a series of haiku in which nature is partnered with religion
devotion has it
we should love the Earth as God
has made all wondrous
breathing in and out
some days it’s hard for nature
thick by pollution
white and pink blossoms
Japan gives us cherry trees
to bloom in D.C.
shall the Earth give back
opens not what we deserve
receiving seasons
all the problems here
co-op of virtue and fall
first to third chapters
praying goes to God
not thought but by intention
doubt also received
responding to Claudius in Hamlet at 3.3.97-98
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photo by Yan Liu on Unsplash
cats are black watch out
we do get superstitious
Friday by number
it’s a pastel day
brushed colors as if painted
by the art-maker
it’s not that haiku are easier except physically to type; while sometimes impulsive, the content often takes as long if not longer than to set down more; I have a friend who says that of Mark, the gospel thought written first because it’s short; my friend (with a related PhD) realizes, as I understand from teaching composition, that writing down is harder than writing out
not that I command haiku (goodness, no); I simply try and learn and try
I’m still struggling for breath—yes, the process for inspiration, I suppose—but I mean literally; someday I’ll be living somewhere else with clearer air to get back some health, while the ongoing issues are the main ones that have to be ongoing (heart disease and such)
I hope each of you is well
thanks for your concerns expressed—and thanks to all of you always
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photo by Anton Ponomarenko on Unsplash
cat in London home
2 poems with one poem an expression of thanks then the other a preachy story
given means
someone brought me
food
and others cleared my car
and I imagine that I’ll
lose the space
as soon as I go somewhere
but
I’m thankful
I can eat
and I can move away
when
needed or desired
in the parable
these helpers would be sheep
though busy sheep
helpful
and loving
the givers have the designation
sheep
or goat
and I wonder what
the receivers
such as I might be
maybe
lambs
or kids
Matthew 25:31-46
the one arrives for whom there has been waiting
a story with a king
who dispenses justice
a righteous king
who
has the power with discretion
and the role
given
to play
and shall people be judged
by this wonder who could
be
man or woman
or those gender parts
in God
and so the king
metes
as if the word were ready for this one
alone and
throughout
time
and a throne is
set
the the judgment happens simply
you were me and in
need
and these came to help you
though they needn’t
have known you and you had comfort
even
more life to give
and for the metaphor
I call the helpers
sheep as I
frankly
am the shepherd
and sorry for goats
to call the others goats
and
I guess goats are famous for consuming
and
these goats to judge as people
keeping all
if by degree and giving nothing
not
what would have been easier to share
let alone what might have
been harder
to share
and I must welcome sheep
then
outcast the goats
not
for species judgment
except for those of you
people
whom I made
to whom I gave
but chose
not
to give back or out
toward loving benefit of others
so I judge
and so it is as it was
set
so long ago just after Eden
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same verses
photo by Jay Gomez on Unsplash
2 haiku for Minnesota
what is it we need
the warmth of peace most of all
Minnesota iced
know there’s loss of life
anger with the fear in that
to pray and protest
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photo by Blake Harbison on Unsplash
Lake Superior Lighthouse
Minnesota, United States
names
Our Lady has a day
Juan Diego anglo named
she gave him roses
(12 December, Our Lady of Guadalupe)
I am Christopher
bearer of Christ and walking
hundred-acre woods
your name is your name
assigned you for a reason
there is a story
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(a series, I suppose, though I think each poem stands on its own)
there are good stories [a line while drafting that I thought I’d let stay on the page]
photo by Aida Batres on Unsplash
two poems for Thanksgiving narratology
[narratology = dealing in story (sorry)]
this Thanksgiving
(mutuality)
say
find something to be thankful for
still here
a body
with a spirit inside
a mind
if the high point of that arc
was a long time ago
and everything’s been gradual
since
then
the bandage from last blood test
fell off
somewhere
hopefully not
to create a gross moment for someone
for me
the continuation of a series
gross
if bloody
that began with the first heart attack
or with
fall off the sofa when I was
four or so
and
there was a pool on the hardwood floor
that I could see
this is the past
highlights
or
lowlights
and how do you remember things
your own time
with time
nature
others
your own inventions on your own
and when dealing in
perception based on how others
treated you
that part of the play
when
Eliza says she is a duchess
because Pickering treats him
that way
and
there is
how we treat ourselves
now add the theme of thanks
for the day
Pygmalion/My Fair Lady (cited)
starspeak
and where is God in this
and sad
if not tragic
to
have to ask
maybe it’s because there are no easy
answers on the planet
except the gift
of
itself
in the cosmos
either
except to look with whatever combination
of our senses
to wonder
to measure
too
if there are no numbers for the wonder
we say
in certain liturgies
that
a star is coming
though they’re not supposed to be
loosed from their places
there’s that
wonder
the exercise to call it something else
by which it’s easier
or
to admit there is no knowing
and so let it unbound
unidentify its place
except it flies
and
also famously arrives
with a doctrinal purpose
but that we also leave it
simply as
astounding
also passage in an
extraordinary
narrative
that might beg belief
while
not insisting on its truth
on
what it represents
like the fictive guess
in “The Sentinel”
in which
Arthur Clarke invents a dying star
with
sentient civilization ‘round it
its last explosion
seen over the skies by
magi
of western Asia
and we could write our stories
too
as well as listen to what’s
set
and shared each season though off-season
makes your guesses
takes your chances
give
other versions a chance
allow imagination
serving
as an ironic stretching as a building-up
of credibility
“The Sentinel” is a short story by Arthur C. Clarke. The story is said to be the inspiration for his and Stanley Kubrick’s 2001. (Clarke having written that novel for and from the film.)
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Happy Thanksgiving! which should be a day of thanks for all, everywhere—or of hope for such with those in unthanking situations. (Sorry, need to bring up both.)
four more-or-less October poems (three poems narrative while one verse plaintive)
who takes the autumn time
fall
and I’m not ready
too cold too
fast
so
where were the colors
coming over weeks
as hot moved to cool
then to cold only at night
for
a while
yet
look at me
hear me
complaining
while
it was in the eighties well into
October with random
reason
or Earth turning
for all the heat returning
but frankly
the trees look like veterans
of the wasted early
season
green leaves with withered edges
an attempt at red now brown
meaning
late fall by climate change
and should we peak in wizened fall
from trees worn out by
normal waiting
for
the riotous return
and
it isn’t look
of course
alone
but touch the cooler wind
to smell the gradual passing
to
think on the mortality
but now breaking cycles
of the planetary model rest
to sleep under
into blade risings
with
spring
then who took the time of fall
MidAtlantic
everywhere and that would mean
south
what should be the verdant
growing time
ambassadorial
the orange cat
who
came to say hello then
walk right
in
to look for corners good for
rubbing faces
with new levels
chair
and stool
and bed
on which to leap
as if after
to plant a catly explorer’s
flag
to chirp and then
to cry a
little
signaling the visit done
and for us to go upstairs
to find
the unlocked door through
which
this pumpkin neighbor
had escaped and has come down
to call
a sibling face behind the door
of timider variety
now
waiting for the rascal-story
men’s Bible study
thought
I’d give a try
there were three plus
the proviso that
where
two or more are gathered
one
man I knew
the other not so much
but
we went on together through
the video
and readings
with
discussions on the way
and then
requests for prayer
and I asked for
my niece
and abashedly then
for
myself
and
by the way
we had gelato at the start
while
I heard tales of Italy
from two so much more traveled
than myself
so
I could learn
because they’re nothing like
well
like being there
to insurance companies
thanks
to your insurance
I’m suffering
treatments have been identified
by experts
you won’t let me have
the help
I know I’m just one person
whose numbers move through your
machine
so easy to ignore
while you gear your promotions
through yourselves
over my health
but
goodness
I wish I could feel better
from the summer’s infections
it being fall
now
and
you know
I could feel improved
but
you won’t let me
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photo by Mauro Lima on Unsplash
Saturday haiku
(senses applied to what’s outside; maybe each verse stands alone; maybe they all have to go together)
the skitterers wait
leaves falling then branches cleared
skittering delight
what is there to hear
surprised or unsurprised sound
to like or endure
out front I smell town
cars and bricks and street work there
out back trees and leaves
unconvincing taste
air that’s all mixed together
good and bad to breathe
touching the splinters
old drying frame of window
trees too far away
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photo by LR HULTS on Unsplash
two poems about me, all of us
a story for me
(and you)
let’s
see what I recall
she asked me
do you know what your name
means
and
I said
yes
it means cross-bearer
to which she then asked
do you
know the story
and I didn’t
there was a wide river
and a man who
for a living
carried people to the other side
one day then
a child
came to the man
the child requesting
to
be carried across the water
and
so he took the child on his shoulders
and proceeded
and as they moved
it seemed
the child got heavier to bear
and then
heavier
the current of the river and the distance
made
everything more difficult
though it was the weight of the child
that mattered
most
so that the man
said to the child
I feel as if
I’m carrying the weight of the world
to which the child replied
you are
and that’s the story of the saint
named Christopher
and
I’ve kept that story from
my teacher
when in school and to
this day
so
I know there’s much to write about
about
earthquake and war
fire
flood and strikes
and such
and not
to dismiss
anything in the world with which I often
feel
uncomfortable
and yet
must love so much
but
sometimes it is me
as it is you
and we are one by one
as well
as
together
and each one matters
as
togetherness matters
and sometimes
you know
there is the day and only one soul
then
another
and what happens from inside to
the outside
through one and then another
to
the world
eventually
is what we have
one
two
together
more
the world
forever
c(hristopher) l couch
photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash
“long exposure image of a river flowing in the forest”
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