Search

clcouch123

I talk you talk we'll talk

Ephemeral

(x = space)

x

x

Ephemeral

x

A loose hair

A tress, in fact

Something for keeping

As Victorians

And other nineteenth-century

People

x

In a box

A remembrance of youth

Or younger days

Or the other day

When the lock was snipped

And tied with ribbon

And I remember you

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Emma Simpson on Unsplash

x

Unrequired Beauty

(x = space)

x

x

Unrequired Beauty

x

I drove by

What might have been

An accidental field

Of flowers

No fine edges

No uniform establishment

To speak of

If it had been planted

That was a while ago

Perennials, I imagine

Every year the patch returns

Of blue and purple

Rising

From brown earth

Like holidays

Like celebration

Slowly

x

C L Couch

x

x

Uva, Russia

Photo by Daniel Spase on Unsplash

x

Sorries

(x = space)

x

x

Sorries

x

Maybe there is

Nothing more

Sometimes

Except to say we’re sorry

We’ll do better

Then do better while

Moving on

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Andrew Johnson on Unsplash

x

(I made up “sorries.” Sorry.)

x

Slip-Sliding Petition

(x = space)

x

x

Slip-Sliding Petition

x

God, I’m tired

Not tired of life

But from lack of sleep

Dreams

That wear me out

So that I’ve lived a day already

Then try to rise

Into waking,

Real agendas

x

This is a prayer

Maybe I could ask for something

x

x

x

I can’t think of anything else

I’ve drifted off

Into Saturday

Or something like

Is Saturday a prayer?

Amen

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Daniel Olah on Unsplash

x

Close Call

(x = space)

x

x

Close Call

x

Danger, Will

Heatstroke air today

Both hot and humid

You’d swear we were

Sitting, rocking, reclining

On a porch

In a Southern family drama

Spanning time,

Hope, and cynicism

Sipped by lemonade

x

Don’t stop me if you’ve heard this

But once I asked a Southerner

How Southerners

Endured all the close heat

There

I thought maybe home remedies

Or some adaptation over generations

Here’s what I was told:

Air-conditioning

Sigh

No saga

Only appliances

Or a central system

x

C L Couch

x

x

First-edition dust jacket cover of As I Lay Dying (1930) by the American author William Faulkner.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=91865318

x

Each One an Apocalypse

(x = space)

x

x

Each One an Apocalypse

x

I look up to hills

From the valley

It’s not that the rescue

Has to come from there

Though there are climactic moments when

Over the ridges

Everyone needed

And everything

Appears

x

It’s that wherever from wherever

God is there

And it is God who rescues

Who swoops down

To carry us from battle

Takes us to water

Moving just enough

For a hand to fill

From which to drink,

Clean water played

Over wounds

We are better than we’ve felt for days

We are lifted up again

And taken to a home

Whose dimensions have been guessed at

But whose simplicity

In majesty

Is unknown ‘til we’re there

Where living’s perfect

And we are told

To stay

x

Each has an Armageddon,

An apocalypse

The unprevaricated spirit

Manifest

With mortality and eternity

On either side

And through and through

Some have called trinity

But is the nature of the Lord

Relational

And relational with everything

Forever

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by S Migaj on Unsplash

x

Stone Soup

(x = space)

x

x

Stone Soup

x

I don’t know what to say today

I want you to have a good day

x

And for a while

To know good days

And what to do when days are bad

Beyond the dreaming we all do

x

So that it’s

What we know to do with what we have

Sometimes that’s hard

And hard to believe we have

I’m poor

I know

Too close to the legacy

Of art and artists

x

But I know good people

Am learning to ask

And not gauge heaven by response

Or lack thereof

But to keep trying

x

Also allowing expectation

We live

We are entitled to live

I don’t know about evil people

I know so few

You are entitled, too, I suppose

I am not God

And cannot judge as God

x

But the many, many, many

Of us who are not evil, not pure good

A mix, you know–

Choose a complementary color

We are colors

We color the world

x

And are deserving

You deserve

A good day and another

A whole bunch like bananas

Or corn kernels on the cob

Or other things so many colors

(as I’ve said)

x

Anyway,

A wish is not a horse

Or an electric car

And, drat, we have to try

The curse of Adam, some would say

Eve is cursed as well

But curses are not endings

x

“We have to make our own way,”

I just heard,

Which is true

And there’s so much more

There’s you

There’s me

And any me or you who happens

To be close to you or me

In distance

Actual

Or relative

(and there’s cyber-),

Which is to say

x

A nearness

(actual or relative)

To help make life

One bowl of stone soup

At a time

x

C L Couch

x

x

     Stone Soup is a European folk story in which hungry strangers convince the people of a town to each share a small amount of their food in order to make a meal that everyone enjoys, and exists as a moral regarding the value of sharing. In varying traditions, the stone has been replaced with other common inedible objects, and therefore the fable is also known as axe soup, button soup, nail soup, and wood soup.

Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

x

Statue of a monk and stone soup (sopa da pedra) in Almeirim, Portugal

By Adriao – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7645719

x

Ex-Temporaneous

(x = space)

x

x

Ex-Temporaneous

x

It’s a dark day

Not enough for a

Ritual outside

And there’s rain

The sun tries

To come through

In patches

Dark hours nonetheless

x

That might be spent

At midnight

In the loft,

A vigil

And an offering

Prayer life in the dark

Ages behind that

x

Maybe a candle

Of the kind

That does not curse the darkness

But slices through it

If in, well, a fuzzy way

Batteries included

Diffuse Light and shadow

Diffuse

With unscripted words

Everything

Partnering

For the message

For the words

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Zoran Kokanovic on Unsplash

x

A Million Now

(x = space)

x

x

A Million Now

x

Two and a half years

A million dead

Shall we count?

We should have time

While counting out the days

For boosters

Should we be privileged

For boosters

x

If they were like stars

Then there would be no question

Everyone would want them

Like the bread

That goes with circuses

Is New York still giving money

For a shot?

x

People I know are gone

Because of COVID

It’s hard to take in

I might be dense

How could I know a million

Twenty times a number counted

For the city some miles away

Whose rutted streets

For the moment

Have no wagons for the dead

Or another absurdity in

A Python moment

x

Try to count

To a million

Try to consider millions of

The dead or fleeing

Thanks to war

Go ahead, combine the numbers

Since the same hate’s

At work

Every time

x

There is liberty

In abnegation

Deny the medicine

Turn oneself into

The other side of counting

x

C L Couch

x

x

1 Million COVID-19 Deaths in the United States

x

Photo by Susann Schuster on Unsplash

x

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑