three poems about light

by C L Couch



The Light We Make


White lights

Illuminate too much

I don’t like them

In headlights or in overhead neon,


Where is the dawn

That softly cascades on all

Things below

If it’s an emergency,

That’s one thing

But for day-to-day, why

Can’t we have gold

Freely delivered from

Heaven’s treasure

Or more homely manufacturing?


Better the dawn, I think,

For inspiration

A glimpse of visioning like


A reason at the start of day




Galadriel Comes to Rivendell

(a Middle-Earth lyric)


In a penultimate age

Galadriel comes to Rivendell

To toast with Elrond

A Elbereth Gilthoniel

Whom shell they be meeting soon

On the first shore

Of unending

Once upon a timeless time

And everlasting


Well done, the half-elf declares

I knew you were hiding by

The gate

Hidden by my host, she corrects

They would not bear

To evidence my presence

So far from the

Golden wood of home

Where, alas, Celeborn remains


But ready, comes the declaration

From the host, back to the

Final battle,

Always ready, and she smiles


All our allies had not yet


I would have gone to them


You would have commended

Or commanded all of us there,

I wonder


I would not have said a



The authority of your magic

Is the message

In elvish silence


Even better, I think?

She sipped


And so they talked, old friends

As much as majesty and crusade allow

While the night inside faded

Outside a new day already


That would no longer know them

Might they leave


Yet a hint of Hollin

Goodness might remain

Where they once passed


[all the rest is benediction and epilogue]


So their time

Our time

An age between

Rises at dawn

Under a yellow, mortal sun

No longer blessed

By characters

And presence


A benediction before

They leave

All doors open wide

To welcome gratitude

Or rudeness

Mortals’ choice


An eagle’s blessing

Then all the keepers of blue flame

And light we cannot bear

Are gone






The lights of heaven

Are too much for me

I cannot manage

Pure light that has other



I need light gobos through wisping clouds

And trees,

Dressed in motley by

All earthly forms and shadows


In the shade

Is fine for me

Though not in formless dark,



Readiness for paradise

Means new lenses, I suppose

Like focusing kaleidoscopes

Or tracing light through prisms

I will adjust

Or be adjusted

By perfect agencies



Who see all clear

For ages, now

So will you

So will I