2 poems about questions, answers, roads paved or more or less left wild
My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following Your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.
Thomas Merton
Please It’s Time
Time to go
Hello
I must be going
Don’t know where I’m going
How I’ll get there
Hire people
Friends
And family
I think
Will help
In several ways
Some place much quieter
Maybe without anyone
Above
A first-floor place
With a cottage
Or a monk’s-cell
Feeling
Even
While in touch with those
Around me
Still
But a kind of silence
(normal noise)
Predominant
So I may think
You know
And write
Something that I mean
That is not mere cant
To the bad noise
All around me
Now
Until it be then
Because there is more peace
Possible
In a new place
With
Who knows
Insulation
Maybe a care
For domicilic living
Each on our own
Together
When it’s willful
And pleasant
To meet
Drink
Talk
Reflect
Together on
Now and then
Merton Certainty
(with examples in the irony)
What shall I do
I feel too tired
To move around
To do
Much of anything
So what shall I do
It’s a matter of
Decisiveness
As well
Against the fears
That stall me
Like an engine
Without fuel
Or with
An enigmatic problem
Where shall I go
I do not know
Where would you send me
Lord
If that’s a possibility
Anymore
If I haven’t used up
All the opportunity
You made in me
On what has exhausted me
Left me with lethargy
For legacy
Sigh
It’s all
Tired confusion
And there’s penury
For by now I guess I know
What I would
Do
Where I would go
To do it
Situations
Simply prevail as well
We are not in a vacuum
Even with
Our breathing apparatus
We might be stuck
Or simply feel
In place
Without the drive from
Me or someone else
To change
To go
To Ulysses-try
Lord Tennyson
Were I a lord
I would not hesitate
Again
But give things a go
Since there should
Be funding
Even expectation
That I be on the move
To earn my title
Each day
I live with it
And this is why
Maybe
Some of us rob this
Place of that
To have a sum
To say
Self-deceptively
I only need one
One amount
For food
And exhalation
Then to spend
Of course on
A better kind of life
Maybe
For all around me
Or I’ll go somewhere
To spend
Until I’m caught
Or must surrender
In the other way
I don’t know
Except there won’t be
Taking anything
If I must say
No more
For I don’t know
How we might steal from
Each other
Which is
You know
The other side of coveting
Leaving eight
Commandments
To be bad at
As well
Though really
As we age
If we age
Nearer to judgment
If we get
To go
That way
We might relinquish
Mortal holds
On many things
Literal
Abstract
The things we always wanted
And the wanting
Maybe
I feel this way
Wanting less
Thinking less
Of years to come
Because I can’t
It isn’t
Reasonable
Except for afterlife
So defined
That as
Such we do not know
We are not sure
Precisely
How it goes
But anyway
There is a mortal day
Today
And it shall feel forever
In a part of me
Surprising
Ending
Maybe
(well
for certain)
But for now
Do what we can
Breathe what there is
Maybe find
A kind of peace
In this
Or enough ambition
Still or new
To try
Even
To strive
(lord
and Lord)
Ulysses-like
The conundrum of
Sit still
Or sail on
When both have virtues
Both are real
And romantic
Do one
Or the other
Maybe time for both
Taste
And see
And also hear
And use the other senses
To suss
Then practice
On virtue or the other
Travel minimally
Like
Henry David
Or take a chance
On the world
Like
Amelia
C L Couch
www.stjameslimerick.org/daily-devotions/2021/9/21/a-prayer-of-unknowing (and cited many times, many places on line and in books and maybe in sermons)
Photo by Bahador on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
The Impoverished
x
It is another day
To wake up into misery
Sometimes a vivid
Dream
Takes me to
A place that is not
So spectacular but
I want to live there
And I wake up
And I’m here
I wake to the gray skies
Of war
Or my child is
Still sick
Or my child is gone
My children
x
There is my own pathology
It hurts
And there is no promise
Of change for the better
x
I wake into many
Who have problems
And they seep
Or crash into awareness
I have no money
Or my clothes are poor
My shoes don’t wrap around
My feet
So I have trouble moving
And I’m seen first
For the problems that I have
x
I’m seen first
For the problems that I have
That’s how my friends know me
Or my family
Or anyone
First, I am the sad one
Or the needy one
The one with problems
I am an individual
Also a family
Or a nation
I grow to hate waking up
Like this
I grow to hate waking up
Can someone make
The day better?
Can I?
x
A song could name this
But is no breath
For singing
There is no cause
Or there is
And I forget
It’s been too long
x
I could say, Help me
But I don’t know how
Sometimes it’s
Antagonistic
The responses that I get
When I used to ask
Mostly it’s apathy
With closed pockets
I never get close to,
Which is fine
I don’t want your pockets
I want my own
x
I want what I used to have
Or maybe never had
I want what I need
And a little more
So I am ready
When I hear of
Need
Someone
A family
Or a nation
x
To give out of what I have
And a little more
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Peter Herrmann on Unsplash
The Other Way
published 2 hours ago
x
(x = space)
x
x
Catechesis, Part 1
x
questions
x
I got up in time,
Sort of
How did you do?
Is it a good day?
Are things going well?
x
I missed my turn at prayer
The group went on
And I hope the quiet praying
Counted
I don’t know the protocols
On Earth, in heaven
So well
x
I fact,
When I feel my tether pulled,
So to speak,
On Earth or heaven,
I ask, existentially
What do you want of me?
And Who are you?
Asking anything of me
x
Not that I take it amiss
I have time
Enough lack of direction
That I may respond happily,
Given
Something good to do
x
x
Catechesis, Part 2
x
answers
x
You are God,
I think,
Maker of all things
That must mean good and bad
Downright evil
Or so frustrating that
Some of us
Might want
To scream and do
So you are the God
Of good things and bad things
And evil things
Supposing the delightful things as well
Spring and picnics in good weather,
Cool water, wine,
And sex
Beside still waters
(metaphorically at least)
You are with us
In all things,
Somehow excused of voyeurism,
Which might be why
The seraphim have so many eyes apiece
So that one eye or another
Might be closed
With no loss to function, overall
x
Anyway,
You want of us to love
To love you
To accept love from you,
Which isn’t a done deal
You know, during
Those awful times
When so much has been lost
To the dark
Forever night
Without night’s comforts
‘Til a white sun rises over day,
All our empty landscapes
x
You are there
Maybe we’ll excuse this
One way or the other
x
x
C L Couch
x
x
x
Photo by Avery D’Alessandro on Unsplash
x
(x = space,
because I can’t cut and paste
using the new WordPress editor—
grrr)
x
x
Asking Questions, Desert Mother
(two poems)
x
x
Asking Questions
x
After the years,
Asking questions that
Could be left to children:
What do I want to
Be when
I grow up?
What do you want
Of me, dear Lord,
Or anyone (else)
Who cares?
How do I give without
Being taken in?
(okay, this question
more for the grown-up, maybe
embittered)
x
And do we
Always ask these questions,
Or is it more rarefied
To do so?
Or simply strange
x
There is a wider
World of happenings,
Some brutal and, well,
Simply bad
Though much of it
Is beautiful,
Inside and outside human
Flesh and in
The natures we’ve been given,
The nature of ourselves and
The nature of the planet
x
These days, especially, it’s
Not hard to find out
What’s going on,
Though much remains
Hidden by
The agenda-hiders, which
Is regrettable
x
All shall be known,
Eventually
And it might go hard
But, you know, for now
Let’s keep asking questions
Of ourselves,
Our world,
And of God
x
Let’s take lifetimes, then,
To learn to ask
And then be satisfied with
What we learn
When asking,
Because we’re still outside the gate
Often forgetting there’s
Paradise nearby
x
x
Desert Mother
x
I have a sharp pain
In my foot
To distract me
From the headache
x
I guess this is
Negotiation with the
Lord
Who made me
And tasks me
In such ways
x
I am old
And beyond children
Except the ones
I talk to
In this way
x
Whether or not I’m heard
I shall not know
Because I’m here
And they
And you
Are there
x
When I am
In heaven, I still
Might not know how
The children of
Earth have done
Until you are old,
Then sleep
As I have done
And wake to me
And all the rest
Who have been waiting
For you
x
And, yes,
We have other things
To do here
So will you
x
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Michael Milverton on Unsplash
Wylie Bay Rd, Bandy Creek WA 6450, Australia, Bandy Creek
Sand Sand Everywhere
x
Questions for my nominees are:
(my questions to answer)
1.What do you write and Why do u write?
2.Who are you n where do u belong to?
3.What do you love beside writing?
4.What is your ultimate aim in life?
5.Are you single, in a relationship or married?
6.What is the best thing about you?
7.Which is your favorite book and why?
8.Who is your idol?
9.Give some tips on becoming a good writer.
10.What would you do if you were the last person in world?
11.How many friends and fans do u have? Describe your best friend.
My thanks to Isolated Girl, https://jyoteeblog.wordpress.com/, for the nomination! What follow are my responses to the questions above, then in turn my nominations.
- I used to say I write because I need to, and that’s right. But I write because I want to, too. I started my blog during recovery from surgery. The blog—writing and corresponding with other bloggers—kept me sane. What do I write? Poetry, each day. I’m also keeping a journal. Last summer, when I pretty much couldn’t do anything, I drafted a novel (in verse) and started drafting another. I write prose, too. Letters to the editor, when I’m moved by something exigent. Essays and articles, too. Course syllabi, when I’m teaching.
- I live in Pennsylvania in the USA. I live in a small town (called boroughs, here) named for mechanics who used to fix covered wagons for pioneers heading out west. My immediate family is four siblings. I am the middle child. I grew up with cats and dogs and other creatures (besides my sibs). I had a cat who died a couple of years back at nineteen. She had all that time to train me. I’m sure I failed.
- Well, reading, naturally enough. I read young-adult literature. I read works about spirituality. I also read mystery novels. I walk. I spend time with friends. I take day-trips to nowhere in particular.
- My aim in life is to publish a small book of poetry. My other aim is to live more comfortably and completely than I do. There’s an image of Bilbo Baggins, retired and writing verse in Rivendell. I like that.
- I am single. So far never married.
- My best day-to-day skill might be listening. Each one has a story, and that story has great value. I enjoy eliciting parts of others’ stories. And hearing what else someone might want or need to talk about.
- My favorite book (see note 4, above) is The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien. I’ve read this novel a number of times and listened to various readings. I’ve researched and published some about it. I’ve taught The Hobbit many times. I like the hobbit’s lifestyle and the one great adventure he is talked into taking.
- I wish I’d had a Gandalf in my life or a Merlin, parent, school advisor, or work supervisor who was a mentor for me. I didn’t have such a one. I grew up in a strange time, when everything was questioned with few good answers provided. So I guess I’d say my idol is C. S. Lewis who took his smarts about literature and life and became Christian and an apologist. Faith doesn’t have to make sense as thoroughly to me as it had to for Lewis, but he clearly argued that belief is reasonable and that believing is intelligent. I respect that about Christianity and any other faith tradition. Or none.
- Every now and then, a student will ask about increasing vocabulary. I say read something. Read something you enjoy. Your vocabulary and diction (choice of words) will grow this way. When writing, a writer should write. And keep writing, even when most of what’s set down is set aside. Art used to mean theory and vision, and science meant practice and skill. At the foundation of the theoretical part of writing is understanding that writing is a process. The science of writing is to keep practicing until you make something with which you are satisfied. Then get the writing out there. Writing is not complete until it is read and responded to. Writing is a chore, as it should be. While you write, avoid cliché, unless you mean to use cliché. When writing poetry, if rhyme becomes too laborious, then don’t use it. Same with metre—it’s possible the poem wants to go another way. Allow exploring and discovery through the writing act.
- If I were the last person, I’d find things to remind me of humanity. Videos, sound recordings, photographs. I’d gather in ways and means to drink and eat and dress and with which to get around. I’d spend time each day trying to find someone else in the neighborhood, the cosmos, maybe the multiverse. I’d read and write each day and still find ways to grow my mind and heart. I’d talk with God all the time.
- I don’t know about fans. Members of my family are friends, and I am thankful. The next generation of family is friendly, too. My neighbors are my friends. I live in part of an old house, and those across the hall and downstairs from me are wonderful companions. We help each other out as well. I have friends with whom I socialize. In my life, a short thread of best friends has been intertwined. One friend moved way. A couple of times I’ve moved. One best friend has died. My best friend now is someone with whom I communicate pretty regularly. Right now, I’m house-sitting in a distant place; so we communicate electronically. We help each other in substantial ways. We gone to the hospital for and with each other. We also watch movies and read things to talk about. So I have a small circle of family, friends, and a best friend. Blogging has brought me new friends. I find these happy and important relationships.
I’ve enjoyed the pleasure of nominating bloggers for awards. I’ll try to think of some others, here, and probably will overlap as well. And if an award-free blog is kept and one doesn’t mind, simply enjoy what pleasure might come from being nominated.
I nominate
https://sabethville.wordpress.com/
https://moonskittles.wordpress.com/
https://straycoffee.wordpress.com/
http://shannonpaigewaters.com/
https://thesarahdoughty.wordpress.com/
https://mariawenttotown15.wordpress.com/
https://kokoboocro.wordpress.com/
(I think my citing your sites pings back to you. I hope I have this right.)
Rules:
- Thank the person who nominated you in the blog post.
- Answer the 11 questions set by the person who nominated you.
- Nominate 11 blogs to receive the award and write them 11 new questions to answer.
- Copy the icon to post at your blog site.
My questions for you (borrowed, adapted, and new):
- What do you write?
- Why do u write?
- What do you love besides writing?
- What is an aim in life you are working on right now?
- What is a positive quality about you?
- Do you have or have you had a mentor? If so, who, please?
- Which is your favorite book and why?
- Is there a favorite way (place, accompaniments, posture) you have to write?
- What are some tips on becoming a good writer?
- What would you do if you were the last person in the world?
- Why are your friends your friends?
clcouch123 
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