a little chappy-book of poems
Anyday Fog
Fog
Fog today
A Dickensian lesson
(get started
on Bleak House)
To know
That like the existence
And the movement of the fog
There is connection
Between all of us
Regardless of economy
Or privilege
Or barriers
Presumed
That as far as the single race goes on
Do not stand
Aloof
We are connected
That is the way of things
Do not forget
But relish in it
The reality
And all the possibilities
Together
Or stay apart
Behind our barriers
So-called
To let the fog move
Inimically
Exuding fear and guilt
As we forbid ourselves from
Seeing
(without eyes)
And acknowledging each other
The fog connection
Irony
For there it is
Well
Then let
The better lesson of
The real thing
To a greater thing
Take over
All our humanhood
That should lower unnecessary things
In the way
Then let in
The light
(more than light)
Too Easy
Blindness
Blindness chosen
Not the sense
But the lifestyle
Even
A cause
That in the dark
We shall strike
And have our way
Forgetting
(among other things)
The anthologized
“Dover Beach” that
First-year students
Are foisted
To read
With the “ignorant armies”
In the night
That clash
Who wins
Who loses
No one knows
Except that blows are struck
And there is wounding
And humanity destroyed
By degree
Those who are blind
For real
Know the sacrifice
And the ridiculousness
In selecting darkness as
The quality
For sight
And shall we choose
To be ignorant of each other
Shall we fight
From distances too great
To know much beyond
The switch
Or the button
We could draw near each other
Rather
Withholding our destroying
Part
To leave the great part
Of curiosity
And even peace
Let go
Learn who is my neighbor
On the planet
How might the Earth do better
If we re-trained ourselves
For nature
The greater challenge
To
Like military
Pull back the extremes
To repair
Then prepare
For what’s next
To know
Who is next door
Not to pry
Or lord
Or anything overlording
Or pervasive
To learn each other
As we are
Even the agendas
Learning how to speak
To listen more
And to understand
(lessons in language
might be
the first thing)
Allowing curiosity
To be positive regard
Respect
The better agenda
Knowing which virtues to use
To influence
And which to use to
Be changed by
As we grow
In and with
Those we have relegated to
The other
As an objective distinction
(no such thing)
To render targets
Rather
Than people
Simply put
Do not destroy the world
That’s rather stupid
But put down the guns
(the buttons and the switches)
Find food
And drink
And other fixing things
With which
To approach
Nourish
And give the world
What is the real
Fighting chance
Family Game Night
(we can do it)
No one wins
No one loses
Leave that to
Real games
And remember to embrace
Congratulate
Game-winners
While in the world
We do better
With nothing like a game
At stake
But how we live
Together
Make enough
The base for everyone
Then all we reach for
After that
In other words
Feed everyone
Because
We can do it
(Rosie
says
we can)
Provide everyone
With something safe
To drink
Shelter and the opportunity
For education
Of ourselves
And the world
The unpeated past
The glories in the present
(let science say
amen)
Maybe
Remembering
The God who made
Everything
Is waiting
Withholding Armageddon
‘Til there’s faith
In the outcome
For those who choose
To care
And believe
In the world
And the living
Selves
And neighbors
It’s simply
Really
Embrace good
Eschew evil
Learning the two
More how to build
Rather than
Destroy
It’s easy
Each can prosper
After all are well
In fact
Prosperity
Will grow
While all are fed
And drinked
Have shelter
And the means
For education
Will the problems end
No way
But we’ll have a go
With advancements and
With possibilities
Which is
The world growing
Which is how it was
And how
It should be
By us
Eden
With the walls let down
The best Eden we can make
Yes
For billions
Living well
And each other
Has a chance
To go from there
To growth
To gold
Whatever might seem good
Without extremes
Of anarchy or monarchy
Rule one by one
And by assembly
Which is how
The world’s growing
(at its best)
Anyway
Grow on
Absent Lion
(not that there’s climate change)
Well
Winter’s MidAtlantic
Ended
Seventy
In western parts
So where’s
The lion
Seems not
To have arrived
There’s always
Aslan
For always good
A sign
Of faithfulness
And power
In faithfulness
There are other lions
Some as
Metaphors
Others in fact
Don’t go
To meet upfront
The real ones
For their strength
Is in
Predation
It’s the qualities
And made-up stuff
That make
The lion
Useful
(leave the real ones
out there)
As we can make
The lamb
Render its own qualities
For our own good
And at least
In these parts
Earlier
In March
What’s Blue Is Blue
Maybe this is all
I can do
For now
Write against the blue
Until
The retinas
And other parts can’t take it
Then leave
The machine alone
And even
Wonder
How we do this
All
The time
Go see
The eye doctor
Maybe she
Will know
What is healthy
What is useful
What is
Disciplined
For health and
Productivity
To ease the headaches
And the
Stress
Maybe from blues
Though maybe
I need to play the blues
C L Couch
Photo by Vestfoldmuseene on Unsplash
2 poems kind of about brokenness (sorry)
When the Circle’s Not Unbroken
The Lord
Invites us
To the circle
Or the square
Or something oblong
Maybe
Rhomboid
To something
Maybe broken
For design
Or due to
Some experience
That seems
To break up everything
Fear
And anger
Breaking out
Without
The lines
To keep it in
To keep what might be loved
Therein
Though love remains
In the fragments
The Lord
Cares for us in these
And if the situation
Backs in
From extreme
The parts
Maybe come together
In a new shape
If partial
While we gesture
Talk
And work on fixing
For a while
Call it prayer
Call it Bible study
Call it therapy
Or medication
Every means
That helps
In measured
Dosage
And discretion
‘Til something like
Our circle
Even as
Something else
Shall come together
Maybe with a new
Amen
March on Two Left Feet
(or right)
The fifth already
Seems like
March is
The right name
The lion hasn’t really
Come
Though are there hints
Of lambs
Is a fair question
It’s in-between
A kind of academic
Purgatory
While the sky
And Earth
Decide
To fix the things
From winter
Into spring
We hope
The flowers undeceived
The planting happen
In its own
Good timing
That might have to change
Or not
Should good-guessing be required
By planters
Of all kinds
Who typically
Are breathing through
Northeastern cold
While waiting
For green seasons
To begin
C L Couch
Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash
2 poems about the ending, the beginning
Panoply
I was thinking
Of the stars
In the Chronicles of Narnia
The stars
Who are people
Who had arrived here
Long ago
And the people-stars
Who will descend
In the last
Hours
A star
A sun
With a personality
Like the face
By Georges Méliès
For the moon
Except
The stars-as-people
Won’t have spaceships
In their left eyes
I guess
We have anthropomorphized
Everything that’s
Up there
And to place them up
When they
Are all around
A stellar populace
And are the comets missiles
Taking centuries to land
Because a century
To stars
Is an age of dinosaurs
On Earth
A stellar war
An interstellar war
With weapons
So slow
And more rarely hitting targets
As the universe has settled
That the gods of war
Must be red
In their frustration
For the cosmos
Clearly gives it up
No interest
In who wins
The interest is in
Sentience now
Like theirs
Worlds have it
And the possibilities
As life is
Sent around
First as microbes
Then support for all the lifeforms
As they grow
A day
An age
Inhabit all the Earth
As each Earth was made
Earthstruck
Early
Sun is prepping
Not appearing
Yet
Moon is tired
From its performing
Ready to set
To rest for a while
The stars in their courses
Seem confident
I think they will stay there
For a while
An age or more
Perhaps
An eon
If that’s longer
Then to fall
One by one
Onto the Earth
Of an apocalypse
Or so our own myth
Goes
And does the Earth expand
To catch the stars
Or will the stars
Actually send meteors
As
Representatives
Ahead of
Armageddon
How real is it all
All the blood
From the sky
And on the planet
Maybe
All of it shall happen
As depicted
And shall the saved
Be gone by then
Perhaps
Perhaps
Some of us must wait
Through tribulation
To send
The message
While there’s time
Even through the
Revelation horrors
Hurry up
Believe
More evidence around you
And the world is breaking up
Though there’s still time
Still pushing your agendas
Give them up
It’s over
But something new
And wonderful
Is coming
You shouldn’t want
To miss it
C L Couch
Ramandu (“star at rest”) and the daughter of Ramandu (no name given for her, though in the stories she is active) from The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis
Photo by Alex Shuper on Unsplash
(2 poems for the weekend)
Man’s Search for Meaning
nah
I simply cannot
come up with
what
to say
it’s Friday
named for Freya
I believe
to go with
Thor
from yesterday
I hope
you have
a pleasant weekend
fecund
(Freya would go
for this)
and with delight
without the mischief
Loki would rather
sponsor
enjoy the days
and look forward
to more
which is how
I think
we have to live
as we can
today
with an on-the-side assurance
of tomorrow
like at a restaurant
asking for
assurance on the side
you know
how figures
and metaphors
must go
as we need them for our work
our rhetoric
discourse
and persuasion
speak to
the birth of a nation
the death of gin
(for a time)
the resurrection
of our booze
(after)
say we are
a patchwork
I remember
melting pot
from school
though don’t hear it
so much
in these
so-called
grownup days
so it’s the weekend
two days to play
for those
who may
yes
chores
too
we know
running errands
and for some
there’s running
too
if you want to think
there could be time to think
though let play
and rest
be timely
too
as they are vital
literally serving life
in
all
Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl
Golde and Tevye
only a little more prosperous
so I could buy the small appliance
when I see it
or trade with less anxiety
for a car
or buy clothes to wear
for comfort more than look
though comfort
requires cost
as well
anything else
well
a less hovel-like place to live
with enough space
to keep me
without doubt
un-claustrophobic
paying for a class
now and then
so I might get better at this
and other things
and there’s fresh food for cooking
like a marketplace experience
most days
though now I’m getting crazy
over riches
I am sure
but
there it is
the kinds of things I want
or want to have
within reach
C L Couch
Photo by NASA Hubble Space Telescope on Unsplash
a wing and a prayer
(2 poems)
marathon magic movies
I wish I were a wizard
a good one
as in
good at it
I could change the things
that frustrate me
and are
only things
the things that
do not fit
the things with
parts
that do not work
so well
as they did
once
or I could make
new things
out of unused molecules
of things
that broke
and-or I gave up on
a while ago
a wizard
for convenience
though
maybe I’d have to
pick my sides
as well
though it seems
that wizards often
stood between them all
to force and even host
negotiation
then
once all was done
return
like Cincinnatus to the farm
rather to the cave
to rest
and learn some more
of magic in the world
and the world
itself
perhaps
for which
the magic serves
obviously spiritual
do I want to say
something
obviously spiritual
always
thought it always seems
to come with
something secular
as well
and that’s because
I am here
while you are there
(and here)
and your host moves
in between
what do you say
what does love say
why can’t I
serve these all
the time
doubtlessly
with only a little more
than what I have
and what I am
and this
prevaricates
this elongated pause
while at the edge of things
that wait
even indifferently
for my
participation
the world waits
in emptiness
and need
and with too much of it
held hostage by too few
behind the gates
of hell
that we are told
cannot prevail
against
our own rock
our body in the faith
that set on it
these gates
even with those
who push from the inside
cannot
shall not
stand
wow
all this from me
and those like me
have faith
and share in faith
to love actively
and maybe not much more
which is
Herculean
beyond classic labors
that shall
tell a new story
a second set
of revelations
as it were
so I believe
and sit with those
who believe
then we shall stand
and nothing bad
what has chosen to be evil
shall prevail
but at the last shall hide
and have its final
bastions
thrown apart
by faith
togetherness
and love
which sounds simplistic
to be simple
but there it is
like Jesus
or another Lord
accessible
by anyone
no secrets
or secret knowledge
simply
believe
together
and together
love
and though it’s not
the most important thing
well
to win
c l couch
photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash
Steel Brass Plastic Agenda, Never the Last Word
(2 poems)
Steel Brass Plastic Agenda
There was an argument
In Kansas City
And evidently
Lots of guns
At the scene
So who wants to be powerful
Who wants to be famous
First
Who is more superior
By bullets
An argument
Is not enough
Except perhaps
For pretense
I am ready
I have the final volume
With my gun
Keep talking
Keep rising
I’ll have you
With the last word
My own
Explosion
To settle everything
Then come and get me
You should
Know me now
Never the Last Word
This is no last word
But taking a breath
To breathe
Without the news
And all things
That press on me
On us
I can’t do this without you
And don’t want
To
But let’s all take time
To breathe
And we can drink
And talk
Besides
We could sit
At table
In that made-up
Lakeside café
I keep making up
Adding details
For our ease
And for reflection
On reflection
Of the water
And we could leave
Better than before
Join me
In breathing
If you will
In sipping
Also nibbling something
For small pleasure
Great pleasure
In the interacting
Relief in
Trying to be ourselves
A little more
Each time
We meet
You send me something
And I send you things
While the café waits
And other good
Imagined things
In between
The substance of ourselves
And what we choose
In greater and more open
Health
(let’s try)
To share
C L Couch
Photo by Fern M. Lomibao on Unsplash
a few things I’d rather have written about today (and then heard further about the shooting)
Tributaries
Today is
Mom’s birthday
She’s been gone
Since ‘83
Gee
Now fifty years ago
Come 13 June
There is gravestone
With a flower
Though we had planned
A rabbit
And they go it
Wrong
So many things went wrong
Back then
And not to say
Things are so smooth now
There’s legacy
Though certainly
We’re on our own
And up to us
And on us
All our choices
By life
She lived too brief a life
I had wishes
For gifts and such
Hopes for relating
Never realized
Dreams
Dissolved
Everything went numb
And dark
For a while
And some of that remains
Even fifty years
Later
When it’s late
In the time
Of all of us
The children
While it’s also blessed early
For the new ones
To carry on
Inside generations
One by one
And all together
One, two, three, four
Black, white, green, red
One by one
And all together
Now
The Today Show
Today
Is a better day
Because I washed something
You don’t know what it means
If you’re depressed
And then
Improve one thing
One small thing
Unless
You are depressed
And maybe this works for you
As well
I hope so
Not to scrub
Obsessively
Toward bleeding in
(bleeding out
or in)
Somewhere
I mean washing
Almost without thought
Cleaning it
For safer
More hygienic use
Again
So ordinary
Now so extraordinary
Realized
And realized
There’s
Some sort of spiritual
Match in this
The extraordinary
In the ordinary
I can’t remember
Is it us
Made by God
This way
To live that way
Is it our purpose
Or the purpose of the universe
Made of small things
That become huge
In planet-making
In eruptions
Upon every rounded surface
At some time
I don’t know
Somehow the small is large
While remaining small
And I cleaned
Something small
And it has largened
My awareness
Just enough
To let in something better
And I could give it
A name
But for now
Will simply live with it
Let it live with me
(please let it live with me
a plea)
Nameless
And wondrous
For a while
lento
the ashes are gone
most likely
(we’re supposed
to let them fall off
naturally)
sometimes the skin
is broken
where they were
upon our foreheads
anyway
we’re in Lent now
the long season
named for the lengthening
of days
it is the Italian word
that also comes to mind
lento
meaning slow
play the music here
with ease
taking your time
while attending to
the baton
ahead of everything
the instruments
and guiding
interpretation
the Buddhists say
go slowly
they’re on to something
especially
for these days
in which the days grow
gradually longer
in assurance of spring
the green season
on its way
and we hope it will arrive
with nutrients enough
in soil
and rain enough
from above
and our good choices what
to plant
so that at long last
there might be abundance
though we’ll need the right amounts
of rain and sun
from above
a spiritual collaboration
we might believe
and hope for
even plan for
in these lengthening
of days
we make time now
to file away
what we know
and don’t know yet
eat less now
think more
lay a new foundation
for prayer
more solid convictions
and intentions
on which the frenzy
soon enough
will build
time now
maybe for dreams as well
to have them
talk about them
with the Lord
and with each other
on the plane of Earth
C L Couch
Photo by Praveen kumar Mathivanan on Unsplash
here is a chapbooklet, as it were (and to have made up the word), a small series of poems it won’t take long to read or, please and naturally, read how much however, whenever
From Psalm 51
It’s past the sabbath time
And the spirit
Of the Lord
Stays with us
Create in me a clean heart
O God
And renew a right spirit
Within me
My favorite psalm
And it’s a good one
Anyway
Because there is a promise
It can happen
Like the washed sins
Becoming like the snow
Though I like
The sense of plea
In this one
We reach out
To God
Invoke God
And ask for God’s involvement
We may ask for this
Each time we read
And think on it
(words with thoughts, Claudius)
Though
The Lord might say
I’ve done it
Clean heart
Right spirit
All is well
Be at peace
And the Lord
Will listen to our plea
All our pleas
Time and again
As much as need
To send over to
The perfect listening
Of the Lord
God Hears Us
Should I shout to God
Or splutter words
Between sobs
Or ask
While sitting on a chair
Before a meeting
Or whisper
God hears me
Every time
God can do that
And hear the prayers
Of everyone
Who speaks
Or thinks
Into that extraordinary network
Where angels might be working
Fast
At fever pitch
We could think
Though they must be even-handed
Being willed to perfection
But beyond fancy
Really
Or what really happens
We don’t know
God hears us
And responds
With reason
And attentiveness
Yes
With a modicum
Of mystery
God’s timing is not ours
More so the wisdom
As we are heard
And loved
Each time
Re-Tool
I wish the news were better
Stabbings in New York
After guns
We’ll have to outlaw knives
Stabbings in many places
I guess they are
Cheap guns
The wars go on
And now
We missile Houthis
And I can’t say
We shouldn’t
Though we have a State Department
That’s pretty big
And pretty busy
I think on the tall trees
And want them to remain
Or to be moved
With the kind of skill
We have
In such things
Rather than topple
Cut down
And cut apart
For tables
Spoons
And toothpicks
And so go our forests
And our oxygen
For ages
Though we might find it hard to breathe
Today
There are wonders
In the woods
And in the animals
No matter where
But so many things that live
And maybe nearly all
Have pain centers
And something for a thought
If only impulse
In something
Like a mind
We could try to relate
Before the slaughter
I really think
We could
I know it would harm industry
Though industry’s
Industrious
And should find something else
As it has
At least when successful
As it can be
Re-think
Re-tool
Re-train
Get governments
Communities
To help
While we get
To keep a world
With more
Positive prosperity
That might engender
More
Good feeling
So we keep
Our knives in drawers
From Out of Town
I am a visitor
More spectator
Than participant
These folk
Know their world
And I am visiting
Without a ticket
Except for love
Saturated
In the invitation
C L Couch
Photo by Jigar Panchal on Unsplash
We Want to Make This Classic
Two years
Plus three months
Two wars
The ones we know about
Who are the combatants
How much material
Is left
To each side
How much longer
Even supplied
By the bigger thugs outside
Who claim
Defense defending
How much robbing
Peter
To pay Paul
And then Paul
Demands more and more
Of Peter
And it’s us
Is the idea
All us
We lose
We run down
We run out
We manufacture more
To say
It’s good for the economy
While the vaults in
Hell
Or waiting by the river Styx
Are the only things
That are full
And this become our legacy
We lose
Things from the Earth
That cannot be restored
Life in which
We had only given
Love
And there is less
The surplus population
Whom did we not need
And did we push them
Toward the front
Uriah-like
Of course
We wish it over
We wish them done
So we could walk across the fields
And say
This happened here
But statues
And they are meaningful
Fly flags
The same
By force
A fallow field
Unchanneled water
And who knows what
Congeals inside
Our natural
And plastic substances
To raise
Hate
Or something else we hide
Ongoing tries
For greed
Until we say
There
Someone made money
Out of this
Someone got a bit of power
Well
The illusion of it
Anyway
But that’s the best we have
In shadowlands
Expanse
There is the sun
At last
It will rise into the clouds
Maybe into a day
That’s only gray
Until the setting hour
When all these lines of yellow
Turn toward red
Then blue
Then black of night
It happens all the time
And is not
What’s happening
There are orbits
There are rings
Of different shapes and sizes
There are fields of gravity
There is magnetism
We try
To ken it all
To suss the meaning
In the measure
Or get a damn fine story
Out of it
Feature
Human interest
Sci-fi tome
That tells us where we’ve been
And where fancifully
We might be going
Out of these rounded places
Into an
Unbounded expanse
With only our imagination
For a shield
C L Couch
Photo by Krisztian Matyas on Unsplash
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