2 poems about angels
angels at the apocalypse
they all be working
I imagine
though I guess there could be some
held in reserve
I don’t know if our angels will have time for us
but then
I don’t know how many there are
even
if a third fell
how do we count these
and I doubt on
the head of a pin
Jesus said
legions
but he was audience-aware
maybe we’ll have our guardians on
assignment
still
with enough to fill the final battlefield
archangels
leading
taking care of their eldritch own
and all good beings might
weep
in
conquest
and by victory
ourfield
the wings are never long enough
not wide enough
not
wild enough
you’ll note
that birds
except the hummingbird phenomenon
tend toward having
twice
with length of wings as of
their bodies and how
much
more majestic
fearful
wings proportional unfolding from the centers
of the angels
we rarely indicate their power
or
the awe they should invoke
if
a fraction of the might of
their maker
c l couch
photo by Marek Studzinski on Unsplash
“Angels in the Outfield,” a story by Richard Conlin, which began a film franchise
(x = space)
x
x
Invitation from Earth and Sky
x
Briefly then,
There are good things
On the earth
And inside sky
And inside far below
We can ask for
Closeness to good things,
And we should:
x
For good warmth
From the sky,
Good feeling in our bodies,
Good reason for
Decision-making
x
The substance of the
Asking might be
Prayer of a kind of
Cosmic negotiating
For agnostics
x
Either way
Or with simpler hope,
We can let goodness
Have its way
With core and crust
And breathy atmosphere
x
Inhale, exhale—
Walk to stretch things out
x
Extend our fingers,
Reach out with our palms,
And turn our wrists
x
The cosmos will
Appreciate our reaching out
So and more so
Would the mortals
And the ineffable
x
Let all mortal flesh keep silent
And in fear and trembling stand
x
Each year there is an advent
And most days,
Our response invited
x
Our planet awaits
As does everything beyond
The sky that our shiny satellites
Detect, now draw from
For extraterrestrial
(extra-lunar)
Samples
x
The maker awaits
Here and there as well,
Inviting us inside
Community, one by one
And altogether
To believe
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Vidar Nordli-Mathisen on Unsplash
Strong wind, frost and rays of sunlight created this wonderful pattern on my windshield.
x
“Let All Mortal Flesh” is an old hymn out of the Christian tradition.
A newer hymn, “Earth and All Stars,” also comes to mind.
x
Made Up
It’s Sunday
Maybe I should think something
Religious
I’m two days behind the Jews
Only one day after
The Adventists
And for those who never keep a sabbath
Why miss out on
The rest
It’s inside-out
Or should be
Take the time to know the heart
Four chambers to walk through
A mind that is a ride
In a synapse car
None of this is religion
But there’s something about
Wonderfully made
That comes to mind, while
I’m on the synapse-ride
In a park with a
Neuron saucer
What would I configure
If I had to make up me
It’s been done with
Someone who has more
Art and skill than
I shall ever have
In fact, the one who
Made the ride to
Set me on this course
C L Couch
clcouch123 
Recent Comments