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Lawrence Hall Feb 10
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                           Just Another Smug Football Recusant

Last night at dusk I admired the brightening stars
And before going inside put the gate on the latch
While saying goodnight to the Moon, Jupiter, and Mars
(Someone said something about a football match?)
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                    Exposition Kills Poetry

Poem:

Most exposition is an imposition
Like the supervisor who shadows you
Babbling incessantly needless admonition
Blocking your work so that nothing gets through

Respect your verse, how it dreams, how it flows
Your poetry is your will, your work, your way
But if you choose to explain it in prose
Your verse is left with nothing at all to say

Your poem is in itself your exhibition
Of art – so ditch the cluttery exposition

Exposition:

What I’m saying here is we shouldn't talk about our poetry because that’s talking about work instead of getting it done and if we have to explain to the reader what a poem means we’re not allowing the poem to be true to itself and so why attempt the discipline of meter, rhyme, metaphor, simile, narrative flow, and the many other elements of poesy if we’re just going to repeat in prose what the meter, rhyme, metaphor, simile, narrative flow, and the many other elements of poesy should be doing if we have crafted our work with artistry as well as imagination because exposition implies that either we don’t respect your work and our reader or that we have been deliberately obscure in our verse which in the event is pointless because a poem is itself, it is supposed to communicate an idea, a dream, a hope and not simply flounder about as a soup of disconnected words in a sort of the king’s new clothes of deception which is patronizing and not clever at all because if a reader who is reasonably well read and understands an age-appropriate catalogue of literary, cultural, historical, and artistic allusion to make connections then we have failed the reader and, worse, failed our own attempts at poetic art.
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                             Little Thoughts of God

          We are not some casual and meaningless product of
          evolution. Each of us is the result of a thought of God. Each of
          us is willed, each of us is loved, each of us is necessary.

                                     -Papa Benedict, 24 April 2005


Our children play with little toy trucks and trains
Comb Barbie’s hair and then arrange Ken’s tie
They get fussed at for pulling the puppy’s tail
They cuddle up with kittens and Winnie-the-Pooh

Our children create worlds with construction paper
Discover Narnia in a new box of crayons
They get fussed at for writing on the wall
They squirm in church; they tickle Daddy’s beard

Our children love their chapter books (and us!)
“Is this a picture of a pirate ship?”
They get fussed at for asking soooooo many questions
“Daddy, will you read us a story now?”

Dear Lord –

Let our children grow up and make us proud

Dear Lord –

Let our children grow up
In 2022 firearms accounted for 30% of deaths in children 1 to 17

-Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Health
Annual Firearm Violence Data | Center for Gun Violence Solutions
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                      Pirates to Starboard next to the Dairy Cows!

My neighbors’ field is low; it tends to flood
Their children sail their kayak as pirates bold
And laugh and splash upon the sloshy mud
Swallows and Amazons in search of gold

Most comfortable with our feet propped up
We old folks sit upon the porch all dry
Each an admiral with his coffee cup
And let the heavy monsoon pass us by

We too were pirates in our dreaming youth
We wish we still were – and that’s the truth!
Allusion to SWALLOWS AND AMAZONS
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                 On a Morning of Sunlit Frost


                       The greatest adventure is what lies ahead

          -Laws / Bass / Yarborough for the 1977 film of The Hobbit


I dream of a morning of sunlit frost
An early October morning, the sun just up
At the end of the lane I make a left
Then left again on the high road north

I won’t look back at either turning
I won’t look back
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                    A Dachshund Dreaming of Rabbit for Supper

My little Luna-Dog has a bad habit
Of chasing after her back-yard rabbit

But still let not your mind be troubled or fraught
With fear for that rabbit who is never caught!
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                Jim Croce and a Rainy Morning

When the plane went down that was the end
Of telephone operators and bottles of time
But the electronics are kind enough to send
Good memories of when coffee was a dime

You really could mess around with Jim
If you knew your way around a chord
And heard his lyrics as a workman’s hymn
That spoke of art offered to the Lord

He gave us good thoughts through his guitar’s strum -
And, yeah, a wild moustache to back away from!
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