so much for a Saturday
my goodness
today is Saturday
and I was so it was Friday
then
could be time for a weekend thought
and I will find such thoughts
while I am reading you
but before
when I’m on my own with coffee
and uncertainty
what shall I say for you that indicates
a thought or at least maybe a thoughtful
intention
even like a prayer
I think that you should have a fine day
but I mean that where-
ever you are
which means impossible
for flooding and
for war
(that is a war
with nature
or in a war with each other)
you might be wounded
held hostage
you might be sick
from deprivation
that has many reasons
many sources
that the potentates impose
or it might be
the tyranny of nature
breaking forth
breaking barriers
that at last are understood to withstand
nothing
we can frame
so how can you have a fine day
against these and
maybe not
though I will wish and go so far to offer
prayer
in some confidence
regardless
this is for you
as it’s all for you
of course
while self-expression might be adequate
a motivation
expression for the other
should be
(I believe)
resulting
and so I hope for you a fine day
even grand
because despite it all on Earth
by its design
and more by our own
there is faith
and if all codes by all divinities fail
or seem to fail
there is our faith
in each other
which is the real thing in that
as I write for me
I write for you
I go for the betterment of us
while you might do the same and so
a better world
in spite of
destructive fire
by nature
or our species
the better world
sung in trite songs
but
sophisticated
(well
enough)
and real
have a fine day
and better
c l couch
photo by NASA Hubble Space Telescope on Unsplash
Well and Good
(ironic)
Oh
God
I haven’t thought
So much of you today
Weighed
Down
By my perceptions
The license that I give to stress
And even honest pain that
Doesn’t ask
For this
Forgive me
I guess
Though I’ll be doing it
Again
And
Venial or mortal
I typically can’t
Tell
So that confession
Is not a bust
Though I’m sure
A disappointment
Sigh
What shall I do
To be a servant and
Myself
To serve another
Too
And to serve you
I know
Which should be
First
Sigh again
This might be a loop
If not a cycle of
Post-Edenic rebellion
Which
We set up
As it were
At the start
But is my nature
Always enough
To explain
While I have will
As we always have discretion
Even difficult
In the moment
But I’m sorry
And I’ve thought of you
For seconds
Now
Such a big deal
And should I wake up
In my anchorite cell
Even with a car
For company
A holy cat
By its own calling
Once retrieved
The gray stone
With a specific symbol
On the wall
And a few pages
By the bed
Made out of
Nature
Meaning
Natural things
To know that I’m devout
And here to serve
The people of today
In a world
That maybe strives to rise
Or to wallow
Though I must
Keep the vision
For all of us
That may
Allow ourselves to rise
Maybe through the window
And the windowed world
I have
To look out on the other
To wait
For the inevitable
And then to wait
As in to serve
Responding to their need
And how they
How you
Say it
Then all should know
And you may know
At last
That I am with
All the time
By my own will
My time and style
Though here I am
For now
Small-town
Me for now
With all my errant loves
And wish
I could
Do better
Though for lack of djinn
And also resolution
Remains a wish
Among wishes
For faith
Or for a pony
(again
sorry
and amen)
C L Couch
Photo by José Alejandro Cuffia on Unsplash
(psst, we’re busting out of here tonight—my caption, sorry
and in part of the poem-prayer I’m channeling Saint Julian)
(x = space)
x
x
Wake Up, Now
x
I haven’t heard
Or read the news
Seen images move
Across the screen
Or be still
There
x
So what happened
Overnight?
It’s Saturday
What high schools
Might be happier
For Friday’s games?
What nations
Changed?
Who might be in charge
Now?
x
How many
In the hospital
From one of or some or all the reasons
Who is on the way to heaven
Or purgation
We can only pray
And hope
For good things now for them
x
What have I wakened
Into?
How is my home
Of planet Earth?
What’s happening outside
That we only know now
As news,
Carried from light years away?
x
And what might happen here
Today?
I won’t know, of course,
Until the hours
Come to me
And I to them
Good morning, world
Good morning beyond the world
And inside
Where things are happening
Cellularly, too
x
And can I think of God
First thing?
I don’t think I can
I’m not devout
I’ll get to God
Once consciousness
And the lines of things
The shadows
And the shapes of light
Are seen
And anything to hear
Is heard
Maybe what woke me up
If the timing is untoward
x
I’m thinking of God now
For correction
A moment of chagrin
Wishing
(one wish of three wishes,
if there were a story
happening)
Wishing
I were faithful
Like the faithful
Waking up
To hear
And somehow see
Taste and smell
And touch
The agencies of God
And then the world
x
Sigh,
Good people
Special people
Waking up
So wonderfully
And usefully
x
C L Couch
x
x
x
(x = words)
x
x
Thought-Powered Words
x
The results were not good
I don’t mean to diary about it
But another organ is in trouble
I mean, I feel it
I thought it was gas
(hah)
And now I feel slowed-down today
In fact, since the phone call
Yesterday
x
Pray for me, friends,
As I pray for you
Though it’s not a deal—I
Pray for you anyway, and of course
I’m not sure what you do
x
But love has different kinds,
Hasn’t it?
We have ways to regard each other
Respecting who we are
What’s going well,
What’s not
x
I’ll take a good thought anytime
And be thankful
The words without thoughts don’t rise
As Claudius confesses
(Hamlet doesn’t hear)
But your words are thoughtful
They soar
I know,
I read them all the time
Then watch and hear
With the inner parts
Of eye and ear
x
C L Couch
x
x
citation
Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 3 (last two lines)
x
Photo by Rafik Wahba on Unsplash
x
After Words
(Lent 41)
x
There must still be words
We’re stuck with them, I guess
Or at least I am
x
We could end here
Or yesterday
But we won’t,
Which is not a matter of words
As it is of life
x
Yet we should be ready
Now,
To pause when needed
Maybe turn the pause to play
Whatever is called for
x
It’s called for often
Snow day
Day in the sun
Comp time (whoever has this)
Playing hooky
(you can look it up)
x
Work will resume
With its kind of
Awareness, learning, deciding
Not in cryptic ways
Or inaccessible
Though recall that there’s a mystery
In pretty much everything
x
The kind that moves a martyr’s heart
And for other reasons, too, can thrill the heart
Of each of us
Of the sort like
Joan, Priscilla, Rachel, Esther
Judith, Hrosvitha, and Hildegard
Who found their way with God
While in the world
x
And for the Joans, Priscillas, Rachels, Esthers
Judiths, though I don’t suppose we’ll be
Naming anyone Hildegard or
Hrosvitha for a while
We may
We will
x
I don’t know, I think we’ll find
What we need
As long as we don’t keep the process to ourselves
Or the results
x
Anyway,
I thought I should say something once it’s all over,
Our Lenten experience
We’re comingling times and traditions
Of the end of Lent (for those still counting),
The Passion, the Triduum, then
Easter and the Easter season
x
I pray
Together and apart
These are all good for you
The way spring days, clean from rain,
Can be
x
C L Couch
x
note for the blog
Counting forty days from Ash Wednesday takes Lent through Palm Sunday, which might seem odd given the reflective nature of the season maybe abandoned in triumphant celebration. But the count of days in Lent can take out the Sundays and Holy (Maundy) Thursday (when the celebration of the Eucharist occurs) and add in Good Friday and Holy Saturday to make up a count and observation of forty days. Timing of events for the Passion and the Triduum might overlap this way of counting, and it’s also true that some have it (more or less officially, according to one’s tradition) that the length of Lent (even the sense of forty days) be taken metaphorically.
I guess I’m counting forty days from Ash Wednesday and let the paradox of Palm Sunday prevail.
Whew.
x
Photo Credit: Wikimedia User John Morgan CC-BY-2.0
Slipstream
Too many thoughts to keep
I must let them go
Around the corner, just before
The turn, a thought moving
Too fast toward the new street
And I can’t catch up
To tap it on the shoulder
To say, Slow down! The neurons
Flash, and I miss everything
I want to get to know them
Look, here’s a café just along the way
We might stop, have some coffee
A nosh
While I may get to know you, maybe,
If you will,
Slip you in my pocket to go over with
Clarity, later on
No? The synaptic pace is set?
I’ll simply lose you, then
Have what marks I made
(little more than bird tracks)
Fold them in a file
Read over the pages from
Time to time
Hoping for salience with
A slowed-down sense
Of light speed
C L Couch
By Joachim Lutz, CC BY-SA 3.0 de, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=20052646
On a Monday Holiday
On a Monday holiday
Outside my window there
Is special quiet
I live on Main Street
Which, here, is
A main street
Much traffic in the
Town goes by and
Emergency vehicles
Yet all action by
Wise or by a fool
Sounds blanketed today
Even the helicopter
I hear now shudders
Through a more silent
Sky—yes, there is an
Air-push on its way
With a storm behind
But humidity rising
While the barometer
Descends does not
Evince, I think, the silence
Outside my window now
Now, where there’s
Muted sunlight, too
Where, fuzzily or not,
Thought is knocking on
The pane, asking for
An invite in—well, why
Not on this kind of day
clcouch123 
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