cherish is the word
the spooky tree
I just heard mention of
a “spooky tree”
trees are spooky
I suppose
or can be especially when given
the Hallowe’en shape
and
association
though trees are green as well
and the green parts
we are drawn
to
for all they are as well as
what they mean
green
la vida
(not loca)
we have had an equinox
lately
and so we’re on a kind of edge
or cusp
in
not so much
the sky-shape of the moon
and how the stars
are
traveling
or even tables of tides
or even
Zodiac zones
we are on a line
an edge
a cusp
and spring should follow
normally
though we have put the seasons on an edge
as well
through what we’ve done to sky
water
and ground
our edge
(related to the others)
is made up of
resolve
which the other things with lines and such
can’t muster
we choose the Earth
we choose
the sky
the water
and the ground
and we choose each other
in the kind of
relation
that comes with deciding our part
of the cosmos
(sometimes
consideration is that
big)
what shall we choose
and
how to live
we have a cusp for timing
there’s no point in
despotism
we can be equal in each other’s eyes
and
all selective senses
and
yes
there’s good
and there is evil
and they need attending
for each is in the world
as each is
in
and from
each of us
we have to keep a world
governments and industries
we should value life
our lives
in whatever motley way we have life
once
we have it
and it goes on
the isms have their place
though they should be mollified by
things
mentioned through ages
befitting
old
and new
and renewed
c l couch
“Cherish” is a song written by Terry Kirkman and recorded by The Association. “Cherish” was released in 1966.
Photo by USGS on Unsplash[--]Soaring, snow-capped peaks and ridges of the eastern Himalaya Mountains create an irregular white-on-red patchwork between major rivers in southwestern China. The Himalayas are made up of three parallel mountain ranges that together extend more than 2,900 kilometers. [From USGS.] (And it looks a bit like a Hallowe’en tree. From me.)
The Body Practical
The human body
Is impractical
I mean
It’s working well enough
Until it isn’t
But what we really need
In addition to nominal
Health
Is an option for gills
That fold away
Until we need them
And we need
Wings
That keep
And when unfurled
Remind us as we fly
That God favors
Us
In making us
And we
At the very least
Owe the favor in return
While we are soaring
And at other
Times
Plunging
Also with delight
Into the depths
C L Couch
Photo by ibuki Tsubo on Unsplash
Prayer in Search of a Liturgist
And if we pray
Should we find a service
Or something
A box
As it were
In which to keep it
Give it
A liturgical home
A formal place
To live
Like a tabernacle or
A reliquary
Or may our prayer
Rise to the trees
And that’s
Enough
Not even to find a nest
But leave the tree’s tendrils
To aim
Even for soaring
Blue then white
Then to the black of space
Or
Un-Claudius like
Might it be helpful
For a prayer
To descend
Into the ground
To talk with
Seeds
Or to the ocean floor
For octopi-like things or
Expulsive vents
Or to go down
To a kind of nothingness
That you are Lord of
Too
Directionful
Directionless
Might prayer go where it needs to be
Where it un-needs to be
For your approval
And
Somehow
For application
Even without much more
Than itself
By itself
To consider
By us
By tree
By space
By Earth
By depth
By you
C L Couch
Photo by Bogomil Mihaylov on Unsplash
(Claudius in Hamlet declares “My words fly up, my thoughts remain below;/Words without thoughts never to heaven go.”)
Outlook
It’s
Sun
And yellow on brown
For trees
While the sky is an ashy blue behind
I know it’s Lent
And maybe this is a somber
Spring day
Maybe a calling to
Remember this is what happens
After
Winter
After March’s lion
March’s lamb
Straightforward observations
With ingredients of
Folklore
Added
Even to the speaking of the sun
The day
To us
Unusual
After all
Like a little revolution
A little anthropomorphizing
Is a good thing
Which we’re gonna do
Anyway
Thinking of a sun that smiles
Looking for
The face
In the moon
Tonight
C L Couch
“I hold it that a little rebellion now and then is a good thing . . .”—Thomas Jefferson
Photo by JOSHUA COLEMAN on Unsplash
Shall I Compare Thee to a Winter’s Day?
Shall I compare thee to a winter’s day?
Cold wind must have its way on us:
But thou art cooler than with ice to play
Through season’s layers in response to fuss;
We play outside then warm ourselves inside
Where should thou offer play ourselves a game;
And I am thankful for hot chocolate’s tide,
Though I fall prey to local champion’s fame;
And thou shall treat me when I am of need
If know thou might give over certain flaws,
And let me help thee with an even speed
And yet excel according to love’s laws;
And I must give according to my own
And yet if thou should have thy way made clear,
My own mistakes too sharp as snow is blown,
Then winter’s day know only thawed hearts here;
Fair face’s features with expressive eyes,
Thy bounding love unbounded by the world;
Grace in thy form as only our God buys—
Thy words and insights found like treasure pearl’d;
And should I ask and knowing I must wait
Might we so heat above the frost, our fate.
C L Couch
Photo by Tarryn Grignet on Unsplash
the familiar way we used to speak
God
you’re here
but there is such a dullness
between you and me
could be an unmoving field
I put there myself
even
unknowing
then to wake to it
and wonder how the barrier
got there
maybe it’s mortality
maybe it’s greed
I’m not sure I know
maybe it’s difference
as in
I’ll come over to you when it’s easy
when the way is lit
thy word
is a lamp
I’ve heard
and are the thees and thous allowed
the ironic use of you
we have let go
the intimate
the way one would say
and has
said
how do I love thee
thou dost prepare
and I should let thee
love
allowing that thou
loves
for creation’s thine
and love's
and so is
mine
c l couch
it used to be that thee was the close way to say you, which is why thee was used in making the Authorized Version and in language overall; ironically, we think of thee and thou and thine as a formal way if at all, and we really don’t, to write and talk and such
references to the Old Testament, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Shakespeare allusion in the photo
photo by Landon Parenteau on Unsplash
Aspen Trees Growing in Saskatchewan Summer [given title]
in the big inning
in Jewish and in Christian
lores
there are creation stories told
more than once
and in parts
many times
even Jesus
said to be there
calling the beginning of the essences
become
reality
and there are stories of us
and how we came to be
and way
made one perhaps
made two
without doubt
a sin of consumption
followed by
what might be more a problem of
division
then to rationalize mistakes and so
prescribe the direction
they must follow
all three
all four
for God had made that rock
that God could not
move
because like biased gravity
God’s will
must be mediated
by God’s will
that is leant by God’s
love
in love
and in joy’s promise
all was made by God and to the host
and to the cosmos
and to us
and after all the dreadful plan must work
there is like
Pandora
one thing left
the second thing of tripartite
things
being faith
and love
and to fix the world
is hope
say
faith the reason
love the means
hope
the vision
as in why bother in the first place
and this is lore
and this is
myth
and we interpret as we guess
from our experience
and there are many stories
we should read and respect them all
to know
beginnings
explain the present
situations
and
(via
hope)
respect the promise of the future
that
tells us how to believe
and think
and act
respecting all traditions
in their dovetailing
and as they work out
to reveal in time
(both
ways)
the first and final reasons
revelations
n.b.
and
yes
I know that you might want
to say that God’s not part of this
no more
and we are on our own
and maybe always
eschewing partnership
as if Michelangelo should have no faith
and the lone
wolf
an honest perception
though it’s not
wolves living together
monogamous
in families
that
despite the isolation earnestly
perspective
there is more joining than a separation
more
that are joined
than all the pages of betrayal attempt
to testify
and
the main message that
we’re on our own
we’re not
c l couch
photo by Shishir Iyer on Unsplash
“Same Old,” “Same New,” two poems about faith and doubt (or doubt and faith)
Same Old
I’ve written
On these themes before
And sorry for
The repetition
Sometimes
I know
And deal in the same
The seasons
Say
Because these things wear well
At least on me
Like shoes that fit
At last
Or stories that we like
To tell
The substance of Dad
Jokes
No doubt
But here I deal
Because
I must confess that some things get
To me
Which might be sole motivation
For
Classic-worthy writers
(like the class that earns
gold medals)
but
Sometimes I fear as well in addition to
The trouble
Heartless
Of the intellect
Where do we go
And why the lack of permission
To know
I could take gnosis or agnosis
I suppose
But beyond
Secret knowledge
And the memberships
How do we
Know
As anyone
To know for
Real
When even feelings of assurance
Fail
While our God says
Through lore
That God loves us
And wants
If not aches
For all of us be joined with God sometime
Well
The testimonies that we have
Discuss doubt
Even in those right before the Lord
Not
For us
From ages past
Hmm
Maybe there’s something there
In I believe
Help my unbelief
The
Salvation formula clearly given
And yet
One must admit to doubting
Even in the face
Or by the words of
God
Moses
Miriam
Others
With the loving parent brought before
The Christ
In order for the child to be healed
And told
Believe
Is all
And must say to Christ
I believe
And I don’t believe
And I must ask you to help me
In the second
Maybe both
And then
You know
Without a test
(a further test perhaps)
The child is healed
Mark 9
You can Thurber-look it up
Yet there is doubt
To read
And doubt
To have
And finally the doubt beneath the doubt
Like the last temptations
We have heard
About
The final doubt that maybe all
Must face
In that all this of faith is real
With the results
Rewards
Perhaps
Truly
Taking place
And for faith we are heaven-sent
And then heaven-arrived
I believe
Help my unbelief
We come from God
We go to God
No doubt
Same New
And why
Should it have to go this way
Maybe not
If there were no
Postlapsarian
Maybe unfallen
Our impulse would be clear
That we are here
To tend
A garden
And each other
Build a planet
With
Because we have
Approval of the Lord
Maybe Love divine
All loves
Excelling
That with will
We go the first way
The way set up
The way
Hoped for
By the creator who must weep
Maybe turn angry when
We go the other way
The way
Of life we know
We have
Regardless of our knowing
Even
Rather mindlessly
Living for the self and for
Enough freedom
To live
In hard times
Or
Take despot-like because
Soft
Times are desired and
We might get away
With that
For those aware of virtues
To follow or
Desist
For those facing temptation
To give in
Or resist
Well
We could be puppets of the Lord
And
We are not
And there are consequences
To the will
We choose with harder judgments on
Those who steal choices
From others
And notions of paradise are fine
Truly fine
But cannot be realized here
Or any institution
Since
All things collective are inhabited
After all
By us
The way we are
And so paradise is distant
So distant as to be unreachable
Before
An afterlife
When and where
Forgiven things are not
Extant and the honest life put down
Is raised
To live inside
A new
And everlasting
Trend
Sigh
Outside of Eden
Where it’s hard
Though
Maybe we’d have had hard work
For perform in there
With
The work meaning delight
For
The change from how we treat work
Have work treat us
Now
Well
We live now
And may look forward
Toward something beyond
A worldly end
To something
Perelandra-like
Means
Both a willful and
Sinless life
Even
A planet’s existence
Decided
The right way from Eden
C L Couch
Perelandra, novel by C. S. Lewis; “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling,” hymn by Charles Wesley; Mark 9 in the Christian New Testament; “You Could Look It Up,” short story by James Thurber
Photo by Paolo Bendandi on Unsplash
BELIEF (for translation)
Lyon, France
lyrics on a day that’s cold and cold at least in the MidAtlantic
Suburban Wait
Winter light’s
Too bright
For cleaning deeply
Finally
Dispiriting
The leaning light
Shows everything we’ll never get
To or
Even want
To get around to
Those dust-bunnies shall
Keep their warrens
After all
While we wait
For the easy lighting
To clean by
Which
Will happen
You know
Spring
Roll
Roll in the hay
Roll out the barrel
Mister
Yankovic
Roll on home
Now
There might be rolls
For dinner
Rolled oats
Though I don’t know what
These are
Roll the dice
Roll to win
Field Work
God
You love us
Anyway
Which is remarkable
Not inexcusably
But
Unconditionally
Which splices doctrine
Maybe
But you can handle that
And so
Should we
The field of the Lord is vast
There are no mines
No
Not ever
Only living things
Mythic plants
That spring back as we pass over
Them
So that everyone may have
The chance
To pilgrim
Toward
What’s next
Possessive Tense
The dogs of God
The cats
The bunnies
Too
The aardvarks
And the platypus too silly
Some
Might think
The insects
Too
There might be reasons
For mosquitoes
What is tall
What is
Low
What is brief
What has long life
On Earth
The Earth is the Lord’s
Too
A place on which to keep
The complex
Living things
And
Well
Among these
Us
Use Words
(as you are able)
I love you
Honestly
I know
(since I’m in me)
You love me
I think I know
Not quite as
Whose woods are these
I know
(not with the same divine
assurance
frankly)
So you might have to say
From time to time
Though if you
Always do
(flawed occasions notwithstanding)
Then
Maybe not so much to say
But
Sorry
Still
To say
C L Couch
“Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,” Robert Frost (cited)
Photo by Kevin Cress on Unsplash
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