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three poems about light

three poems about light

by C L Couch

 

 

The Light We Make

 

White lights

Illuminate too much

I don’t like them

In headlights or in overhead neon,

Especially

Where is the dawn

That softly cascades on all

Things below

If it’s an emergency,

That’s one thing

But for day-to-day, why

Can’t we have gold

Freely delivered from

Heaven’s treasure

Or more homely manufacturing?

 

Better the dawn, I think,

For inspiration

A glimpse of visioning like

Angels,

A reason at the start of day

 

 

 

Galadriel Comes to Rivendell

(a Middle-Earth lyric)

 

In a penultimate age

Galadriel comes to Rivendell

To toast with Elrond

A Elbereth Gilthoniel

Whom shell they be meeting soon

On the first shore

Of unending

Once upon a timeless time

And everlasting

 

Well done, the half-elf declares

I knew you were hiding by

The gate

Hidden by my host, she corrects

They would not bear

To evidence my presence

So far from the

Golden wood of home

Where, alas, Celeborn remains

 

But ready, comes the declaration

From the host, back to the

Final battle,

Always ready, and she smiles

 

All our allies had not yet

Arrived

I would have gone to them

 

You would have commended

Or commanded all of us there,

I wonder

 

I would not have said a

Word

 

The authority of your magic

Is the message

In elvish silence

 

Even better, I think?

She sipped

 

And so they talked, old friends

As much as majesty and crusade allow

While the night inside faded

Outside a new day already

Transpiring

That would no longer know them

Might they leave

 

Yet a hint of Hollin

Goodness might remain

Where they once passed

 

[all the rest is benediction and epilogue]

 

So their time

Our time

An age between

Rises at dawn

Under a yellow, mortal sun

No longer blessed

By characters

And presence

 

A benediction before

They leave

All doors open wide

To welcome gratitude

Or rudeness

Mortals’ choice

 

An eagle’s blessing

Then all the keepers of blue flame

And light we cannot bear

Are gone

 

 

 

Misfit

 

The lights of heaven

Are too much for me

I cannot manage

Pure light that has other

Texture

 

I need light gobos through wisping clouds

And trees,

Dressed in motley by

All earthly forms and shadows

 

In the shade

Is fine for me

Though not in formless dark,

Please

 

Readiness for paradise

Means new lenses, I suppose

Like focusing kaleidoscopes

Or tracing light through prisms

I will adjust

Or be adjusted

By perfect agencies

Gate-keepers,

Heaven-defenders

Who see all clear

For ages, now

So will you

So will I

 

 

 

lantern

http://www.jesuitas.co/homilia_2121.html

 

4

Approach on Christmas Eve

Approach on Christmas Eve

 

Dark quiet night

Unbeckoning

 

Then a golden light

As a small bulb, bold

Enough

Against the darkness

 

Now a red gleam, same kind

Shines close by

 

And between the two,

Ridge lines of rounded bush

Are inferred to our sight

 

A porch lamp farther on,

And now we see the sidewalk

 

A platform sided by

Small walls,

Homely columns rising,

Leads to the door

 

The night has borders now

We feel invited

The world has definition,

And our way in

Is right

 

C L Couch

 

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Peace, Prevail

Peace, Prevail

(for the USA and all)

 

Red leaves on trees

Against the season’s

Bright blue sky,

Branches lightened in

Late-afternoon, autumn

Sun

 

Vision of nature

Hope for a nation

 

C L Couch

2

Red Sky at Night

Red Sky at Night

 

Retiring into the deep

Colors of the day

 

We come to the end

When light must give

Way to night

 

We sigh and with

Misty breath, exhale

 

Into the coming dark

 

No more arguments

To make against the

Day

 

Maybe a farmer’s

Understanding, for

There are evening

Laborers

 

Whose cycle will

Reverse the colors

 

Sorry, perhaps, for

Those who cannot

Read the final

Message in the dusk

Of dying day

 

Well, look to new hues

In the tellings that

Arrive, whenever

 

Daytime and

Nighttime meet, alive

10

after friends’ house fire (haiku)

I do not enjoy

Seeing your house without light

The fire takes too much

 

after friends’ house fire (haiku)

 

10

Fatima, Medjugorje

Fatima, Medjugorje

 

When Mary appears,

The sky dances

 

Circles of light and faith

Are made

 

First for children

 

There are those who

Doubt, which doesn’t

Matter (though the

Doubters matter)

 

God loves them, and

Maybe God’s mother will

Visit them sometime

 

And if you don’t believe

I love you, still

 

Maybe we’ll all gather

At Guadalupe where

Grown-ups can see

Her, if innocent enough

 

Though I’m never sure

If that means me

 

2

Pre-Dawn

Pre-Dawn

 

Birds are noisy

Waking up the rest

Of the world

 

Mist along the

Edges of the yard

A damp feel

 

Light enough for

Artificial lamps

Turning useless

 

Now earth turns

Over a bit to be

Washed by the

 

Day’s new air

Bending without

Voice the arcs

 

Of branches

Enough for them

To moan a little

 

Wind cleans night

With round beads

Of dew water

 

Surprise and

Comfort in the

Dawning tasks

6

31 January 2016 (in the global north)

31 January 2016
(in the global north)

I still wake up with jittery feelings. The sun is bright. The snow is melting down. Maybe I need it gone. But is that the boundary of my fear? I sit and look outside to see the beauty. I am inspired to come back and write a verse of two. Still, fear jumps inside me. At least it doesn’t leap. I’ll feel better, once I write a bit. Drink a hot drink, maybe take a pill or two pills. I know that on a good day my heart still operates in an iffy way. I know that what happened here was momentous. It’s momentous, still, outside. As in ancient Arabian architecture, I cherish space and righter light. Not simply looking out into amorphous glare. Rather the view of a virtuously bright and blue-skied world above with earth of desert browns beneath. Through arches made of genius and of grace, numbering the stars within each stone’s embrace.

I dream this is all easier, if not delightful, in a desert paradisal scene. Where arid becomes beautiful and free air moves through all, spirits borne and carried along. Maybe heaven’s healing wind will pause and wave upon me there, and I will feel and know something of the serene aspect of God.

Too much romance and earthly-bound, I know. But I need this. My fear frankly needs it, as does my hope and peace.

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