*******.
and i even think
that by acknowledging i
can’t remember,

i have remembered.

i can get on board with this color palette, i suppose, but only briefly.
for a moment today
the trees glowed orange
   and red and yellow in the gold light
   and my breath caught,
   (it really did)
   but only for a second
because i don’t like the green
mixed in.

i like my reds and yellows
in the sky where they belong
at dusk sometimes
on beaches

and where the water is blue
and the sand
is white

the smell of leaves
is the smell of death,
in a way.

i prefer clean palettes,
and no sane person
goes around putting
  orange and green together,
   i’m just sayin’.

The cry of an eagle floats across a distant peak
  bear tracks visible in the spring thawing snow

Sunlight, spreading its dance upon the land
  the Ponderosa Pine and Aspen in bloom

The glaciers look down smiling the higher you climb
  searching for that redemption never offered below

The wolf trails the hare back inside its snowy den
  the road to all new entry having now been cleared

Permission never asked for, granted, as the music starts
  it’s early May in the Rockies—the January of renewal

In a celebration of new life, flowers wrap the landscape like ribbon
  tying close the promises like good wishes on a Christmas morning

It’s springtime even on the highest peak, and old questions lost of meaning now seem gone away...

Until reborn in the arrival of yet another desperate beginning
  —holding nothing back

(Columbia Falls, Montana: September, 2003)

After Midnight
The narcissists fall
After Midnight
A new lyric calls

After Midnight
Last bugle to blow
After Midnight
There’s more left to know

After Midnight
The lizards collect
After Midnight
Old tales to reflect

After Midnight
The ticking will stop
After Midnight
The bottom will top

After Midnight
A cancerous tome
After Midnight
Malignancy known

After Midnight
Betray and deceive
After Midnight
Alone in the siege

After Midnight
All footsteps fall deaf
After Midnight
Lost palates are cleft

After Midnight
New story to front
After Midnight
Two stars for the dunce

After Midnight
The comets rebel
After Midnight
The coroners yell

After Midnight
A suit made of steel
After Midnight
Its melting reveals

After Midnight
That voice in the back
After Midnight
There’s no turning back

After Midnight
A sacred oath sworn
After Midnight
All memory forlorn

After Midnight
The wheels bend and churn
After Midnight
Lost vision returns

After Midnight
False birth is stillborn
After Midnight
Old vestments are torn

After Midnight
The here and the now
After Midnight
That one sacred cow

After Midnight
Past-Future unseen
After Midnight
  —creation redeemed

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

Sleeping with the Muse,
  my nights have grown short

Sleeping with the Muse,
  my spirit comports

Sleeping with the Muse
  words dance with delight

Sleeping with the Muse
  confronting my fright

Sleeping with the Muse
  her will tests again

Sleeping with the Muse
  not lover nor friend

Sleeping with the Muse
  my dreams sacrifice

Sleeping with the Muse
  all rest put on ice

Sleeping with the Muse
  the whispers come clean

Sleeping with the Muse
  excuses demeaned

Sleeping with the Muse,
  my spool is respun

Sleeping with the Muse
  divorced from the sun

Sleeping with the Muse
  in darkness I learn

Sleeping with the Muse
  the day will confirm

Sleeping with the Muse
  till dawn’s freeing light

Sleeping with the Muse
  —new words to take flight

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                            Not Even the Paralytic’s Bed

We cannot crawl under our beds and hide
As much as we might want to disappear into
That dark, safe world of dust ***** and lost toys
And the chewed-up paper the dog hides there

We cannot hide under the covers with Bunny
As in our childhood days; we must instead
Stand up and guard our children against a world
That has lost its capability for love

We must neither crawl nor hide nor fail to love:
“Arise, let us be going…”


(St. Matthew 9:6 and 26:46)

Your left knee is arthritic,
Your spine is warping too
Your reactions aren’t so quick
And you’re often in the loo,
But we cannot help you
Your time is simply due.
It’s normal for your age.

Your skin’s become quite dry
As well as your nether parts
Your outfit isn’t fly
And you’re far more prone to farts
But it’s been written in the cards
It’s been sung by many bards
It’s normal for your age.

You tell me it’s an illness
And you want it treated fast
I’m afraid it’s your willfulness
You weren’t designed to last
The diagnosis is that your youth is in the past
We won’t treat your condition; the die’s already cast.
It’s normal for your age.