Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Lawrence Hall

                                  The Narthex as a Barricade

I have become a greeter in my old age
(Why is that pickup truck circling the parking lot?)
How good to see you! What happy children you have!
(Any bulges in that unknown man’s pockets?)

The Altar servers are in place for the processional
(Why is that man just sitting in that car?)
The lector gives everyone a word of welcome
(Pssst – do you know that guy sitting in the back?)

I open doors and hand out bulletins
And watch
Living in a third-world nation.
Lawrence Hall

                                             To Please Her Man

She underwent the stomach-stapling knife
To please her man, to tighten her tummy and cheeks
While in recovery she bled out her life
He married his girlfriend within a few weeks
Lawrence Hall

                                    T­he Pale Lady of the Well

I am mostly English, which is now uncool
And my soupcon of West African genes
Along with a whiff of Russia and First Nations
Protest Northumbria and East Anglia

But when outside at dusk with poetry and pipe
And a whisper of single-malt offered to the earth
Sometimes I seem to see visions proper to a Celt
And hear soft songs from the dawn of time

How is it that an Englishman can still
Sense the White Lady near the well at dusk
Lawrence Hall

                                       At Noon, After Mowing

I sat in the shade and mended a hose
A water hose whose fittings had parted ways
And on the grass some mockingbirds and jays
Argued and shrilled – but why? Nobody knows

I cut away the plastic (hecho en China)
And fitted brass (hecho en Mexico)
For repairs that is the best way to go
To make a hose secure – what could be finer?

And what could be finer than to sit a while
In the dreaming shade? Yes, that’s my style!
Lawrence Hall

                                     ­   The Lawnmower Man

He came at last, with pickup truck and tools
And for some two hours there was hammering:
Bang! Bang! Bang! Clang! Bang! Clang! Bang! Clang! Bang! (Dang!)
(Dang!) Bang! Bang! Bang! Clang! Bang! Clang! Bang! Clang! Bang!

And then he went to the store for a bigger hammer:
Bang! Bang! Bang! Clang! Bang! Clang! Bang! Clang! Bang! (Dang!)
(Dang!) Bang! Bang! Bang! Clang! Bang! Clang! Bang! Clang! Bang!
Bang! Bang! Bang! Clang! Bang! Clang! Bang! Clang! Bang! (Dang!

Heat, humidity, grease, the wrong wrench
The grease gun’s empty, the wrong hex key
Dead battery, no brake spring, maybe next week

The evening was concluded with a lecture
On the infallibility of Donald Trump
(In the event the mower runs just fine now.)
Lawrence Hall

                        We Know Where You RINO Traitors Live

Some Christians by a newer word seem to abide:
For they preach Trump, and Him crucified
As Charles Spurgeon did not say.
Lawrence Hall

                    The Morning Radio Guy Turns Himself Off

He was much of my mornings for years
His news, his jokes, his notes, his anecdotes
His affirmation of the goodness of man
Began each day with good humor and wit

But now he brandishes the radio waves
Like an old man threatening with his cane
By-Godding both the future and the past
Trapped forever in a 6th of January

Poor man! All he does now is scorn and scoff -
It’s like he’s turned his own radio off
Next page