Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

                     Will the Plowed Boys Find Love in the End?

Romantic robots could bring peace to our streets -
The Plowed Boys would have something to ******
Other than their idle trifles and bang-bang rifles
For in the end they would have dates after all

And will they wear

Their he-man soldier suits and bug-eyed shades
Their he-man soldier toys dangling from carabiners
Their radios and whistles and lip-dangling ciggies

while in bed?

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                 Joining the Class Struggle

                              “Yuri, what splendid words!”

                                  -Anna in Doctor Zhivago

Lift high the red banner, comrades and comradettes!
Lift high the made-in-China bullhorns against the rich
Make crudely misspelt signs and block the streets
(How dare the workers work while we’re yelling at them)

Pull down the statue of St. Joan of Arc!
Because she was, like, you know, a Confederate general
And smash the windows of the corporate coffee shops
(Make mine a decolonized double decaf)

Liberate the people’s goods! To arms! To arms!
(But who will stay behind to work the farms?)

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                       Toys at the Base of an Oak Tree

            “We'll be Friends Forever, won't we, Pooh?” asked Piglet.
            “Even longer,” Pooh answered.

                                                    - A. A. Milne

You find them at the base of a tree sometimes:
A pewter knight or a plastic Robin Hood
Or a marble lost in the long-ago
Turned up among the weeds by shifting roots

In the leafy silences of summer a little boy
Practiced the arts of magic and manliness
With Robin Hood and the pewter knight searching for a jewel
To present to their Lady Marian

When he was a little older the boy walked to town
To the bus station, and off to a distant war
A jewel sacrificed to the blasphemy of the State
You’ll find his name at the base of a stone

But the pewter knight and the plastic Robin Hood
And beautiful Lady Marian still wait for him

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                Even the Oak Trees are Dying

              “Wildfire…evacuation of nearby residences under way”

                                               -news bulletin

Poor drought-dead leaves in mockery of autumn
Wind-rustle across the lawn as the dried husks they are
Rattling like withered exoskeletons along the dust
Or The Ancient Mariner’s dead sailors upon the deck

The exhausted earth is hot from a summer of drought
Cicadas have no hope in their poor songs
A drifting dragonfly wobbles in its flight
And the weather reports are but cruel teasings

The sour smoke of a month of forest fires
Chokes even the stars, who in despair do not appear

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                         Another Funeral in Margaritaville


                                      Introibo ad altare Dei.

                    Ad Deum qui laetificat juventutem meum.

                                         -Missale Romanum


Of course all our friends are dying away
Old age sneaks up on us, ghosting us in turn:
Yevgeny, Jimmy, Dusty, Judith, Rod, and we
Who blessed each other in our happy youth

But I tell you we have a duty to sing our songs
Our perhaps artless lines lost long ago
Except that they’re not: we gave them to God
And He joined them to Creation for all of us

Of course all our friends are dying away
Except that they’re not
                                        See you in Margaritaville

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                  Shelving Children Instead of Books

                        “…it is estimated that Germany…destroyed
                          over 100 million books in Europe.”

             -Molly Guptill Manning, When Books Went to War, xv

In Texas

We ban children’s books
We don’t ban guns;
And thus we discard
Our daughters and sons

HISD to eliminate librarians, turn some libraries into discipline centers at 28 campuses (click2houston.com)

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                 A Cat is Stillness in Motion

                                              For Tuxedo-Cat
                               Who Simply Moved in One Day

There is no stillness like a cat
To the laws of physics a stillness unknown
When all is still he is stiller still
Even stiller than a stick or stone

There is no motion like a cat
A silent slink upon delicate paws
A smoke-like current now still again
To eye a chameleon
                                                                ­       and sharpen his claws

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                              The Gift of a Fountain Pen

                                               For Max

A fountain pen is an instrument of civilization
Its flow of ink explores the mysteries
Of all the sciences, the mind, the heart
Sorting out the good, the beautiful, the true

A fountain pen is an instrument of civilization
Through creativity, with thought and craft
Marking the line between good order and ferality
Limning the eternal romance of Creation

A fountain pen is an instrument of civilization –
(It’s also pretty good for shopping lists)

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                             Did You Grow Up in a Palace Too?

                               In Memory of the Palace Theatre

If you were fortunate you grew up in a palace
A Technicolor palace where Robin Hood
Saved England for only twenty-five cents
And the royal feast was popcorn and RC Cola

If you were fortunate you grew up in a palace
Which was so big that the Comanche Nation
Could encircle both a fort and a wagon train
And a candy bar was chuck-wagon stew

If you were fortunate you grew up in a palace
And softly, sweetly found another’s hand
As the cowboys and Indians rode away in peace -
There was a newer magic for you to discover

If you were fortunate you grew up in a palace
In the summertime of your happy youth

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                            They Make Patriotism a ***** Word

                  “…Devil with Devil ****’d / Firm concord holds…”

                                   -Paradise Lost II, 496-497

How did they make patriotism a ***** word?
A conjuring not of loyalty or love
But rather foul images of bloated men
In bug-eyed shades, knee pants, and slogan tees

                    Cradling their guns in flabby tatted arms

Why did they make patriotism a ***** word?
No consideration of what is best for the nation
But rather foul images of treacherous men
In tailored suits and subtle imported ties

                    Cradling their contempt in Pandaemonian cant

The Q, the X, mechanical law degrees –
Devil with devil ****’d firm concord holds

                    Cradling their proud disobedience before God

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com


                                     August is a Yellow Flame


                          “That August was like a yellow flame”

                    Anna Ahkmatova, 1917 / Anno Domini MCMXXI /
                                       III. The Voice of Memory


This August is indeed like a yellow flame
Death writhes among brown-burnt withering leaves
The grass is as sere as Macbeth’s acrid soul
And garden hoses drip in futility

The sun-bleached visage of Ozymandias
Might frown upon this blighted desert wrack
For not unlike the Ancient Mariner’s ghostly crew
The usages of summer drop and decay

But look!

But look above the last barren clouds in the west -
A tiny sliver of the promising moon

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                           The Bronze Serpent

Moses established a serpent within the camp
A fiery brazen serpent upon a pole
And all who looked upon it were thereby cured
Cured of their judgments slithering through the dust

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

          One Judge, Two Sheriff’s Deputies, and Five Police Officers
                                 Take on a 98-Year-Old Woman

                                         “Try that in a small town”

The 11th of August was neither the beginning nor the end
Of sheltering the Constitution from thugs
Some in judicial robes, some in dark uniforms
When Joan Meyer stood
                    between them and us

A newsroom pillaged by judicial fiat
Private homes looted by armed bully-boys
Ordered by a heartless magistrate
When Joan Meyer stood
                    between them and us

When Joan Meyer died
                    between them and us

Raid on Kansas newspaper is an intolerable overreach by police | Editorial (yahoo.com)

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                  What Did Jesus Look Like?

What did Jesus look like when He was on earth?
He looks just like the boy or man you’ll meet next

What did Mary look like when she was on earth?
She looks just like the girl or woman you’ll meet next

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                             Wordle for Klingons

Let the captain win now; he is one of your betters -
Revenge is a dish best served with five letters

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                        ­The Fuel Pump Screen Queen

She’s fresh and lovely on the television screen
Promoting a recipe for a sugar-free treat
And fashion tips for being In The Scene -
Her face on the fuel pump is ever so sweet

She looks so summery in her fashion tee
As gasoline vapors waft through the air
She whispers a makeup hint only to me
And the best techniques for brushing my hair

She speaks to me so charmingly and nicely
That I forget the fuel dials spinning so pricely

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

        Gearing Up for School Which is Just Around the Corner

School is forever gearing up or winding down
And if school is not around the corner
Then summer takes that very same turn instead
With back-to-school sales beginning in June

Children wheedle their moms for the coolest sneaks
And shopping carts are heavy with pens in packs
Yellow pencils, notebooks, scissors, and glue
Construction paper, adhesive tape, tissues

Lunchboxes, paper sacks, term calendars -
While in a lonely room
A pathetic little man fondles his Glock

Unidentified Flying Obfuscations

Our Texas government plans to censor our books
                    (But look at the bright shiny UFOs)
Our newspapers are falling like autumn leaves
                    (But look at the bright shiny UFOs)

Our border is guarded by barbed wire and floaties
                    (But look at the bright shiny UFOs)
Our TV channels tell us what to think
                    (But look at the bright shiny UFOs)

Our senators are beyond their sell-by dates
                    (But look at the bright shiny UFOs)
Our representatives are puerile *****-mouths
                    (But look at the bright shiny UFOs)

Our children are shot dead in our schools and streets
                    (But Congress holds hearings on UFOs)

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                           Two Sovereign Remedies for Depression

Reading a few pages of Wodehouse at bedtime
Is like walking behind a dachshund at any time

Happiness

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

                               In Nature We are Only a Menu Item

Purporting to love nature is a commonplace
This does not mean that nature loves us back
We often look for nature’s smiling face
But nature looks for us as a tasty snack

The alligator is defended for being here first
The gentle boar is a creature of God
Anopheles wants only to quench its thirst
The innocent shark hungers only for cod

Communing with nature cannot be beaten –
Up until the moment when you are eaten!

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com


                                                  A Japanese Army Cap

                         "A fool lies here who tried to hustle the east"

                                                          -Kipling

Long, long ago in a land far away
I met some children playing on a river bank
One little boy wore a Japanese Army cap
Faded and old – I wondered who wore it first?

I tried to buy it from him - an MPC dollar?
No.
Five dollars?
No.
Ten dollars?
Laughter and another no.
Twenty good American MPC dollars?
No.

We continued our patrol up to Cambodia
And back again
I did not leave my bones in Viet-Nam
Nor even my cap  
                                            (I was a fool all the same)

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                           Jane Birkin’s Smile

Her eyes were everything when she looked at us
Teasingly, from beneath a wide-brimmed hat
In that long-ago summer world when we
Assumed for ourselves eternal youth

Her lips were everything when she smiled at us
Mischievously, from among the surprised decades
Of this cold winter world that crept upon us
Her insouciance defying the pains of age

If we misplaced our youth, our hopes, our dreams
That was all right
We found them again in her saucy grin

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com


                                   Goofus and Gallant Revisited

                                Thanks to The Atlantic Monthly

I never paid attention to Goofus and Gallant
Because I sensed that I was being preached at
Only later in life do I appreciate their talent -
Much better than the cat who sat on a mat

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                       Keyboard Combatants

                     “H* hath no fury like a non-combatant”

                -anonymous; dates as early as the American Civil War

Pitching war metaphors toward a people
Who don’t understand metaphors or war
Does not promote prudent self-government
Or peace
                 Only bullhorns and misspelt signs

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                        ­    Leaving the Party

              “You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting
                With much admired disorder.”

                             -Lady Macbeth in III.iv.109-110

The party we leave is not the party that was,
Beginning in optimism and good will
In rooms well-lit with generosity and thought -
Ideas thoughtfully spoken and thoughtfully heard

We have all left a party for fresh air
To escape from hollow laughter and cliches
From shouted arguments and whispered schemes
Half-empty glasses and sour cigarette smoke

Screamed taunts that sting, a hive-like waspish buzz -
The party we leave is not the party that was

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Hellopoetry.com­

                                              In Search of Lost Timepieces

                                            (as Marcel Proust did not say)

When clocks were electric and mechanical
They almost never agreed with each other
The glowing G.E. beside the bed read 2:00
While Mother’s kitchen pastel hummed 2:03

Dad’s Hamilton ticked 1358
(And you never argued with him about it)
Grandfather Clock chimed whenever he wanted, by cracky
And the Timex took a licking at 2:04

But now all clocks obey an electronic command –
As the old joke goes, “We have ways of making you tock.”

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Hellopoetry.com­

                                     If a Bee Stings Me

If a bee stings me, pity the poor bee
If a wasp stings me, then pity me!

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Hellopoetry.com­

                                                 A Dream About Birdcage Walk

In the perfection of an impossibility
I was tagging along behind Margaret Thatcher
And Saint Thomas More; they were speaking
Of great and transcendent ideas

I asked them if we could go to Victoria Station
And look at the trains

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                 But First There was President Grant’s Speeding Ticket

I’ve never been arrested, but, hey, I’m still young; there’s a chance.  Some of the nicest people I know have spent the occasional weekend at the county sheriff’s resort and spa, some opting for longer stays, so I wonder if I’ve been missing something.

If someday I receive a stainless steel invitation to jail I can’t imagine that a private jet and a motorcade will be part of the intake process, or that extra police and the Secret Service will escort me, or that barriers and blocked-off streets will ease my way inside to the receptionist, concierge, complimentary cocktails, a fingerprint manicure, souvenir photographs, and all the other amenities I’ve been reading about with regard to the anticipated indictment of a former president this week.

I don’t recall any stories about law officers or attorneys general sending courtesy notes to wanted men to turn themselves in, pretty please, but then I am behind the times in so many ways. Perhaps soon all arrests will be prefaced by formal courtesies:


5 April 2023

Dear Mr. Percival “Snake Eyes” Thorpe-Ponsonby,

You are cordially invited to a reception hosted by
The Sheriff and the District Attorney
At the County Courthouse on

17 April 2023
2:00 P.M.

Valet Parking
Dress: Afternoon Business Casual

RSVP

In 1872 William H. West, a D.C. city police officer, did not send then-President Ulysses Grant an invitation or a ticket-by-mail; he collared him in the streets of the Capitol for speeding in his one-horse buggy. Officer West, who was a Civil War veteran and black, is reported to have said to the President:


"I cautioned you yesterday, Mr. President, about fast driving, and you said, sir, that it would not occur again…I am very sorry, Mr. President, to have to do it, for you are the chief of the nation, and I am nothing but a policeman, but duty is duty, sir, and I will have to place you under arrest."

-Ulysses S. Grant Was Arrested 151 Years Before Trump's Indictment (businessinsider.com)

The President did not pull the ****** “Don’t you know who I am!?” thing, paid his $20 fine, and was apparently a more careful driver thereafter.

And that, dear readers, is a wonderful remembrance of one of those moments when this nation got things just right.

-30-

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Hellopoetry.com­


                   But His Airplane Features Gold Seatbelt Buckles

     Trump calls for removal of every top official investigating him
                                               -The Hill

Article II, Section 2

Before he enter the Execution of his office

“District Attorney Bragg is a danger to our Country,

He shall take the following Oath or Affirmation:-

and should be removed immediately,

“I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will

along with Radical Lunatic Bombthrower Jack Smith,

Faithfully execute the Office of President

who is harassing and intimidating innocent people

Of the United States, and will to the best

at levels not seen before, ‘Get Trump’ Letitia James,

Of my Ability preserve, protect, and defend

the worst Attorney General in the United States,

The Constitution of the United States.

and Atlanta D.A. Fani Willis, who is trying to make PERFECT phone calls into a plot to destroy America, but reigns over the most violent Crime Scene in America, and does nothing about it!

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                                                        Nguyen and Tex

The receptionist calls loudly for Nguyen
Mispronouncing the name Nuh-Goo-Yen
Which is what some Americans still do
Although the patient is an American too

Some usages we need to narrow down
Some usages we need to broaden a bit
This is a medical office waiting room
Where all may diversify on the guest wifi

An Irrelevant Consideration:

The thought occurs that calling for Nguyen in Saigon
Would be like calling for Tex in Abilene

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                  ­                     China Beach Spring Break

                             “Remember we are special guests here;
               we make no demands and seek no special treatment.”

                                -A Pocket Guide to Viet-Nam, 1969

We called it China Beach; I don’t know why
Those wonderful beaches are in Viet-Nam
But apparently no Vietnamese were allowed
Behind OUR wire, along OUR beach, OUR surf

Shabby little snack shacks and latrines
And in his shabby little tower a guard
In his striped helmet and aviator shades
Yawning through his moment in history

The beaches of Fort Lauderdale; I don’t know why -
That’s where the young go now to die

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                                                 Wake Up, Back Yard!

Wake up, back yard! The day is warm and bright
The water hoses are stiff, the nozzles are fouled
And I’m stiff too, but we are called by the morning light
To celebrate this spring-before-spring day

Brave seedlings from last year’s sunflowers arise
Among the tiny wings of zinnia buds
And the pushy skunk cabbages who hang around
Like playground bullies who ought to go find jobs

The yellow pollen teases through my nose
And everywhere this happy new year grows!

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                                Waiting for the Surgery ‘Phone Call

Waiting for that call
Like waiting for my draft notice
All those years ago

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                                           A Dead Bug in the Hospital

Recumbent on a gurney, little to do
Except to wait and think and hope and pray
Not sure where I was in the surgical queue
Above me the fluorescents, where a dead bug lay

We were both quiet, he especially so
I would have asked him how he came to rest
On a panel of plastic; I wanted to know -
He had been blinded by the light, I guessed

I thought of this as I lay in my too-short bed
“You’re in recovery now,” a kind voice said

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                           Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaask!

Three years ago I strolled into my fav café
The room grew quiet, and then a chorus did say:
Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaask!

In guilt and shame I put the forgotten object on
My sin of omission had been masked upon:
Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaask!

Two years ago I walked into that place
My now-remembered mask upon my face
Sneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer!

For politics had changed within a year
We don’t want no ****** masks in here
Sneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer!

This year between the mandates and the bans
Is it still okay if I wash my hands?

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                  ­             The Shape of a Poem, the Shape of a Life

                                     A Consideration of Robert Herrick

Yes, they are awkward, those poems written in shapes
But if God writes our lives as poetry
Limned and formed for our continuation
We ask that He shape us with clarity and charity

A line of verse is not a scattering of thoughts
Flung randomly as leaves upon the ground
But rather a thoughtful, heartful shaping of meaning
To forward life to its logical end

Yes, they are awkward, those poems written in shapes
But we are awkward, if not shaped with love

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

                              Who Has Been Eating My Chair?

                                (Which Goldilocks did not ask)

Lawn chairs are for lawn-sitting quite at our ease
Soft summer evenings with a book and a glass
With birds and squirrels chittering away
Merrily over their supper of chicken scratch

Lawn chairs are presumably not nutritious
But every morning mine has been gnawed away more
Its cotton cover shredded and ripped and torn
The puffy filler scattered all over the lawn

What creatures in the night fight, chew, and riot
To make my comfortable old chair their diet?

Lawrence Hall 3d
The Ninth Commandment 2.0
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                 ­ ­                    The Ninth Commandment 2.0

It’s on the InterGossip; it must be true
Now let us see what people are saying about you!




(This doesn't apply to me, of course. I'm special. My mother said so.)

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                 You Don’t Imagine Your Sunday School Teacher

You don’t imagine your Sunday school teacher
As a once-upon-a-time young girl
A slender young girl with flowers in her hair
Running barefoot through a summer field

To meet her other self at the edge of the trees
Where the honeysuckle vines cling to each other
You don’t imagine your Sunday school teacher
As a once-upon-a-time young girl

Except sometimes when she pauses and sighs
And her eyes look beyond the Jesus-poster walls

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                  ­                    The Ninth Commandment 2.0

It’s on the InterGossip; it must be true
Now let us see what people are saying about you!

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

         The Honorable Kevin McCarthy Recognizes Tucker Carlson

                                      And only Tucker Carlson

The First Amendment defends everyone’s views
And does not surrender the nation to Fox News

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

             Honorable Liar, Honorable Liar, Honorable Pants on Fire

If we pay attention over time
We learn about our government this jot:
Lying to Congress is a crime
Lying from Congress is not

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                        ­      Ozymandias ‘N’ Things

I met a UPS driver from an antique land
Who said – “Down the road two shopping malls
Decay along the road, on either hand
Broken doors lead into empty, echoing halls

The blown-out signs are ghostly anymore
Their electric lights are dead; the letters decay
Around the logo of each long-dead store
And in their emptiness they seem to say:

Look upon my works, ye mighty –

Sears, Radio Shack, Montgomery Ward, Mr. Pickwick, Circuit City, Bonwit Teller, Gimbel’s, Brooks Brothers, Woolworth’s, Marshall Field’s, Kresge’s, Blockbuster, Border’s, CompUSA, Sharper Image, Tower Records, Toys R Us, B. Dalton, Levitz, Waldenbooks, Thom McAn, Linens N Things, KB toys, Mervyn’s, Lord & Taylor, Joske’s

- and despair”

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                  ­               The Saturday Morning Tee-Ball Hero

                                      This one’s for you, tee-ball dads!

A little moppet scampers around the tee
Waving her plastic bat as a warrior’s sword
Or as a fairy-wand to magic the day
Her first-ever tee-ball lesson with Dad

He places the ball upon the tee; she swings –
“Now wait until Daddy takes his hand away…”
WHACK!
He didn’t know the bat was all that hard!

He rubs his hand and adjusts his cap; she laughs –
At her daddy the Saturday tee-ball hero

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                                              On the Consumption of Art

An artist writes about the consumption of art
As if a painting, a poem, a video
A statue in the lobby of the medical center
Were a tin of meatballs and spaghetti

But we do not consume a work of art
Sometimes we almost seem to marry it
Joining art in a sacrament of love
Beyond the velvet ropes of ownership

That which can be possessed can be consumed
But neither art nor love is a commodity

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                                                 Not Exactly Saint Mark

“Who do you say that I am?”

‘“Whom,’” replied the local schoolmaster.

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
Fellowshipandfairydust.com

                                                    Attitude Check

Climb down off your white horse
And sit in the shade of the trees
To drink from your canteen
A taste of humility

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Logosophiamag.c­om
Hellopoetry.com
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                                      The ‘Way-Cool Coffee Shop

                    Down in the street little eddies of wind were whirling
                    dust and torn paper into spirals, and though the sun
                    was shining and the sky a harsh blue, there seemed to
                    be no colour in anything…

                                    -George Orwell, 1984

***** windows glare out onto the parking lot
Where debris is blown by the sour winter wind
While worn-out Mardi Gras decorations
Slap against old awnings and creaking poles

The get-it-yourself coffee is cold
Every pump: the purported French Roast
Vienna Nights, Istanbul Breakfast Blend
Jamaican Mountain Select, American Road

They go well with the rubbery croissant
And its greasy smear of farm-fresh spread

Lawrence Hall, HSG
mhall46184@aol.com

                                             Super-Servile Sunday

O sink not down to that corrosive couch,
Docile before the Orwellian screen
That regulates the lives of the servile,
Dictating dress and drink, demeanor, dreams;
Declare your independence from the sludge
Of vague obedientiaries who drowse
Away their empty lives in submission
To harsh, diagonal inches of rule,
Poor weaklings chanting tainted tribal songs
In chorus hamsterable, huddled, heaped,
While costumed in their masters’ liveries,
And feeling little while thinking even less,
The very model of the State’s non-men,
Predictable and dull, submissive ghosts
Crowded, herded in cosmic cattle chutes,
Reflected in dim, noisy nothingness.

But you, O you, be not of them, but be

A wanderer in the moonlight, one known
To God, there in His holy solitude.