2 poems about perspectives (and prompts)
anyone by Tennyson
(reflecting on “Ulysses”)
and if
Ulysses leaves
then
something wrong in Ithaca
something rotten
like the other precedence
to say
maybe his administration by which
his parting
will take the ill with him
and
shall we be ruled
then
by Penelope
who knows how to weave and
keep
the promise
loyal as all promises
are pledges
in
themselves
and so security humanity
in adventures bearing truth
and
at home
bearing love
reliably
secure
the place for that pursuit of happiness
also from the Greeks
to know
and so by wandering and settling
to have
yet
do not settle
say Ulysses and the followers
though
yet there must be a place
of ours
enacts Penelope
and
shall Telemachus serve as medium between
the parents
and the warring notions
of the heart
and will
battle well
the main place
the parts
where battle matters
“Ulysses,” a poem by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, published originally in 1834
the ray
these
things that Bing promotes
the rays that fly through water
by Galapagos
they swim
they point the way they’ve gone
to mark the way
for what should follow
also
to defend
and promise that through the long black
point
that each possesses
and they do all of this
these creatures
and
the species
thousands of miles from here
though there are analogues
closer in
the beings have a mind
but no mind about this
they
do not move aware
of us
as we think we should be observed
and
recognized
rather
they move in life
and life
is what they know
both need and celebration driving
which is all to strive
against
our vanities
a lesson in moving existence
in all
“spotted eagle rays in the Galápagos Islands”
presented by Bing/Microsoft (Tui de Roy/Minden Pictures)
homepage 8/15/25
c l couch
photo by Maksim Shutov on Unsplash
Lisbon Oceanarium, Esplanada Dom Carlos I, Lisbon, Portugal
When the Lord Must Be Angry
And how does a loving God
Do this
Even
Separate us
From itself
(while the wrong people
hear this
heed the warning)
The anger of the Lord
So far as
Saul
In Endor
Is extreme
Saved for despots
Those who try to re-invent the world
Starting
With
Perspective
That is
Having left reality
A golden ball for acquisition
With
So many things upon it
We can move with
Impunity
To own
It isn’t real
None of it is real
And judgment will catch up
Before the end
Placing
Where
Even waiting
To get better might no longer be
Allowed
(I do not know
I’m not an agent
of
afterlife-
contracting)
As the surrender
Of humanity
Is understood
Here
And beyond the gates
With too much evidence
To miss
While
The rest leave
Dictatorship alone
In gross choices
We eschew
For the sake
(we must)
Of
Our own souls
So that
What is left
In the despotic head
(new
storied clothes over
the rest)
Is only at
Last
A devilish kind of loneliness
With a push
From the ghosts of futures
Into a dark and emptied place
Filled
Only with
The company
By the regretting
Perfect magistrate
Of
Condemnation
C L Couch
Photo by Dmitry Bukhantsov on Unsplash
Squatter’s Right
Sometimes
I am tired
Of being inside me
And I wish
I could be inside
Someone else
Which is a wish
I guess
In fact
To be
Someone else
Someone with fewer troubles
Or another set
At least
For interest
And maybe with resources
Inner and outer
Better to deal
From
Both places
Someone who’s with others
More
Who doesn’t have a solitary
Occupation
At least
Not so much
Who’s maybe traveled some
Beyond the Thoreauvian way
Who’s maybe
Been to Spain
Or the Bahamas
Maybe
To Ireland
I don’t know
And there are continents
Besides
Someone
Who’s much more comfortable
With the world
Than I’ve ever been
Who’s
Comfortable with clothes
And cars
And such
Who doesn’t mind technology
And doesn’t question everything
And there it is
The rub
The prick
The thing that brings up conscience
With the issue of
Allowance
Shucks
Back to where I am
Go through the eyeholes
Back inside
Deal with whatever
Through whatever senses
For
I cannot
Take the place of another
(theirs is due)
And I have to ask into
Everything I’ve listed
For a better life
And at what cost
Than what
I’ve had
Sigh
And there we are
And I am here
C L Couch
Photo by Alex Perez on Unsplash
Lemur Looking
Who are you
I am a king
Maybe I’m a girl
But I’m a king
What is a zoo
Don’t look at me
I’ll decide
Who’s worthy
C L Couch
a flash response from Melissa Lemay’s prompt, https://melissalemay.wordpress.com/2024/06/03/melissas-fandango-flash-fiction-challenge-271/
I first read Grace's response at https://graceofthesun.com/playful-climb/
Photo by Stephen Hickman on Unsplash
(tag) #FFFC
(x = space)
x
x
Silent War
x
Most people
Can’t see beyond
Their own perspective
And why should they
We were made
Impulsively to carry
One
Those who can see
Beyond one’s own way
Become the diplomats
Negotiating
Everyone’s self-interest
x
Every now and then
We all do better
It happened famously
At Christmastime
During the
Great War
When foes came together
They had stopped firing
To take up games instead
Drink together
Have photos taken
Then afterward,
Resumed the awful,
Blooded action
x
For a time,
Everyone saw more
They saw each other
The different colors didn’t matter
They saw across
The horrible divide
Saw the real fundamentals
For a while,
Which are few
Human to human
x
We can get it
We can have it
We can stop the war
Better than the appointed
Though they can
They can get it, too
x
Which goes for the small wars, too
Maybe we can
Instinct over impulse
Will
Look over the trench
Of a mile or inches
Take on
Protect
The other’s way
x
C L Couch
x
x
‘Pea Soup or Cocoa’, Longueval, France, World War I, Dec 1916. Taken in December, 1916, just after the brutal Somme Offensive (1 July – 18 Novemember) in the wooded area north of the Somme River. The mud of the ruined terrain covers the men and the small buffet station. A sense of humour is present in the cynical joke ‘Pea Soup or Cocoa’ – a dry comment on the quality of the limited food and drink available to troops at the frontline. Soldiers wrote with detail on food and drink conditions on the front.
Photo by Museums Victoria on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Shots Fired
x
Shooting in Indianapolis
Many killed
Then the shooter
Suicides,
Which might have been the plan
Or nascent horror
In reaction
That what has been done
And how it really looks
And sounds
And smells
All senses bely everything,
The shooter’s truth
x
I know people there
So do you
Six degrees
Less
Five for being
Human
x
Now there’s talk
About the weather
As if there were
No separation
x
We can graft it all together—
Watch, we’re doing it
x
I don’t want
To know, either
It’s gross, and I’m trying
To deal in closer things
x
But there it is
We do living color well
In irony of tones
x
The coffee’s late
The toast is early
I’m not cycling well with the news
And please
Sell windows at another time
x
In Europe,
I understand
They used to add them up
The advertisements
To show them at one time
A day
And give awards for them
That everyone would follow
In gratitude, no doubt,
For separation
x
That we can do
Ecclesiastes says so
x
C L Couch
x
x
https://www.cnn.com/2021/04/16/us/mass-shootings-45-one-month/index.html
x
Photo by Zinko Hein on Unsplash
x
Pity the Party
Wow, pain is such a disconnect
Like depression
That I also take a pill for
What is there to care for?
What do I care about?
Who cares for me?
I have accoutrements
A blanket ‘round my shoulders
While I’m cold
Toast (the start of a loaf)
Some grapes (the last of them)
I gave up coffee and caffeine
As if it were my own form of Lent
Though I can’t recall
A decision for
The sake of my soul
Pills have side effects
These press down, too
I am surrounded
The best thing that I have
Are movies
But I’d rather be the artisan
Than the spectator
So sit up to write
A little more
I’d rather make
Than borrow off
Another’s making
I mean, there’s allusion
Citation when it’s proper
Or otherwise might render
A source beyond reach
If not belief
Or to leave it all, hoping for
Belief in the beholder
Well, some system
Is protesting
The strain of illness
Or the medication
Most of this I doubt I’ll leave
Though there might be something
I can’t see or hear
That someone else
Much better at beholding will
Do I pray?
I do and hope for more
But I haven’t a perspective
The thermostat is broken
Someone else must regulate
What happens next,
Which is what I think
The praying’s for
C L Couch
Image by ImageParty from Pixabay
I Touched the Moon Rock, Too
Memory is funny
And I know you know that
I saw the Hope Diamond
It was small
Though small is relative to an elephant
Also the Mona Lisa
Small from its perspective, too
I saw Mount Rushmore from a distance
It was better in the movies
I’ve seen two oceans of the seven
Should there be seven seas
(and oceans do the counting)
I’ve visited, how many now,
Maybe four of the Great Lakes
Though two might been at a meeting
Place—and I don’t have to tell you
(do I)
That they are great
One day when I was in Washington, D.C., again
I saw the huge flag
And it is enormous
The one with the upside-down V sewn on
Fear of victory?
The shape of something torn that happened?
And there it was, a moon rock
I swear I got to touch it
And all this comes to mind
Because I just heard Mister Wildman
Say it was so
C L Couch
note(s)
it turns out I’m sending up the Smithsonian Museums, Mysteries at the Museum, and big things elsewhere in the USA
Lunar Olivine Basalt 15555 sample collected from the moon by the Apollo 15 mission, at station 9A on the rim of Hadley Rille. It was formed around 3.3 billion years ago. On display in the National Museum of Natural History.
Olivine basalt collected by the crew of Apollo 15.
(image via) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moon_rock
clcouch123 
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