The Conditions of the Prophet

(x = space)

x

x

The Conditions of the Prophet

x

What shall God say today?

Not to me

I am not a vessel

Until God doesn’t mind the cracks

And grime

Under the rim

And maybe not:

Maybe God calls on us

To call

Who are not unblemished alabaster

Uncracked

Ancient yet young

To appreciate

x

Well, there are no museums here

Not inside the person

If there is a purpose

And I’m told

Rather explicitly,

I’ll follow

Though there are conditions

x

I can’t be crazy

Or made crazy

There must be gentle tones allowed

Simplicity

Would be instructive

While dignity

Would be grand

x

If these can be traits

In a manifesto

Then I’ll call it

x

And if these traits

Cannot be followed, well,

I’ll follow

Share the word

With the same conviction

Sigh,

No conditions

And apologizing for

Conditions

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Bruno van der Kraan on Unsplash

x

LoveSpeak

(x = speak)

x

x

LoveSpeak

x

What does God’s love say

In the face of danger?

Through many dangers,

Toils, and snares

God’s love says

I’m here

The love is here

The source is here

The host is here

We’re here

x

Though there be anger,

Scorn, and fear

From enemies and friends

Alike

Because doubt and unbelief

Might have to have

Their way,

The love of God is first

And follows

Like the currents inside Earth

And over,

The moving pillars

Cloud or fire

That are before

And after

x

Alongside in

The truth of companionship

But I can’t see that

You can

It’s more than senses

With which we perceive

As best we can

x

Presence and love are better

They are inside

And out

They speak without words

Until it’s time for words

x

When we have ears to hear

And cannot hear,

Count on the company

Of the divine

To know us better,

Pick us up

If fallen,

Go with us onward

Leading, should we ask

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

x

“Amazing Grace” (the hymn) referenced above

x

Left Words

(x = words)

x

x

Left Words

x

I look at another

Blank page,

Which is all right

There’s something down

Already,

Already stained with

Letters

x

One letter by one

Formed into words

Making a shape on

The page

Out of many shapes

(sanserif)

x

Once I read a

Single poem that

Trailed along the left

Side of the page

With a lack

Of syntax but

Replete with

Meaning, nonetheless

I could tell

x

The letters were sizable

And the name on top

Was famous

x

And that’s how

It’s done,

I supposed

It appears in

Someone else’s book

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Gary Butterfield on Unsplash

Howard Hotel, 57 Howard St, Sheffield S1 2LW, UK, South Yorkshire, United Kingdom

x

The Loft

(x = space)

x

x

The Loft

x

If quiet into night

I send a word or two words

Or more

Through breath,

Then you might hear me

So that we might turn, at last,

Toward each other

x

I’d say all prayers are done

Except the kind that praise

And ask for nothing else

x

C L Couch

x

x

湖州市, 湖州市, 中国

Night View Mountain

x

Wording

(x = space)

x

x

Wording

x

Magic in words

A phrase I’m sure that has been said

In many times and places

Media

Many languages

x

For it must seem that way

The way words can turn things

I suppose like many things

They have no value

Until applied

Character in the one

Who speaks or writes

Agenda, too

An open one shows fortitude

The hidden one a kind of cowardice

x

They can start wars

In fact, we have to say

They are declared

Then words are needed, after

In treating peace

x

There is so much more to say

Your turn

Use your words

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Damon Lam on Unsplash

x

“The Rape of the Lock”

(x = space)

x

x

“The Rape of the Lock”

x

Is a poem-story

About a theft of hair

(a basis for satire)

From times when

“Rape” meant abduction

(bad enough, though

if you know

The Fantastiks, then

you know)

x

Even so, not a good

Word, made worse by

The way we use it

Now—given charge

And change

With reason

Words have power,

Don’t they?  Sometimes

More than action: try

Proclaiming “dictator”

Inside democracy

(listen to the only

speech in Chaplin’s

The Great Dictator)

Or cry “freedom” inside

Tyranny

x

Then there’s

“Joy” in a

Cheerless place,

Challenging the time

Another way

x

Have a gentle day

And mind (and mine)

Your choice of words, and

Take comfort from

The people with whom

You don’t have to

Fret so much

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Kristian Strand on Unsplash

New York, United States

Type

x

Lessons

Lessons

 

Simple, elegant verse about God

Jesus loves me, this I know

For the Bible tells me so

But I want it on my own, from my

Own words and thoughts and sentiments

The strings of my soul

The lines that go from me to you

That must be played

That must be worked

That must be played

 

C L Couch

 

 

sculpture at the EMP Museum in Seattle, Washington

Alex Hendricks – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=39290671

 

Recommend

Recommend

 

Bittersweet

We make words that work

The Anglo-Saxon hoard

That was the dictionary

And all the other contributions from

All languages

Language cannot be its own end, I guess

Yet there are beautiful words

That are lost each day

Because the group has gone

Or, sad to say, been subsumed

Our words don’t come with protections

We could use all kinds

If it were a law to think before they’re uttered

Beyond the autonomic

Well, there’s not

We are not oppressors

Not all of us

Not yet

We can’t have a rule that says

Everything must be approved

We only have the inner voice

That speaks to fast for words

Because that’s how ir works

On the inside

 

So that with which to regulate is

Strapped with nervous speed

Adrenaline is good

And it’s hard

Speaking well is good,

Which is not about articulation

It’s about discretion

The better part

Of something

 

Unironically, if we could only pause

But I cannot make that happen

Nor would I want to

Yes, I would

But it would be so easy to hamfist it

To make a break with tension

A legality

Then we’d need freedom fighters for

Release from word-overlords

 

Whew,

Let’s simply take advice

Don’t kill the voice with alcohol

I know that doesn’t work

But listen for that voice that goes by too fast

Pull some seconds out

Stop in order to choose something better

Something good

Maybe wise

To say

 

C L Couch

 

 

By Man vyi – <span class=”int-own-work”>Self-photographed</span>, Public Domain, <a href=”https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=20208143″>Link</a&gt;

Hauteville House – Victor Hugo’s copy of George Métivier’s Dictionnaire Franco-Normand

 

Inking

Inking

(Advent, anytime)

 

I’m tired, and it’s raining

Rainy days are interesting

I like them

As long as they don’t go too far

The sun holds back, because

The clouds have asked them to

And far below, we dodge

The drops or surrender

To umbrella lids, rubber shoulders,

Or wet heads

It drops like verse upon the page

And we are drenched, then, in another way

Which is all right, I hope

One can’t catch cold from rained upon with words

 

I’m trusting

Virus has become interchangeable

Maybe colds can jump forms, too,

And meanings

 

There was a word made flesh

We killed that flesh, but

It walked among us whole (wholer),

At last

Then went away

To return another time

We fear that time and market it

It will come, anyway

And is said to be a glory

 

Let’s not fear our words so much, then

For like the word that died and

Will return

That is with us now

There is inherent resurrection quality

(aspect and excellence)

In what we can say,

In what we like to think

Especially in a season of hope

 

What might be heard

Might change us

In needful and saving ways

On rainy days

Forever

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Caroline Grondin on Unsplash