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Middle-Earth

Floods, Swords (two poems)

(x = space)

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Floods, Swords (two poems)

could read the second of them while waiting on the first

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Consider Extra Floods

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Jackson

And Jacksonville

Puerto Rico

Cuba

Indonesia

Pakistan

Recently, in Europe

Maybe here on Friday

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The Earth warms

The polar shelves

Send sheets of ice

Into the ocean

Water rises

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Storms increase

Maybe we should

Appreciate complaint

From our own

Planet

From the core to the skies

And those of us

All of us

On middle ground

Between the hell and heaven

Spirituality

Counting its own cost

In faith and lives

Of our own globe

In a waiting cosmos

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Consider Broken Swords

(Lord of the Rings)

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Sting was never fixed,

Which would have been bad

For marketing

Though reminding

If not teaching

Us quite rightly

For the story

That the sharpest swords

Don’t have to win the day

And brokenness and heroes

Go together

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The famous sword

The one that sang for Aragorn

Is fixed by Elven smiths

And ready for the final fights

In Rohan

Osgiliath

Minas Tirith

At the Black Gate

At last

These are the heroes whom we know

The king revealed

Wanderer and healer

The sword

That has a greater name

With supernal persona

Magic

In personality,

In character

As it were

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But Sting

Is in a box

In Rivendell

Until it’s brought out

For a hobbit’s use

An unknown being

Anonymity its armor

(which had served the king

for a time)

They would sting another spider

Fill with poison

Topping off the stinging burden

Of an eldritch thing

And promises

Nothing healing

‘Til the mountainside

And going in

To face the fire

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Goodness, there are heroes

There are lives

That serve the world

That sacrifice all pleasures

And promises

To take on one great evil

In front of armies

On one’s own

Inside mountains

At the gate

Of hell on Earth

Of hell on Middle-Earth

For all of us, between

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The small sword

Is character as well

Four heroes, as it were,

Famous

On the surface

Or unfamous,

Inside holes for homes

Then mines and caves

Tunnels without songs

Until at home again

To rest

When things are done

Awaiting passage to

A healing land

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Five heroes

Add two more

Then seven

Then many more

And villainous

And in-between corrupt

Great wars to settle things

The hobbits home at last

We close the books

So are we

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C L Couch

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Photo by Octavian Dan on Unsplash

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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

 

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