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.)
c l couch
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.)
here’s a chapbooklet for later on Thanksgiving Day or next should such things be saved—happy day, please be safe (irregardless of the world), maybe don’t deep-fry anything
A Day in the Life
It’s a strange world
Uncivil people live above me
By default
Encouraging me
To be the same
It’s a chilly town
In fact
Socially speaking
We bare say hello when we pass
And most often
Say nothing
Nothing
Through eye contact
Either
I suppose there are safe
Encapsulations
Maybe where
The profit’s highest
Too
Little havens
Barricaded from the rest
From us plain folk
Who want
A relatively easy life for interactions
Not to deal with the wanton noise
That simply proves
We’re here
Against and by
Indifferent suffering
Or prejudicial machinations
A happy holiday
Why don’t we
Tried
I’m tired
And maybe tired
Is good for now
I can’t do much
But so what
The world doesn’t
Turn by me
Or any
Rather
It’s a twirling gift
From God
And maybe if don’t clean
Enough
That only
Causes me to suffer
That’s all right
God loves me
Still
Both ways
As God loves you
Parade Monologue
(Thanksgiving day)
It was okay
I guess
Which is an awful thing to say
I’m sure
All the millions
Of hours
And
Yes
All the money
Too
In hope of celebration
For good ratings
I’m sorry
But it’s an electronic masquerade
Anymore
Pretty enough
Though there are mistakes
Mostly let go
(mostly)
Which seems odd to me
When the agenda
Is perfection
Yet
We can’t pull it off
In
Well
Anything
Pretty enough
I suppose
But it could be less perfect
Less tall
Save for the floats
As in
The high balloons
That seem to have a life
For movement
And
I guess
They do
Though where was Underdog
(supposing it’s too much
to look for
the Sinclair dragon
anymore)
The marching
Playing
Twirling bands
Are good
And should get more time
All the celebrities
We could use less
Of the ones
I do not know
And mostly will not see again
Which
I suppose
Is my problem
In cultural ignorance
But
God bless the Rockettes
And Santa Claus
(pulled by a cool
truck
this year)
Whose appearance
Mom would say
Means the official
(family)
Start
Of the Christmas holiday
Season
And I suppose
For Hannukah as well
And
Is it allowable
To wish for less
I wonder
In what begins
Our seasons of wonder
Thanksgiving Daytime
(in October by Canadians)
Water
One coffee
Then another
Yogurt
Time
I’m thankful
I could use less for thanks
Less noise
Less penury
But we have what we have
The days
Are existential building blocks
To make a tower
Of a life
Maybe a giant
Maybe a forest
Maybe a cover
And a framing for
A story about
Noise
A tower
With a giant
In a forest
I could be thankful for that
Too
And for imagination
Yours and mine
That could come up
With such things
Momaw Again
It is Momaw’s birthday
Most likely
You did not know Momaw
From Tennessee
Life in the Depression
A widow
Then the grandfather I knew
And comforts for
The rest of her life
In the nineties
And I’m glad and thankful
For her
Life on Earth
Thanksgiving for One
(how sorry should I feel)
I have a frozen entrée with
You know
The seasonal things
Inside
And a can of
Cranberry sauce
Whole not jellied
(sorry
Joe)
And
Sorry
Loneliness for a table
On my bed typing
In fact
And here I shall dinner
I presume
With noisy people
Up above
And a wish
For angel intervention
Maybe being tired
Is good for
Tolerance
Not isolation
That
Frankly
Today
Is not good for much of anything
An Approach in A-Grammar
(like a-nathema)
I made a lifetime out of
Getting the grammar
Right
And yet
Choose to use no punctuation here
Less and less
In fact
I guess I think
Line spacing helps
And as a reader
You may decide the pauses
Location and
Degree
As well
And maybe read through twice
Before deciding
How the thing should sound
Which could be an agenda
On my part
And thank you
For not smoking
(except metaphorical)
More so
For reading
Thank you
And thank you
Ms Lamott
Scripted
(rom-com)
1
Hug your mom
Why don’t you
It’s time
And regardless of the script
You should
Hug your mom
In this even-fictive moment
2
Two hands in the popcorn
Like
Lady and the Tramp
With spaghetti
More hygienic
This way
More noncommittal
Too
C L Couch
Photo by Odiseo Castrejon on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
two poems for Thanksgiving
x
x
The Godmother
(Sarah Josepha Buell Hale and Thanksgiving)
x
In the USA
Other nations have
Their days
It was Hale
An editor
Who lobbied
Above Washington’s
Claim as a foundation
That
The nation needed
Officially
Thanksgiving
Hale wrote to Lincoln
Other Presidents
Before
That this day was
Needed for a nation
Even in the
Horrible paradox of war
To say thank you
To whomever we should
Be saying thank you
x
Lincoln conceded
Gave a proclamation
That would not be set
For many years
Long after Hale’s
Life on Earth
Was done
x
A first Republican
Then a long-serving Democrat
(who liked new deals)
Sealed the deal
And so we have it
Fourth Thursday
In the ninth Roman month,
November
To you and me
x
x
The Day We Have
(on Thanksgiving)
x
Football and turkey
Then more football
Stuffing and cranberries
Maybe ham
Or roast beef
Or sandwiches from
The many places
Selling sandwiches
x
I suppose there will be
Beer and wine
(beer before wine is fine)
Water
Juice
Soft drinks
People ‘round the table
Between quarters
x
If turkey,
Then turkey sandwiches
(little mayo,
cranberry sauce)
Before the day is done
With
More sustenance
Kept inside the box
For tomorrow
And tomorrow and tomorrow
Since there’s too much
Lucky us
Who have too much
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Morvanic Lee on Unsplash
x
Thank you!
x
(x = space)
x
x
3 poems for summer solstice
x
x
Merry July
x
Solstice
It’s summer now
Summer weather smacks us
Here
Temps aiming for 90
I guess in Australia
New Zealand
New Guinea
Little America
Winter is begun
Throw logs on the fire
Sing winter carols
Withholding Christmas and
The other holidays
‘Til the start of summer
In December
Christmas in July
A custom mostly mercantile
In the north
Could be the real thing
With trees and
Were it high enough
Some snow
Ornaments and lights
Certainly
Merry Christmas in
Alice Springs
Wellington
Tierre del Fuego
On the Falklands
At the southern pole
Santa’s summer home
Like winter
x
x
Intentions
x
God, what shall I
Say to you?
I worship you
In contemporary ways
I’m sorry for sins
You have seen in me
And known for centuries
I thank you for your presence
Having made all good things
And the ways to deal
With the bad
I ask of you
To welcome home
Those who die
And heal those who live
Cure cancer
End war
Well, I can ask
x
x
Siblinghood
x
It’s like science fiction
Slipping out of time
Our of normalcy
Eating meals on time
Cleaning on a schedule
Ingrained expectations
Instinctive, conditioned
Responses
x
To fall outside of these
To live with fewer clothes
To hope for decent meals
In penury,
To dream of trips
But only travel like Thoreau
Walking to and from
The town
x
Everything else happens
On the inside
How sad this is
At least how strange
But there’s a purpose
Those who fall outside
Will look back
And when not wistful
Will prophecy
In art
x
x
C L Couch
x
x
Saint John’s (Midsummer) Fire at Dragør Beach (Denmark)
XSimon, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=53634435
x
(x = space)
x
x
At the Table
x
This is Tuesday
I hope this is
Will be
Or has been
A good Tuesday for you
(or across the world
might have been will be)
Even splendid
You are entitled
One of nearly eight billion
People
Your choices, well, that’s
Up to you
And not a matter for
Anything not like a tribunal
Present
If you are a despot, stop it
If you are a lousy neighbor,
Be a better one
But while the sun is out
(and when the moon is out
and that bemusing time
of dusk or dawn)
Take in free breaths
Let them out with gladness
And, dare I say,
Thanksgiving
For sometimes it is an easy Earth
When and where it’s not
Good breathing’s still required
With assistance added,
When needed
x
And, by the way,
Honey gets in everything
At table
I’m sure there are tricks
The bees know
Maybe through their knees
x
C L Couch
x
x
orange gradient fluid art
x
(x = space)
x
x
To Pilgrim
(at Thanksgiving, USA)
x
Pilgrims
On Thanksgiving
x
We make fun
Of their hats
And buckles
x
They might as well
Have been a foreign
People to the
(rest of the)
Whites as all the
Indigenous to
The whites
x
And they were:
They were a foreign
People
x
They carried faith
And dignity,
Faith in dignity,
To what all the western
Coastal, European
People called
A new world
x
Through stratagem
Or accident, they
Settled too far
North
x
They struggled;
They strove
x
Everything was
Struggling and
Striving to them
x
Moving, going
On their way
x
For them, to be
A pilgrim was
An action
x
On a journey
Neverending, ‘til
The end of this life
Start into another
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Dhimas Widrayato on Unsplash
It was 22:39, I went out to get some fresh air after some coding session then I saw a big moon on the sky, so I grab my camera then go to open space to shot this picture. The photo was taken in Tangerang, Indonesia.
x
Anticipation
(in pandemic time)
x
A day of
Thanksgiving
Is a week or so
From now
x
The Canadians
Had theirs on
Traditional
Columbus Day
And my sister’s
Birthday
x
We could combine
The two (not
the birthday) and
Thank first people
For tying up our
Boats, once
We got here
And then have
A national apology
Day for what was
Done to them
Next and since
It’s going to be
A bitterer day,
Anyway
x
Maybe we should
Thank the thankless
For a change,
Which would add
Some sweetness
x
And bittersweet
Ain’t bad
x
There’s wisdom
In it, for it’s
A quality
Both positive
And tempered
x
A good
Thanksgiving,
USA, once we get
There and in
Anticipation
x
C L Couch
x
x
By Visitor7 – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=27155416
Ketchup Bottles at Fullers Coffee Shop
x
(sorry, the image is especially enigmatic—a combination of the title, a song, and an advertisement)
x
Toast
(lids on hot food for now)
I woke up with a cold
I don’t care
I have this hour
And a day that could go twenty-four
Or become an age
As in day of the dinosaur,
Which is a really long day
You woke up this day with what you have
I hope it’s good
And if it’s not,
I hope it gets good and even better
For the hardship
We are awake
We have today
There’s sunshine somewhere
And out there the stars are turning
Movement proves life
Be easy
Or be crazy
Have a thought for someone else
And what she’s going through
We’ll see each other soon
Dancing in the skies
The circle won’t be broken or
Truth made out of lies
Now thinking-reverie must pause
Because there’s food and drink somewhere
And labor must be easy for a time
I hope we find the feast
Thank the host
Thank the guest
Hang on, if we must
Go in, because we can
C L Couch
Photo by Mark Cruz on Unsplash
What Do You Say, Dear?
Sometimes in weariness we wander
While we stay inside, trying to take in
The world about
How much sense we can make with
What immediate surrounds us
We don’t know,
Certainly
We can open a book of the paper
Or electric kind, and we should
Where do answer lie?
Like asking of the hills to bring our help
Or something in a psalm
We don’t need a tube (that
Kind of lumen, as I understand it)
We can read
We can listen, better
(though we listen to the reading words, I’m sure)
More directly,
We can have an understanding
With all atoms we encounter
We can be grateful
A moment of small noise in which
We utter some
Thanksgiving
And with an attitude re-enter everything
C L Couch
What Do You Say, Dear? is a delightful and wise book by Sesyle Joslin, illustrated by Maurice Sendak.
Photo by Humphrey Muleba on Unsplash
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