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

                        We Know Where You RINO Traitors Live

Some Christians by a newer word seem to abide:
For they preach Trump, and Him crucified

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

                    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

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

                                               The Metternich System

Like Metternich
We seem to be shoring up crumbling institutions
Institutions that have no use for us:
Heavy-lipped Habsburgs, an ossified Church

Like Metternich
We ask if the revolutionaries have permission
To ****** each other for the Goddess Reason
While princes and oligarchs flee for their lives

Like Metternich
We wonder if Napoleon won after all

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

                                         CLASS OF 2022!!!!!!

            Free Food and Clothes on Tuesdays and Thursdays

“CLASS OF 2022!!!!!” is still painted on his pickup truck
Which is parked in front of Christian Outreach
Free food and clothes on Tuesdays and Thursdays
He’s got his MePhone and a box of stuff

Good to see a young man with a plan for his future

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

                                   The Day Internet Explorer Died

Our gadgets from the store, all shiny and new
The subjects of our brags and anecdotes
Are soon held together with Scotch tape and glue
And covered with coffee stains and sticky-notes

Codings and software must also decay
Metaphorical patches fall apart
They too enjoy only a limited day
Thus the limits of electronic art

To our own end, yes, we eventually toddle -
To be replaced by the latest model!

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

                                       Like Love Withdrawn

After months of dreary drought and heat
Light raindrops fall upon the withered world
A few, a very few, and then they stop
Like love withdrawn upon waking from a dream

At dusk the paving into dryness steams
Only the hot and heavy air is wet
And smells of disappointment, dark and sour
Like love withdrawn upon waking from a dream

The westering sun shines briefly, and then is gone
Like love withdrawn upon waking from a dream

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

                         The True Believer Fondles His Piece

He cleans his AR with his little rod
And screams that Trump is his daddy-god

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

                                      The Stillness of the Summer Solstice

I picked a few plums in the summer heat
Some withered apples in the summer heat
A bouquet of zinnias in the summer heat
The figs still green in the summer heat

I gathered blueberries in the summer heat
I dragged water hoses in the summer heat
I mowed the lawns in the summer heat
I fed the hummingbirds in the summer heat

Summer is the season that seems to stand still
And I don’t

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

                                  Cemeteries are Dangerous Places

                          “The dead with charity enclosed in clay”

                                            -Henry V, IV.viii.119

A friend wanted to visit the bones of her people
And give their graves some ****-killer and tending
I was deputed to follow along:
Cemeteries are dangerous places

The cicadas droned through the midday heat
While respectful dust covered the leaves
And my pistol remained discreetly pocketed:
Cemeteries are dangerous places

You never know if you’ll end up in one:
Cemeteries are dangerous places

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

                                             Assault Speeches

Demanding answers speeches outrage speeches
Taping stuffed toys to chain-link fences speeches
Candles speeches makeshift shrines speeches sermons
Speeches asking questions speeches antisocial media

Postings speeches yelling speeches no words
Speeches just no words speeches beyond
An open letter to speeches horrific speeches
No gun zone speeches AR-15 style

Speeches legally speeches well-regulated
Speeches why didn’t someone speeches assault rifle
Speeches it’s not an assault rifle speeches
Assault rifle speeches it’s not an assault rifle

Speeches assault rifle speeches it’s not
An assault rifle speeches speeches speeches

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

                 For the Cranky Old Man Who Complains
                About Girls Wearing Short Skirts in Church

If it were a crime to be young and pretty
The kids could be up for the death penalty

If it were a crime to be young and pretty
The case against you would be adjourned sine die

This is Texas

Where books are banned
And weapons are not
Where we pray for our land
And our children are shot

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

                                  A Grim Quatrain on Mortality

A dog sees birds with its malevolent eyes
And puts the poor feathered creatures to rout
But one day in the field the old dog dies -
The poor birds then will have the dog’s eyes out

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

                  A Violation of the First Law of Thermodynamics

A day so hot that ordinary tasks
Exhaust the body and the soul; to grasp
The handle of a water tap wearies the mind
To grasp a simple thought eludes one’s will

The day is in violation of childhood summers
When little bare feet scampered across the grass
Those days have in adulthood have been stolen
The victims lie abandoned in the dust

Who will lay these charges, and against whom?
And in what court should this strange case be placed?

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

                                     ­      My Bourgeois Leanings

          One day, at a meeting of the Komsomol…he was accused
          of bourgeois leanings just because he happened to wear a tie.

                          -Yevtushenko, A Precocious Autobiography,
                                    recounting an anecdote by his father

I am the only man who wears a tie
With proper coat and trousers (inspection pass)
Properly kitted like a proper guy
To weddings, funerals, dinners, and Sunday Mass

I am the only man who does not wear
Sneakers or baseball caps, gas-station shades
Knee pants, tee shirts, jeans with a built-in tear
Or plastic jackets shaped like hand grenades

If we are facing civilization’s end -
One’s trousers touch one’s oxfords with a quarter-inch bend

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

                               A Poem is its Own Studio

Words lift themselves from the canvas of life

The iambs are open so that the light drifts in
On the artist’s favourite smiling verb
Posing on a dais draped with flowing dreams
Before a canvas of possibilities

Words lift themselves from the canvas of life

A splash of adverb might go here – or not
Maybe a subtle conjunction instead to join
The thesis and the antithesis
In a loving reconciliation

Embraced by silent interjections of love
Words lift themselves from the canvas of life

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

                            Do Not Forsake Me, Oh, My Dushen’ka

                                    In honor of Dimitri Tiompkin

When we learned that a Russian wrote the score for High Noon
And another for John Wayne’s Rio Bravo
It made some of the populist faithful swoon
(Alas that nothing much rhymes with Bravo)

Given that Tiompkin was a Russian critter
We’ll just have to cancel John Wayne and Tex Ritter

Your Hair is Like a Flock of Goats
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                              Your Hair is Like a Flock of Goats

                              (Y)our hair is like a flock of goats
                              Frisking down the slopes of Gilead

                                           -Song of Songs, 4:5-6

Even in a farming community
That awkward compliment you’d better keep
So ask her this joke (if she grants you immunity):
Do goats have mohair than sheep?




(“Do goats have mohair than sheep?” is an old, old, old joke.)

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

              When the Last Catholic Church is Seized and Sold

When at the Last Supper Jesus lifted Himself
Someone at table criticized the servers
For not getting some detail right (“Kids these days…”)

When the last Catholic church is seized and sold
When the bailiffs and deputies are given the keys
(The judges and lawyers will be laughing over single-malt at the country club)
When the vessels of the Altar are sold for scrap
When the windows are stacked at a re-sale shop
When the last Mass is ended and the people dispersed

When the processional cross is taken from the last altar server
Grumpy old Catholics will fault the poor child
For not holding it right (“Kids these days…”)

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

My Friend Joined the NRA and Received a Communist Pocketknife

To prove your patriotism there’s nothing finer
Than to sport an NRA knife made in China

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

                            The Great Replacement Theory

But of course we will all be replaced
We sit outside at dusk with single-malt and cigars
Low voices remembering the challenges we’ve faced
Our loves and losses, children, careers, and wars

Yes, of course we will all be replaced
Others will sit on this lawn and watch the stars
Perhaps in these same chairs, carelessly spaced
And ask each other: Is that Venus? Or Mars?

For you and I will return to dust, old man –
As must everyone in God’s great Plan

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

                              Your Hair is Like a Flock of Goats

                              (Y)our hair is like a flock of goats
                              Frisking down the slopes of Gilead

                                           -Song of Songs, 4:5-6

Even in a farming community
That awkward compliment you’d better keep
So ask her this joke (if she grants you immunity):
Do goats have mohair than sheep?




(“Do goats have mohair than sheep?” is an old, old, old joke.)

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

                                     ­  The Natural Voice of Poetry

                    The modern kings will throttle you to greet
                    The piping voice of artificial birds

                                      -Claude McKay, “To a Poet”

We love the natural voice of poetry
Sung through parking lots and lonely rooms
In low, soft winds that sigh through empty cans
Discarded on the banks of the River Lethe

But we must suffer those artificial birds
Against whom we were cautioned by friend McKay
Who landed in New York and made it Jamaica
There through the natural voice of poetry

By him the artificial birds were set to flight
And the songs of exiles given harmony and light

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

                 The Last Literary Magazine I Will Ever Buy

A weighty enough tome for fourteen dollars
Guest-edited by a famous visiting poet
For that much money there should be more hollers
But it’s mostly free verse, wouldn’t ya know it

Self-pitying free verse (oh, how I have suffered)
First-person pronouns shattered and scattered about
From each other with white space well buffered
Each polemic a sustained, censorious pout

The thesis of each yelp in this literary gong?

All that we say and do and think is wrong

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

                                  The­ Road, The Tao, The Way

                               “The road goes ever on and on”

                                                  -Tolkien

­There is of course the Road, the Tao, the Way
And traveling it grows difficult with age
Or maybe now it travels more for us
But still the Road, the Tao, the Way leads on

When I was young over my shoulder I slung
A canvas bag with a toothbrush and a book
A pen, some poems, and dreams that wrote themselves
And I smoked my pipe and sang as I marched

Some have walked with me, and I with others
Most of them have walked ahead, and are gone
I think they are waiting for me among those stars
Who lighten and brighten as the sun sails away

At dusk Yeats and I talked about the Road
He said he thought there might be a poem

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

   Donnie and Wayne Celebrate the Massacre of the Holy Innocents

While Donny dances for Wayne, dances upon the dead
Celebrating
The latest Massacre of the Holy Innocents

We sit and try to write away the pain
And can’t
We try to shape this chaos into words
And can’t

We are determined to protect the children
And will
We will repudiate the worship of death
We will

While Donny dances for Wayne, dances upon the dead
Celebrating
The latest Massacre of the Holy Innocents

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

                Kenneth Branagh Attempts to ****** Agatha Christie

Mr. Branagh, we’re watching your reputation die
Garishly coloured in the worst CGI

In your first Poirot you made a formless mess -
It was the audience who died on the Orient Express

And then you continued without any style
And lost the plot on your sad cartoon Nile

Do whatever you want; have it your way
But we are sticking with David Suchet

For it is obvious to our great sorrow
That you are a flop as Hercule Poirot

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

Former President Trump Splits Two Infinitives and Botches a Number of Subject, Verb, and Adjective Constructs While Proposing the Arming of Teachers

    “...it's time to finally allow highly trained teachers to safely and
     discreetly concealed carry, let them concealed carry.”

                      -Former President Donald J. Trump
                    to the National Rifle ***., 27 May 2022

All teachers trample the Constitution
All teachers promote contempt for the Flag
All teachers should be in an institution
All teachers are weird (and that one’s a fxg)
All teachers despise the military
All teachers should be slowly microwaved
All teachers hate meat; they’re vegetary
All teachers hate Jesus; they can’t be saved
All teachers are evil; the children are harmed:

And thus, they say, all teachers should be armed

Previously published as “Texas’ Proposed Concealed Carry Law” in Dispatches from the Colonial Office, 2018, available from amazon.com.

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

                  Will No One Friend Me on MyFaceSpaceBookToc?

          “Hitherto at least I have stood in the front ranks of all that is
           progressive in Europe, and here the new generation
           positively ignores me.”

                Pyotr Miusov in Part I, Book II, Chapter V of
                               The Brothers Karamazov

Oh, let it go, Miusov; we are the old men
We used to laugh about when we were young
Though getting old was not part of my master plan
I seem to have grown old – and you did too

We attended secret meetings and scribbled free verse
Whispered “What is to be done?” to each other
Pitied the Proletariat over our wine and cigars
And scorned our elders – we thought ourselves clever

Yes, let it go, Miusov; we are the old men
Left here remembering what might have been

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

                                              Guns ‘N’ Babies

Racks of guns and shelves of ammunition
But almost no formula for our babies’ nutrition

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

                                     Rachel Weeping for her Children

This is spring

There should be inattention in class:
Summer plans for camping and for play
When each sunny day is a barefoot day
Splashing in the stock pond, annoying the cows

Instead of

Chain-link fencing, sagging gates, gunfire
Black rifles, screams, ambulances in lines
Yellow plastic tape, detailed narratives
Telephoto camera lenses, MePhones

And tiny little bodies plastic-wrapped
Carried one by one to refrigerated vaults


(Hey, stud, preach to them about your Second Amendment)

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

      A Constitutional Argument for Disarming the Secret Service

                                “A well regulated Militia...”

They are a disordered militia
Whose ethics are silly and superficia
                    From their mischief God preserve us
                    Our drunken old Secret Service -
Go away, boys; we won’t miss ya

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

                              A Theological Wristwatch

At bedtime my watch suggests to me
That I should meditate with gratitude
For someone who is important in my life
Who gives a deeper meaning to each day

And so I stare at the lava-lamp effect
On the face of my watch, as if it were
An artifact from McGoohan’s The Village
Wanting information, not meditation

And I am grateful; it’s just that the watch
Suggests only For What, and not To Whom

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

                                         Where the Fairies Hide

In the dreary weary heat I crawled
Burrowing deep within a thickety bush
To saw and cut and clip away the growth
That had long formed a formless cloud of green

There might be little elves or fairies, I hoped
Long hidden away among broken bits of pots
In a childhood world of secrets and dreams
Among dappled shadows dizzying me

I thought I heard soft giggles and soft feet
But maybe it was only the dreary weary heat

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

                   I Never Met a Harvard Graduate in Viet-Nam

                              “Now, soldiers, march away...”

                                        -Henry V IV.iii.140

I wasn’t the first to notice that salient fact
For except in matters of feed, seed, and soil
Farm boys weren’t aware of critical thinking -
We trusted our government to get things right

And still...

The children of oligarchs play in law school
Or sun themselves while on perpetual holiday
While the much-deceived children of the poor
In their patriotic obedience die

And still...

Now, soldiers, march away
Your betters are at play
On Daddy’s yacht today

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

                            Blessed by a Former Student

                             Adveni fui in terra aliena

                                      -Exodus 2:22

A smiling young man I didn’t know
Hugged me with enthusiasm, almost in tears
And told me with joy how I had inspired him
When I was his teacher some years ago

I was some moments realizing that
He was Amanda. I hope she is happy
For she was a joyful child, tho’ I confess
That I can sort out neither the pronouns

Nor the century – I am a stranger here
But the folks are friendly, and the coffee’s good

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

                            A Finely Crafted Swiss Frog

Its crystal is the windowpane
Through which its tiny heart is seen
And its splayed and spatulate toes
Grasping securely the eternal

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

                                     ­ Untied Healthcare

Your feedback is important to us important
information Notices and Disclosures
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in a new window] Legal Entities
[Opens in a new window] Share My Health
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& Contact Us SYSTEM ERROR Share Feedback
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SYSTEM ERROR Share Feedback LOGOUT Help
SIGN IN I am not sure I understand /
am able to conceptualize the issue
I would recommend contacting Did you know,
if you have any other questions Would
you be interested in taking a brief survey
clicking the Message Us button on the Help
& Contact Us SYSTEM FAILURE Your call
is important to us...

(Can anyone who spells “health care” as “healthcare”
Be trusted with anything?)

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

            Corporate-Speak Inquisitors Meet with the Faithful

They do not wear dark robes or sinister hoods
Nor even Roman collars with their Izod shirts
In fetching pastel shades of harmlessness
They rule with legal pads and plastic pens

They question us about our parish and priest
And rattle the matter of closing the church
Though it’s difficult to take seriously some pasty old men
Who seem to be a bench of Miss Marples

They do not wear dark robes or sinister hoods
But menace us with evasive can’ts and coulds

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

                     A Few Kind Thoughts for Roman Soldiers

If you have stood your watch throughout the night
To guard a clothesline of national importance
Dug foxholes only to fill them up again
And then patrolled through long days in the heat

If you have enjoyed Cinderella Liberty
And talking about poetry and girls
With a few mates down at the coffee shop
Because that’s all your poor pay can afford

You will then understand the conscript guards
Posted to keep order on Calvary

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

                              A Pasty Boy in Knee-Pantsies
               Lectures on the Supremacy of Gun Ownership
                             Over Access to Baby Formula

You say our baby’s starving?
Don’t bother me with that
As long as I got me my gun
To rat-a-tat-tat!

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

         Leaving the Party Early for Some Fresh Air and a Smoke

Our host was oozy one moment, threatening the next
The drinks were watery, the hors d’oeuvres nothing more
Than pigs in blankets of cruelties and cliches
Among guests likely to call them horse doovers

Through the bottom of my glass I could see
Only a few weak industrial fizzings
Recirculating from Tammany Hall until now
Pasting new labels over unoriginal sins

Unoriginal sins to file and shelve -
I left the Party in 2012

An After-Market Warranty for my Catholic Space Laser

             “...tremulous little people of dim intellect and hyperactive
               imagination...need that Wondrous Explanation that will
               quiet all their fears, thrill them with villains to revile, and
               never tax their feeble powers of intellection.”

                        -John D. MacDonald, Reading for Survival

The Great Texas Emu Bubble, crop circles
Power crystals, cryptocurrency
Jewish space lasers, messages from Q
Lizard people abducted by aliens

Enron, obey the science, the settled science
Chloroquine, tulips, herd immunity
Your Norton has expired, buy magic beans
Invoice #666 needs to be paid today

Your uncle in Nigeria is in lots of trouble
And don’t forget the South Sea Bubble

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

                       The March of the Triumphalist Electrons

                 “Forward, Electronics, your victory’s achieved!
                   In all communications, progress is our creed!”

                               -Communist youth song in
                 Solzhenitsyn’s “For the Good of the Cause”

In all obedience learn to code, to code
For in obeying orders you think for yourself
And rebel by chanting and clenching your fist
As an individual just like everyone else

Now burn your poems, your notebooks, and your pens
And slaughter your thoughts wherever they hide
We will send you your soul through a little screen
Unisize, unisex, one soul fits all

And then, like Moloch and Herod, turn your wild eyes
Your burning eyes
Upon your children

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

                                Upon Reading W. B. Yeats

I am not a Celt;
I am English, and my gods
Are more logical

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


                                            Is “Poetess” Acceptable?

But of course
Just take it
And wake it
Remake it

Empower it
And it’s yours

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

                                       Who Possesses a Poem?

Just as a father passes on to his child
The popular music of his long-lost youth
A teacher passes on to those in his care
The ‘way-cool poetry of his own lost youth

Where once we hid McKuen behind Millay
Young people today hide – but we don’t know what they hide
That is the nature of hiding and hidden
But they’re hiding something, and that’s good

We celebrated the verse of our youth
For youth celebrate their own private verse

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

                             At the Hissing Electric Eye Doors

An old man shuffles his walker to the doors
The sanitary wipes are to the left
A gum-chewer brushes by with a plastic sack
Ranks of shopping carts rust to the right

A child skips through; her mother yells, “Wait! Wait!”
A three-color circular blows by
An angry woman flings her cigarette down
Right there beneath the NO SMOKING sign

Another old man growls, “Son of a *!”
Because he’s pulled the cart with a wobbly wheel

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

                     A Soft-Pop-Rock-Country Song from the 1960s

He wrote a song and swore he’d come back to her
And he did
He wrote a song and swore he’d marry her
And he did
Then he divorced her and married someone else
And he didn’t write a song about that
And then he divorced her
And then he died
And no one wrote a song

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
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                          Anti-Tarnish Silverware Container

                         “Anti-Tarnish Silverware Container”

                                  -a sticker inside the box

A cheap wooden box nailed together long ago
All scratched and patched with mismatched nails and screws
And lined inside with stained, decaying felt
With slots for long lost knives and forks and spoons

Part of someone’s treasure in the Depression time
A dollar or two a month on a layaway plan
At Montgomery Ward or Penney’s or Sears
The “good” silver for Thanksgiving and Christmas

The silverplate has been garage-saled and lost
But there was love, and somehow love remains