house
With greenery in front, behind; a pointed
House too small for four brothers and Mom
And Dad , and then my sister arrived—so

We were not there so long—and yet this
House is my earliest memory box; take
Off the top by grasping at the point, and see
Inside images of my father reading, my
Mother cleaning, and the me I saw
Once within a mirror, after coming home

From the hospital again—four, now, and
Having fallen onto the hard floors
(Wall-to-wall carpeting would be next,
For sure) and splitting my four-year-old
Forehead open: in this image, I see me

Head bound up, wearing my favorite
Shirt (I don’t know how I know this), red with
A seal stitched on the front and balancing
A ball upon his circus nose

Wound and red and balancing—metaphors
Too soon worked out in the troubled new
House

The Jacki K (5K? 10K? InfinityK?) Challenge, Day Four

Describe the image selected to go with the selected word.

This is a visual symbol in three parts. Someone added a heart, which I liked and used. But the symbol is six arcs from a circle, run through and turned upside-down in each part of three. The circles are connected and rely on the lines that connect each part. The symbol cannot be recognized or used if the three parts are separated. In fact, they can’t be separated.

There is a word for this symbol. It is a variation of something called triskelion. (Yes, I just looked that up. And not too well, so feel free to correct me.) The word sounds anthropological, and I imagine many cultures have a variant of this look. In Celtic Christianity, which dominated English religion until the seventh century, the symbol of three interlocking circle parts renders the Christian Trinity.

I picked this symbol because it represents my foundational belief in God, which is that God lives in relationship with us as God lives in relationship with God. In the traditional Christian worship service, all the senses are selected and employed. We see the Word; we hear the teaching and the music and in our greetings with each other. We smell incense. We touch the Host then taste it with the wine. So our parts in what this symbol means are interlocked as well.

There are many traditions, certainly, and those who follow no tradition. This symbol is for what I think, feel, and believe. I’m sure there are well-made symbols and well-used in many traditions and practices. And for those who follow none.

November 3, 2015 3