I talk you talk we'll talk



Isn’t It Romantic

(x = space)



Isn’t It Romantic


Moving shadows write the oldest magic word.


Isn’t it romantic

All the snow

Pristine on tops of cars

That shouldn’t have to

Move just yet



Half undone

While scraping shovels

Focused machines

Work on the rest


And isn’t it delightful

A snow day

Begging us to stop

Like toys

Wind up to unwind

For an hour

Of contemplation

Reading something new

Or press

Against a favorite

Page or person


There are those

Addressing danger

They are blessed

And we should help them


The stolen hour is done

When we return

To epiphany

Of ordinary time


C L Couch



“Isn’t It Romantic”

Richard Rogers, Lorenz Hart


Photo by Maddy Baker on Unsplash

Northville, United States



(x = space)





I told my students,

Not so many pronouns

Making sure the subject is at hand

And it agrees

Not for the writer’s sake

But for mine

And any readers—

Say, a boss

Or those who must approve

The presentation with

The recommendation


Yet here I am, often

Making a mystery of it

I want you to work a little


To track the subjects

And to understand

How often they are intertwined,

And that’s real


We have antecedents, too

Those who came before

And sometimes it’s a mystery

That we work out

With records and with words

To have something

Of a story

The genealogists with


And best-guessing

Giving answers so the rest of us move

On in the present


Where we come from

Is Earth

In a gorge that was a garden

In a crescent

By three rivers

It’s a story and a good one

Whether Genesis or

The Silmarillion

Or Gilgamesh or

Theogony (when he believed)

Or Metamorphoses (when he did not)

Or the God

Who placed a hand down from the sky

To Earth

To spread the plains and, around the edges,

All the mountains

Or one who came up from below

Closer to the ground

And loving it

Did make mortals when going below

Was needed

To sort out all the hot things there

(I made this last one up)


But all (real) depictions

Seem to contain a fall

Divinity or demons

Or our bad choices

They all live with us

(divinity, demons, choices)

Not only for the Calvinists

But as a reason

For the failures in a day

In an hour of time

Under the sun

Or in the argent light of moon

Wherever we trip,

Try to right ourselves

To dance again


C L Couch



Photo by Matt Nelson on Unsplash

Vonore, United States




A Christmas show

Is on TV

I’m not sure how I found it

Usually, TV is background noise

For my tinnitus

So I may concentrate

On something else

Christmas at the start of June

Well, why not

There is no pressure,


No shopping list or

Finding ways to keep up decorations

Six more months

Plenty of time

To forget there is a list

Or lights or fasteners

Once, I heard advice

From a priest

Who in his preaching said

Leave something up from Christmas

One thing

It will drive your neighbors crazy

Well, it’s not Christmas

I have nothing up or under

This is this accident of broadcasting

For an hour,

Then everything resumes

Sixty minutes, red and green

In my culture

You might have Père Noël

Or Father C

Or Sinterklaas

Or a name with a persona

I have yet to learn

I’d better say Merry Christmas now

The episode is ending

I said it

I hope you heard


C L Couch



Photo by Andy Holmes on Unsplash

Chatham, Kent, United Kingdom


Witchening Hour

Witchening Hour


When it’s the midnight hour

On Hallowe’en

Nothing, it’s simply the start of

Another hour

I want witches to appear

And magic manifest

Strange lights and an open doorway

Never there before

An hour for the ghosts to dance

While all of us in costume now


The thinness torn

Between two worlds

Maybe mortal folk can

Sashay with the eldritch


The thing is that

It might not be terrifying

Simply extraordinary

Occult as in unknown alone

Conjuring an honest gathering

For all of us

To bear an hour


C L Couch



Image by joseph_Berardi from Pixabay


Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑