Search

clcouch123

I talk you talk we'll talk

Unbroken Surprise

(x = space)

x

x

Unbroken Surprise

x

I’d like to offer prayer

Of thanksgiving

For I have received

Good help

I can question how deserving

But I got it, anyway

x

In the moment,

Certain things let go:

Doubt, worth,

Particularity

People give, and I receive

Not that I haven’t helped before

x

But here is the receiving side:

Thankful, relieved

Not burden-free

But bearing less

Than before

x

All this to say thank you

To both sides of prayer

The givers

And this time

The one who has so gladly taken

x

C L Couch

x

x

National Day Fireworks

Photo by Erwan Hesry on Unsplash

Perros-Guirec, France

x

Good Machines

(x = space)

x

x

Good Machines

(for Earthly terrors)

x

Perhaps we could have cosmic-

Earth machines,

x

Could the floods

Be sucked up here—say,

In Germany and China—then

Taken and dropped there

Where the land

Is dry

And ablaze as the land

In California,

x

Then we’d have a system

Perhaps in harmony with nature,

x

Technocracy that favors life

In joy and praise

Of what machines can do

x

With pay and gratitude

The human operators

Deserve

x

C L Couch

x

x

Every spring the Mississippi River floods, but the downtown area of Davenport Iowa refuses to build a levee system to hold the waters back. It would block the river view. Some years the waters come several blocks up the banks and flood out local businesses.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Davenport, United States

x

Countdowning

(x = space)

x

x

Countdowning

x

It’s Tuesday,

And I didn’t know

This was happening

I follow the news

Though clearly

Not the timetables

x

I thought we’d

Have more time

To get used to the

Variance in the crew:

The one with white hair,

The one with shiny

Brown

x

Maybe when this

Is ordinary, things will

Be better

Arch-safety

Will be ordinary,

Less frantic for those

Of us

On the ground

x

They holding,

Time for nervousness

x

Please launch already

Then come back

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Possessed Photography on Unsplash

x

Childhood’s Beginning

(x = space)

x

x

Childhood’s Beginning

x

Here is the litany of complaints:

My back hurts;

I’m tired;

I’m tired of my back hurting

And my feet

And sometimes my left shoulder

And the headaches

x

I should soak my feet in

Medicated water,

Something like the

Still water

We are promised in

The company of the Lord

x

You have a list,

I’m sure

x

And I mean to be respectful,

But sometimes

The child’s cry is stronger than the

Grown-up’s

Sense of things; and

We should listen to

The child,

The plaintive child,

The honest child

x

Sometimes it hurts—

That’s all there is

x

C L Couch

x

x

A Silent Little Girl Looks at Camera

Photo by Assad Tanoli on Unsplash

Lassan Thakral, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, Pakistan

x

English teacher’s note

Arthur C. Clarke wrote a novel called Childhood’s End.

x

Presuming Invitation

(x = space)

x

x

Presuming Invitation

x

Dear citizens of heaven,

I hope to meet you

One day

x

I mean, I believe;

But like the Amish who

Respond I hope so when asked

About salvation,

I too am not taking anything

For granted

x

But I do look forward

(if not too forwardly)

To understanding

Golden streets that are

Transparent

And how a person (Jesus)

Might be a building,

Too

x

And if you don’t mind,

I’d to visit the renewed

Earth that revelation

Promises;

Maybe I could be assigned

There for a while

x

And what about the rest

Of the cosmos?

How much fell,

And how much will be restored?

I hope there are tours

x

I hope I might be allowed

To journey on my own

Or with a few companions,

Maybe newbies

Such as myself

x

All this is presuming, I

Understand;

And maybe nothing’s like

The screen that I see

Through for now

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Dewang Gupta on Unsplash

x

2 poems—pray for me, pray for you

(x = space)

x

x

2 poems—pray for me, pray for you

x

Life in 3/4 Time

x

I’m sorry, Lord

I spent half my life repressed

The other half aggressive

Now is a time of

Negotiated peace

I’ve tried to give up everything

From each time

Even time

So that now there’s little left

With which to make a new life

Made of acceptable things

For an acceptable time

x

x

Pray for Friends

x

Lord,

Watch over all my friends

Send your angels to protect

Them from all kinds

Of things

x

There is sickness

There are sick pets

There are jobs

And then no jobs

And sometimes jobs

Not worth the having

x

And sometimes things get

Broken, and there is pain

Of all kinds

Sometimes relationships

Are broken and I cannot

Speak with expertise

But eschew all the bitterness

As well

x

They are people, mostly

Some are animals

And I pray that where something

Has been split,

You will fill in with healing

And a promise

x

Though tomorrow only waits

While today is what

We have

So I must pray for now

For them

For you

x

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Tejash Verma on Unsplash

Agra, Uttar Pradesh, India

x

Death of a Coffeemaker

(x = space)

x

x

Death of a Coffeemaker

x

The world gets so small sometimes,

Doesn’t it?

I mean, there are real problems,

Real horrors,

Real fears

x

And yet this small machine

Has had enough:

For all the pressing,

The red light will not come on

x

And now the water in the reservoir

Has run all over the counter

x

Sigh, it had been in decline—and

Now I think it’s done

x

If I had all the memberships,

I could order something, and then

It would appear

Having been dropped gently

By a drone

Or through the door

Of a pilotless car

x

But I’m stuck with old-fashioned

And will have to visit all the stores

At hand

x

This could be an opportunity

To stop drinking coffee—

What?

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Goh Rhy Yan on Unsplash

Flying a drone at dusk in the city.

x

Animated

(x = space)

x

x

Animated

x

I imagine a cartoon globe,

The kind of old cartoon

Like old Popeyes or old Mickeys,

A cartoon Earth

Sending explosions into space: from

South Africa,

Afghanistan, Yemen

Cuba, Haiti,

And from certain places in

The USA

x

Maybe there are soldiers

(now we’re talking cels

for newsreels)

Marching through this cartoon

In perfect lock-step,

And maybe rockets are fired

With animated

Accuracy

x

And maybe the moon

Looks down with tears

As parts of Earth

Burn up,

The tears maybe cartoon-falling

From the face

On the fires

x

C L Couch

x

x

jah$tar printed graphics for animation. ammo stilo. grounded media. May, 2021.

Photo by Matt Moloney on Unsplash

Philly, PA, USA

x

How They Carry the Good News

(x = space)

x

x

How They Carry the Good News

x

I’m not sure what I’ll

Write today,

But there will be something

Something about me

And you

God and the whole world,

Which we sing is in

God’s hands

x

I suppose an earthquake

Might mean

That something is slipping through

The fingers,

A flood might mean

Too many tears

x

The birds might carry news

Carried by the wind,

Another agency

x

They hear the talking

In the trees

And what stones say

Between buildings

Some shining,

Some in ruins

x

I guess there are words

From all over Earth

While the moon

Sings in response

And the stars

Oscillate their notes as well

For any

Who are listening

x

Let those who hear,

May—not

With ears

But with supernal apparatus

That repression

Or suppression might affect

But is with us, still

Too deep, perhaps

Though there is

A law of freedom

That

I’ve heard about

x

C L Couch

x

x

“How They Carried the Good News from Ghent to Aix” is a poem by Robert Browning.

x

Photo by Christine Benton on Unsplash

At a gymkhana show in Warner Springs. These two make a formidable duo, galloping across the arena and then coming to a sliding stop to make a sharp turn around a pole (out of range to the left). They take my breath away.

x

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑