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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

Too-Young Good-Bye

Too-Young Good-Bye

(youth, adults—the Humboldt team and friends)

 

In Canada

In Nipawin,

Youth and hockey

Care and safety

And something else transpires

Coaches and sponsors

Everyone does a job

And something else transpires

A bus and a truck tall and wide collide

And that’s it

There it is

An explosion perhaps not

In fiery effect

But of life regardless

And too terribly

I’ve been in vehicle crashes

So are many others

A truck crashed once into my car

I was sprayed with glass

And there was no question

The family station wagon would

Be replaced

People have been hurt in wrecks

This is what I know

Those who are close to this

Know so much more

And horrible

There are

Those who left

Pulled mortally from here,

The here and now we

Have

Those who remain

What shall be done

 

Too many must heal,

And we must return

To take each one gone

A gift

Of flesh and soul

And in quiet, be thankful he

Was with us

For a time—then

For each one still in sight,

Perception

 

All-gendered victims now

All ages then and since

All places

All relations

Thoughts and prayers are tired

Though we will inhale and

Pray for real, again

For faith however tried

And for answers that like deer

Are nimble and grace-filled

 

Look for authenticity

In choices of

Our love

Good-bye too soon

 

Each one

Not from eternal reach,

But the for hours we must count

‘Til heaven says all counting’s gone

Together

In a redemptive now

Always beginning

 

C L Couch

 

 

image above from Pinterest

image below from http://www.tripmondo.com/canada/saskatchewan/nipawin/

Nipawin deer

 

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Fine Day

Fine Day

 

After many tries, I’ve found

A cup that right for soup

Shiny with a handle the right size for

The skin between my knuckles

Black, not so heavy, portable

Hot from the microwave

A Prufrock thing, perhaps

I handle the part thing in my hair

But not having so much of one

And I’ve dared to eat the peach,

Preferring clementines

Nothing much

Which is the point

We meet the God of the universe

Through an open orange pit

And stirring a galaxy in coffee

I think Julian might approve

 

C L Couch

 

 

https://pxhere.com/fr/photo/165696

clementines

 

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The Day After

The Day After

(Holy Saturday 2018)

 

The Saturday before

And nothing’s going on

 

Is there a signal yet

A code for believers

Not the fish, even though

Remembrance of the feast

Upon the hillside

Could be recalled

 

But the last letters of acrostic

Faithlessly, have not been found

 

In disillusion

Fear of capture

Greater fear of nothingness

 

All that’s left is, what,

Eat something, find a place to

Stop

As darkness of the human heart

Enfolds

 

And doubt in anything that’s good

Or lasts

Washes like acid

Over once-fast believing

 

C L Couch

 

2

Deconstruction

Deconstruction

 

The sky cries into

Chiseled ground

Wedged open by sin

Up on the hill

The day is night

And love is hate

All things turned over

As a shovel upends soil

To dig a grave

 

C L Couch

 

 

crosses Montana

https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/194288171402151308/

Jill Lesoing saved to Meet Me In Montana…

 

3

The Message

The Message

 

Strong in words

Is that enough

Strong, if that, but why

There should be virtue

Antique word for an

Old-fashioned notion

Authenticity, what

Young people often

Teach us

A reason would be good

Thought sometimes celebration

Is enough

Sometimes I reach out to

Animals, even though,

You know, allergic

If they like me it must be

Without words

The word is in the touch

The hand that follows contours

And constitutes a message

The quiet voice

And listening, always listening

And so we might get along

The word is in reality

A different language

 

We have words

And always should be

Better with them

Listening

Returning what we’ve heard

Offering something new

Or firming up the

Better part of what

Know is old

And good because it lasted

There is love in

This

There is strength

In the word

 

C L Couch

 

3

Older Love

Older Love

 

It is in the first Christian hymn

Love begotten

As in created

Dropped like ritual paint upon

An unmarked, earthy plank

Moved around in riotous,

Primal aesthetic

Made for pleasure in the universe

Because God knows

It’s not enough minimally

To exist

 

In the pushing of all things

There must be meaning

Not in gnostic sentences

Trying to spell secrets in the skies

But something all of us can have

Without exotic training

Or supernal

Scrying

 

Pointers at best

But knowing there’s a reason

Without the heart

Without first favor

Placed over everything that’s made

Or co-made

Well, that pointing will not

Get us there for being

Easily if not covetously

Sideswiped on the way by

Desires and the vicissitudes of

Living without spirit

Rising from the dwelling of the soul in

Each one

 

We were built, singly and together

One by one and all

We can perceive a universe

And with earnestness take hold

Who we are

Of anything that’s good and sound and loving

You and me embrace

All things ordinarily divine

 

C L Couch

 

 

big world small sketch

https://www.wikihow.com/Capture-a-Big-World-in-Small-Sketches

 

2

Autumning

Autumning

 

On a Sunday night,

we walked some streets in Cambridge.

It was fall.  The streets were wet; the

air was chilled.

We actually found a small place

that served chowder.  It was cheap,

and it was good.  And I

imagined a hundred places like it in

the town.  I think I

was right.

That was my first and so far last trip there,

though she came once to me.  But

at the time, we were set at odds against

each other; there was no way

we could get it right.

 

C L Couch

 

 

cambridge mass

Bicycles in the Rain

Mark Hornbuckle

https://www.cambridgema.gov/traffic/Permits/residentparkingpermit/residentpermitphotocontest/2015residentparkingpermitphotocontestalbum

 

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Really Far Away

Really Far Away

 

Brown leaves follow green

Then into the ground they go

It’s a happy process, really

And it should be

I know we razor the land

And let our refuse burn into the air

Or breathe it into land and sea

We’re ruining things, really

Have you been to the plastic island

In the Pacific

It’s really gross and really there

It’s not made up

China builds islands in the sea

And claims the territory and

The ocean ‘round

We all built the isle of trash

And no one claims anything about it

Really far away

Unless you’re there

Wait, there’s one in the Atlantic, now

Really

 

C L Couch

 

garbage island

https://rustygarnersmith.wordpress.com/tag/great-pacific-garbage-patch/

 

 

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