I’m Taking My Break

(x = space)

x

x

I’m Taking My Break

x

The haunting rises from

The coffee cup

When the liquid’s hot

Enough,

Aided by the air

That might be just-right cool

x

A spell upon the world

Not cast by anyone

Not by un-sentient machines

Or by any eldritch

Part

Of us

x

Like morning fog

There’s beauty in the vagueness

Indefinition

Wonder, too, as we look

Through

To the same as ever

And it’s not the same

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Ayaneshu Bhardwaj on Unsplash

x

There’s a Story at the End

(x = space)

x

x

There’s a Story at the End

x

I don’t know what to say.

I need the birds to

dance across the

page

with their feet dipped in ink.

It’s a medieval riddle’s

answer,

though it would be cruel

to force birds’ feet

into wells.

x

I guess we take their feathers,

turn them into quills;

maybe we could wait

to find quills

inside forests:

gifts from the sources of stories

and the desert

and the sky

and moving waters

taking the shape

of earth below.

That’s what I want to tell,

a story!

Something for everyone.  And

is there such a thing?

x

Once there was a child

in a forest

Who came upon a grown-up

clearly starving.

The child gave the grown-up

the only piece of

bread

in the child’s bag.

The adult rose up and thanked

the child.

Then they noticed that

the child’s bag

had a hole through which

crumbs had fallen—and through

forest-magic

had not been eaten

by birds or other creatures!

x

They knew certainly where the

crumbs

would take them,

so they went home

where everyone was

known,

because everyone was

home.

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Jan Kopřiva on Unsplash

x

Missing Magic

(x = space)

x

x

Missing Magic

x

Well, that was a clutter

Messages, groceries by the door

Coffeemaker, toaster

Mail

And nearly all of it

I slept through

Catching the final beep

From the phone

Signaling that

So many things had happened

In my Prufrock world

I don’t have a peach

And the part is in the middle

I’ve only heard the mermaid sing

In the Disney movie

But there is color outside

And cool air to breathe

x

And I shall go

Not

To strive or find

Yes, not

To yield

I doubt there will be a grail,

Either

Or a dragon

And if a dragon, we should

Become acquainted

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Artiom Vallat on Unsplash

x

Practical Lack of Magic

(x = space)

x

x

Practical Lack of Magic

x

I am tired

With a blanket ‘round me

Wishing for

Some writing

That would serve

The quiet, sobbing Earth

x

The moon

And Mars

That shake for prospects,

Having heard

That we are coming

With agendas

And mechanical persistence

x

The moon’s already scarred

Not that we

Shouldn’t go

But have a care

At least

For places that so far

Have gone untouched

x

Mystery

Romance of the unknown

Once resolved,

What we will see

When look up

Is practical

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Forest Katsch on Unsplash

South Padre Island, TX, USA

Starship SN8 lifts off from SpaceX’s South Texas facility in Cameron County.

x

The Magician’s Children

(x = space)

x

x

The Magician’s Children

(Christmas 2020)

x

It’s a magic time

The animals will talk at midnight

x

Light of many colors

Will shine inside and outside

Of hours

And tall buildings in the city

x

People who don’t believe

Will be quiet for a while

Almost in honor of the child

x

Christmas might be

A chore for them,

But they take the quiet anyway,

Until the noises of the morning

In the household begin

x

And there are those who will be quiet

Because they are the only ones,

Each one in a home of sorts

To bring in the day

On one’s own

x

Each one has a job

To send out the peace

Just beyond, until the next one

Take it,

Send it out in thought or feeling

Or a prayer

x

Others will be so busy

But the lonely could do this

x

Create a spirit-band across the world

Through many places,

Many nations,

Many destinations

That can’t be reached yet

x

Someday, perhaps

When we have enough health,

Enough determination,

Enough interest in the risk

x

Merry Christmas to each one

And from each to everyone

Live in peace for a day

And remember that a day

Can be an age

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Daniil Silantev on Unsplash

Ozero Turgoyak, Челябинская область, Россия

Ice on the Lake Turgoyak

x

Storied Creatures

(x = space)

x

x

Storied Creatures

(story people)

x

Elves could come

At night

And cobble me some

Shoes;

Maybe a storied dwarf could spin

Some straw (maybe

the recyclables)

Into gold–

And since I know the name,

We’d keep

A healthy distance

x

The kraken could rage at

All the red tide

In the bay;

A dragon could riddle me

For treasure

(I could offer books

in which these

serpents with wings and other vanities

appear to

good effect)

x

A dryad could point out

Poison ivy

While I walk, while

A sibling naiad

Translate calls from frogs at ponds

For me, because

I’d rather be an ally than

A foe

x

I’d like to know the spirits

From the stories

Even though there’s eldritch strength

With talent, which I

Could never touch

Or could be

Burned by

Since these creatures are magic

And their skills,

While we are mortal and

With what we do

x

But, oh, the draw of living out

Some lifetimes

As these supernal creatures

Are supposed to live

(and if so,

then they must live

even if in tragedy of feeling

or of fate)

x

But let’s say in the meantime

We tell all the stories

Though

Their foundation be–

Maybe the key to knowing them be–

Separation

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Patrick Hendry on Unsplash

x

Giving Way

 

Giving Away

 

A Christian

Wrote a magic book

Don’t ostracize him for it—

Too late, too many

Praise the work

And the worker

And, yes, in the larger family

 

You might know who I mean

You might know what I mean

It’s everywhere, nowadays

Though the worker

Was confused by

Popularity

 

He was used to saying

What he wondered anyone might

Want to hear

Though it was all required at the school

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Unsplash

 

Dear Santa Claus,

Dear Santa Claus,

(not a child’s letter)

 

I believe in you

All the yous

We’ve owned some magic

From the original story

Though I try to keep

The faith from that one,

Too

We wish, don’t we?

We wish like another saint

That all be well

She has more faith than I,

Claiming that

“All shall be well”

But I have hope

I don’t have much to ask

This year except for

Reading glasses, extra-large socks

(they feel better)

Maybe, maybe a new winter

Coat—in these parts, it does get cold

Wait, how boring is my list?

Each day bears its own need for wishes

I can take part in these

If my list should go beyond

Then

I can ask for love, romantic and

Erotic (yes, at my age)

Though really

The kind that keeps

Not only on a shelf (in case I should

apologize for all the elves)

But on both sides

Of the doors

Of the human hearts

Involved

So I’ll close, dear Santa Claus

Thanking you for Sandy Paws

And all the softer

And the harder things that

I must keep for Christmas

Trying for year-‘round

With love

And respect,

Robin

 

C L Couch

 

A Note on Names

 

Robin

Is a nickname

For Christopher,

Hood, or Goodfellow

I’d choose Topper second

But neither name of these names counts

The rules say nicknames

Can’t be self-selected

(though Lewis somehow decided on

“Jack” and got to keep it),

Rather gained, for better or worse,

At home or on the playground

By good fellows

(male and female)

 

Or maybe, maybe in a hundred-acre wood

When we were

Very young

 

Image by TanteTati from Pixabay

 

(image above) Vincent Guth on Unsplash

Mývatn, Iceland

Iceland lake, Northern Lights

 

Page One

Page One

 

Fluff

Good for pillows

Not so good for writing

Aspiring toward substance

Sometimes it’s fluffy

The time, a portion

An interaction

Did I ever have a cat named

Fluffy? I don’t think so

Fluff is not the magic dragon

 

And now I think on it,

Is there any other kind?

Fly, dragon

Take me with you, please

(be courteous to dragons)

Into your magic

 

C L Couch

 

 

MyName (AllenS) – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4021075

Story Book Wall at Alamogordo (New Mexico) Public Library, outside the Children’s Library. Dedicated May 1963. Local schoolchildren drew illustrations for their favorite story books and these were transferred to ceramic tiles and baked on.