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

                                           A Discarded Cat

She adopted us several weeks ago
And after the usual hissings and spittings
Was accepted by the other cats
And the yapping dachshunds? Well, not so much

Cinnamon-Cat loves to be petted and fed
She follows me about my daily work
With plants and plots and pots and honeybees
But she doesn’t quite trust me, not yet

But I’ll do my best; you can bet on that
For she is no longer a discarded cat

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

                          Halftime Show – A James Bond Medley

          Arrangement by Cliff Clash, B.A., M.Ed,
          Choreography by Cliff Clash, B.A., M.Ed,
          And Ms. Feather Dream Jones-Clash, B.A.

In a dinner jacket from the theatre club
A sophomore spy-dances among the twirlers
Along the fifty-yard line all sodden with
The stench of muck and summer-sodden heat

The sodium lights cast a wicked glare
Upon the field and the concession stand
Where snackers in cartoon tees ignore
The blat of the tubas, the boom of the drums

The polyester uniforms now march away
While James Bond coughs in clouds of mosquito spray

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

                                             The Mediaeval Project

Let us progress to the Middle Ages
Those centuries that anchor us in love
Oh, yes, we’ll take along our antibiotics
Our printing presses, eyeglasses, and pocketknives

But we will progress to a living world
Of well-tended fields and chapels of ease
The daily mysteries of the Rosary
Following the mysteries of the plough

Let us progress to the Middle Ages
Each life a Word written on sunlit pages

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

                             I Met a Girl in Newfoundland

She was seated behind the courtesy desk
At the Costco in Saint John’s
All bundled up and shivering
On a drizzly morning in July

“Oh, it’s not that cold,” I laughed
“I’ve never been warm in my life,” she replied
“I’ve never been off this island
And I’ve never been warm in my life”

After a pause, I slunk away
To ponder my coldness that summer day

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

                             I Met a Girl in Newfoundland

She was seated behind the courtesy desk
At the Costco in Saint John’s
All bundled up and shivering
On a drizzly morning in July

“Oh, it’s not that cold,” I laughed
“I’ve never been warm in my life,” she replied
“I’ve never been off this island
And I’ve never been warm in my life”

After a pause, I slunk away
To ponder my coldness that summer day

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

                                  A Judge Who Looks Like Me

I do not want a judge who looks like me
I want a judge who looks at me
                                                  and you
And tells us all, “You have asked for justice
And justice you will have.”

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

       President Biden: There's Going To Be A New World Order,
     It Hasn't Happened In A While And America Has To Lead It

(President Biden: There's Going To Be A New World Order, And America Has To Lead It | Video | RealClearPolitics)

                                             ­            No

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

       President Biden: There's Going To Be A New World Order,
     It Hasn't Happened In A While And America Has To Lead It

(President Biden: There's Going To Be A New World Order, And America Has To Lead It | Video | RealClearPolitics)

                                             ­            No

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

                                     ­ The Sunshine Protection Act

Our Senate has passed the Sunshine Protection Act
And if Old Sol is a sentient being
(And most of us rather hope he is)
He will be much surprised to hear of it

We didn’t know the sun needed protecting:
He rises every day and gives us his best
His brightest “good morning” slanting across
Our happy dreams as they become our hopes

Some tell us that our star is a minor sun
But we’ve never met a finer one!

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

                                     ­ The Sunshine Protection Act

Our Senate has passed the Sunshine Protection Act
And if Old Sol is a sentient being
(And most of us rather hope he is)
He will be much surprised to hear of it

We didn’t know the sun needed protecting:
He rises every day and gives us his best
His brightest “good morning” slanting across
Our happy dreams as they become our hopes

Some tell us that our star is a minor sun
But we’ve never met a finer one!

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

                    We Love our Geriatric ****** Mysteries

We love our geriatric ****** mysteries:
Father Brown with his parcels and brolly
Columbo and his rambling histories
Inspector Barnaby and Troy, by golly

Jessica Fletcher writing novels Down East
Good Doctor Sloan solving crime on the beach
Ben Matlock who thinks hot dogs are a feast
Poirot and Miss Marple, teacups in reach

Typewriters, file folders, and telephones
And hidden behind a wall –
                                              the victim’s bones!

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

              The Song of the Rotor-Tiller is Heard in Our Land

The tines are set for six inches

Today we harvest broken bits of glass
Fragments of old toys, bit of aluminum
A Sylvania flash cube still intact
From a picture taken decades ago

The tines are set for rich earth

Tomorrow we’ll plant sunflowers to sing
“Slava Ukraini!” In the summer sun
Tomatoes, zinnias, peppers in their zones
A little sweet corn and more flowers for fun

The tines are set for happiness

In this little garden-world of peace
Between the bee-pool and the olive tree

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


                William Wordsworth Receives an Email of Rejection

Dear Pronoun-of-Preference Wordsworth:

We have interrogated your poem about daffodils
And can only regret your lack of filtering
For post-colonial non-binary tropes
And gender-vulnerable intersectionality

The daffodils appear not to have been consulted
With regard for their self-affirmation
Which suggests patriarchal guilt through your
Hetero-normative stratification

We find your daffodils ruthlessly aggressive
And your masculinist constructs, yes, regressive

We wish you success elsewhere. Anywhere
Go away

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

                 We Write Our Words in Order to Give Them Away

                                                 Only connect

                                               -Evelyn Waugh

All literature is world literature
A culture that hugs itself to itself
And refuses to share and share alike
Consumes itself in a closed loop, and dies

A mother sings to see her baby smile
A farmer whistles as he follows the plow
A poet speaks to hear her words aloud
A ****** chants his strength against the wind

All workers in all languages create -
All literature is world literature

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

                         Hitchhikers May Be Escaping Inmates

                                 A Sign Along a Texas Road

Hitchhikers may be escaping inmates

Newton is one way, and Jasper the other
Along the two-lane blacktop between the fields
A farmer in chambray blue cultivates his corn
And lads in prison whites cultivate the state’s

Hitchhikers may be escaping inmates

The passerby wonders if the hitchhikers
Are escaping from inmates or if
The hitchhikers are the inmates who choose
Not to be inmates at the moment

Hitchhikers may be escaping inmates

And then there’s the difference between “may” and “might”
Hitchhikers and inmates, soon out of sight

Maybe we’re all trying to escape something

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


                William Wordsworth Receives an Email of Rejection

Dear Pronoun-of-Preference Wordsworth:

We have interrogated your poem about daffodils
And can only regret your lack of filtering
For post-colonial non-binary tropes
And gender-vulnerable intersectionality

The daffodils appear not to have been consulted
With regard for their self-affirmation
Which suggests patriarchal guilt through your
Hetero-normative stratification

We find your daffodils ruthlessly aggressive
And your masculinist constructs, yes, regressive

We wish you success elsewhere. Anywhere
Go away

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

                But Which Jaw Drops – the Upper? Or the Lower?

An advert assures us its product is jaw-dropping
If true, this loss of body parts would be painful
And which part of the purchaser’s jaw drops?
The upper jaw? The lower jaw? The set?

Given our recent experience with Nile.com
We can’t be sure of both jaws for one price
The advertisement might be for a set of jaws
But the small print says you have to pay extra

For a complete jaw-jaw

As a dime-store guru from the 60s might ask
What is the sound of one jaw dropping?
          Dropping
          Dropping
          Droppin­g
          (Clunk!)

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

                         Hitchhikers May Be Escaping Inmates

                                 A Sign Along a Texas Road

Hitchhikers may be escaping inmates

Newton is one way, and Jasper the other
Along the two-lane blacktop between the fields
A farmer in chambray blue cultivates his corn
And lads in prison whites cultivate the state’s

Hitchhikers may be escaping inmates

The passerby wonders if the hitchhikers
Are escaping from inmates or if
The hitchhikers are the inmates who choose
Not to be inmates at the moment

Hitchhikers may be escaping inmates

And then there’s the difference between “may” and “might”
Hitchhikers and inmates, soon out of sight

Maybe we’re all trying to escape something

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

                But Which Jaw Drops – the Upper? Or the Lower?

An advert assures us its product is jaw-dropping
If true, this loss of body parts would be painful
And which part of the purchaser’s jaw drops?
The upper jaw? The lower jaw? The set?

Given our recent experience with Nile.com
We can’t be sure of both jaws for one price
The advertisement might be for a set of jaws
But the small print says you have to pay extra

For a complete jaw-jaw

As a dime-store guru from the 60s might ask
What is the sound of one jaw dropping?
          Dropping
          Dropping
          Dropping
          (Clunk!)

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

                           The Empires That Might Have Been

            “The empires of the future will be empires of the mind.”

                            -attributed to Winston Churchill

Empires of the mind – what a glorious dream
A world of laboratories and libraries
Of beauty through truth, music, words, and art
The free exchange of ideas and discoveries

Ministers of state might have launched missives, not missiles
In polished meter instead of heavy prose
And the worst of enemies would have shared
Champagne and verse on a veranda at dusk

While their children scampered in search of fireflies
Then giggled secrets on the porch of St. Michael’s Church

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

                                I Don’t Know How Life Can Go On

Life can be an impossible hurdle
Just now I want to hide and turn turtle
My breakfast within me has begun to curdle
Because for the first time I lost the Wordle!

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

                        Shifting the Clockfoolery Forward

                  “Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in.”

                                              -Thoreau

This is the day we search out all the clocks:

Two in the den (in which no animals live)
One in the kitchen above the dishy sink
One in the dining room (it chimes the hours)
(the clock, I mean; dining rooms do not chime)
One in the living room next to the piano
Five in the bedroom (I have no idea why)
(Unless I should count clocks instead of sheep)
One in the guest bathroom (its battery is dead)
One in the guest room for guests to see
Three in my office (Mr. Spock tells time)
One on the patio for wasps to buzz
And all the old watches which are not smart

And pointlessly push them forward an hour

We often seem to be searching for time
But perhaps it is time who is searching for us

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

                           The Empires That Might Have Been

            “The empires of the future will be empires of the mind.”

                            -attributed to Winston Churchill

Empires of the mind – what a glorious dream
A world of laboratories and libraries
Of beauty through truth, music, words, and art
The free exchange of ideas and discoveries

Ministers of state might have launched missives, not missiles
In polished meter instead of heavy prose
And the worst of enemies would have shared
Champagne and verse on a veranda at dusk

While their children scampered in search of fireflies
Then giggled secrets on the porch of St. Michael’s Church

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

                     On Reading Kaminsky’s Deaf Republic

Kaminsky takes our neat constructions and breaks
Them back into their atoms, primordial chaos
So that we are reminded that before Creation
There were all those silences laying around

Atoms reminded                  chaos bits that takes before

                              before before         breaks

our and

n
e
a
t
primordial around are we Kaminsky constructions          into back atoms them lying Creation those silences reminded so were there

A poet organizes sounds into meanings
Kaminsky reminds us to pay closer attention
                                          to the silences

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

                                      The Russia Project

I will give up my copy of The Brothers Karamazov
When they pry it from my cold, dead hands

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

                                “Or Just Sit in the Car and Die”

                                 (overheard among the books)

Call Mom
Call Josh
Call an ambulance
Or just sit in the car and die

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

                                    P­ipe Tobacco and Memories

Today I smelled tobacco from a pipe
Although there was no one around except
Perhaps the ghost of the hardware store savant
Whose wisdom filled the air along with smoke

That honest, manly incense from long ago
When the thinking man smoked a Peterson’s pipe
Dunhill could brag of a royal warrant
And Dr. Grabow was a sovereign cure

No, no, we must not smoke anymore
But we can remember those golden days

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

                                    Pipe Tobacco and Memories

Today I smelled tobacco from a pipe
Although there was no one around except
Perhaps the ghost of the hardware store savant
Whose wisdom filled the air along with smoke

That honest, manly incense from long ago
When the thinking man smoked a Peterson’s pipe
Dunhill could brag of a royal warrant
And Dr. Grabow was a sovereign cure

No, no, we must not smoke anymore
But we can remember those golden days

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

                                   Thanks to the Dim Bulbs

I needed a light bulb from the hardware store
And for a gadget three D-cell batteries
The light bulb was nine dollars (I passed it by)
But bought the batteries for eight dollars each

I think we’re all going to be shopping more now
In the recesses of closets and kitchen shelves
And maybe behind the dryer for an errant sock
And stretching the sell-by dates a week or two

But let us be thankful that we do have light bulbs
And rooms in which to enjoy their glow

The Fog of What? 6th or 7th attempt at posting
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                     ­       The Fog of What?

                        “Russian Attack Sets Ukraine Nuclear Plant on Fire”

                                            -BBC, 3 March 2022

The radiation from Zaporizhzhia
Might slither across our poor dying earth
Like serpents bringing our sins back home to us
That we might meditate upon them in death

And all our unpaid bills, our ungiven thanks
The cars we meant to fill with gas today
Like Bible pages rustling in the nuclear wind
Will have to be completed by a different hand

But this fog of war, that’s what they call it -
In truth it’s only the fog of ////
The fog of war

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

                        The Ashes of Lent Fall Upon Ukraine

“Remember, man...”

In Ukraine this season, grey ashes fall
Grey ashes of Lent that fall on everyone
Whether they will have them or not -
The still-warm ashes of our fellow man

“That thou art dust...”

In Ukraine this season, grey ashes fall
There is no line; the ashes wait instead
Among the swirling smoke to present themselves -
This tiny speck of ash was someone’s child

“And unto dust thou shalt return”

In Ukraine this season, grey ashes fall
And cover civilization as its funeral pall

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

                                     ­     A Non-Religious Jew

                  “Well, he may be a good man but he’s certainly not
                    Christian. Zelensky is the first Jewish president of
                    Ukraine, even if he is non-religious...”

                                    -The Remnant, 2 March 2022

He stands in rubbled streets during bomb attacks
And takes a selfie to show us he’s alive
Our tee-shirted leader of the free world
He stands among the wreckage and reassures us

He stands in rubbled streets; he needs a shave
He needs some sleep; he does not need a ride
But The Remnant - O infallible Remnant! –
Dismisses him as just a Jew

If only we were all that Jewish
If only we were all that non-religious

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

                                     ­       The Fog of What?

                        “Russian Attack Sets Ukraine Nuclear Plant on Fire”

                                            -BBC, 3 March 2022

The radiation from Zaporizhzhia
Might slither across our poor dying earth
Like serpents bringing our sins back home to us
That we might meditate upon them in death

And all our unpaid bills, our ungiven thanks
The cars we meant to fill with gas today
Like Bible pages rustling in the nuclear wind
Will have to be completed by a different hand

But this fog of war, that’s what they call it -
In truth it’s only the fog of ////

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

                         Are We Looking Through Sauron’s Eye?

Through our glowing palantiri we watch
Dark images, shadowy and flickering
Ghostly men gathered around machines –
Are we looking through Sauron’s eye?

A silent flash, and structure disappears
Enveloped in blackness and liquid flame
Arcing bits of metal and bits of men -
Are we looking through Sauron’s eye?

Are we looking through Sauron’s eye?
And is that eye now turned on us?

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

                 The State of the Union and an Undisclosed Location

The truth is at an undisclosed location
That firm guardian of the Republic
Surrounded by functionaries and bodyguards
Blue-glowing screens set forth on polished oak

The truth is at an undisclosed location
And so am I, an old man musing his dreams
Surrounded by Yevtushenko and Shakespeare
Lord Byron, Shelley, Keats - Miss Marple too

The truth is at an undisclosed location
But we can discover it if we try

(Begin with the sale table at Barnes & Noble)

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

                                   The Bank That Used to Be

This temple dedicated to work and thrift
Is mostly empty now; its marble floors
Feature sticky yellow feet to keep
Errant capitalists away from each other

The offices are vacant; the lights are dim
A lonely teller in chemical-purple hair
And painted, rhinestoned, clawlike fingernails
Counts not deposits but her MePhone keys

There is no line along the yellow feet
Only one communicant with a deposit slip

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

                                     ­      You Russian Poets

          Only in Russia is poetry respected. It gets people killed. Is
          there anywhere else where poetry is so common a motive
          for ******?

                                            -Osip Mandelstam,
                          murdered by the Soviet state for his poetry

We have gotten into trouble over you
Back in the Cold War and now this hot one
But maybe the investigators’ fear
Was not Communism, but mere literacy

O Mandelstam, you died for words and truth
They say, dear Tsvetaeva, that you hanged yourself
And Gumilyov, they simply had you shot –
The Silver Age in truth was one of lead

In America no one dies for poetry
Working fast food can be a death penalty, though

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

                         Are We Looking Through Sauron’s Eye?

Through our glowing palantiri we watch
Dark images, shadowy and flickering
Ghostly men gathered around machines –
Are we looking through Sauron’s eye?

A silent flash, and structure disappears
Enveloped in blackness and liquid flame
Arcing bits of metal and bits of men -
Are we looking through Sauron’s eye?

Are we looking through Sauron’s eye?
And is that eye now turned on us?
A poem is itself.

The Loneliest Man in the World
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                              The Loneliest Man in the world

          Those he commands move only in command,
          Nothing in love: now does he feel his title
          Hang loose about him, like a giant’s robe
          Upon a dwarfish thief

                                         -Macbeth 5:2

His palaces and dachas are Dunsinanes
With polished floors and television maps
With whining voices in empty uniforms
With woods that come against him in the night

His life, his dreams are sere and crumbling leaves
Waiting only for the broom to sweep them away
Waiting only for the dead to summon them
Waiting only for the final hour to come

He does not hang his banners on reality
He only pushes buttons on remote controls

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

                         Are We Looking Through Sauron’s Eye?

Through our glowing palantiri we watch
Dark images, shadowy and flickering
Ghostly men gathered around machines –
Are we looking through Sauron’s eye?

A silent flash, and structure disappears
Enveloped in blackness and liquid flame
Arcing bits of metal and bits of men -
Are we looking through Sauron’s eye?

Are we looking through Sauron’s eye?
And is that eye now turned on us?

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

The Loneliest Man in the world

          Those he commands move only in command,
          Nothing in love: now does he feel his title
          Hang loose about him, like a giant’s robe
          Upon a dwarfish thief

                                   -Macbeth 5:2

His palaces and dachas are Dunsinanes
With polished floors and television maps
With whining voices in empty uniforms
With woods that come against him in the night

His life, his dreams are sere and crumbling leaves
Waiting only for the broom to sweep them away
Waiting only for the dead to summon them
Waiting only for the final hour to come

He does not hang his banners on reality
He only pushes buttons on remote controls

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

                              The Loneliest Man in the world

          Those he commands move only in command,
          Nothing in love: now does he feel his title
          Hang loose about him, like a giant’s robe
          Upon a dwarfish thief

                                         -Macbeth 5:2

His palaces and dachas are Dunsinanes
With polished floors and television maps
With whining voices in empty uniforms
With woods that come against him in the night

His life, his dreams are sere and crumbling leaves
Waiting only for the broom to sweep them away
Waiting only for the dead to summon them
Waiting only for the final hour to come

He does not hang his banners on reality
He only pushes buttons on remote controls

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

                         Preparing a Wordle for the Third World War

I would have said that the Cold War was the Third
Viet-Nam was hot enough for me
But the old men rattling their dentures in anger
Assure us that this new war is the one

Today I withdrew some cash from the bank
Topped off the gas tanks and the lawnmower cans
Bought water, toilet paper, and batteries
And propped my walking stick beside my bed

My daughter says that tomorrow we start WORDLE
With “PEACE” - her warfare is the best of all

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

          The President of the United States Addresses the World
                                             24 February 2022

Let me be perfectly clear the bottom line
Is this flagrant violations unilaterally
Create make no mistake stained by association
People’s hearts and hopes with every tool more purposeful

Vision assault on the very principles
Every tool at our disposal rising prices
At the gas pump American gas and oil
Companies my administration sanctions

Package monitoring energy supplies consuming
Countries actively working feeling coordinating
At the gas pump stand up to bullies we
are prepared to respond additional moves

Sanctioned to amplify the joint impact...

                   While the brave young are shot down in the streets

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

                                   “The Result was Silence”

          "Today I initiated a telephone conversation with the President
          of the Russian Federation. The result was silence.”

                               -President Volodymyr Zelenskiy

There is no silence in Kiev this dawn
Morning commutes, intermittent news feeds
Explosions. Power failures. How many will die
Without finishing their WORDLE today

Old men rattle their dentures in outrage
Sky News reports a couple of police officers
In the street below, smoking cigarettes
Which makes more sense than most things just now

Kharkov’s air-raid sirens are deeper than Kiev’s
There is no silence in Kiev this dawn

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

                   If This Gets into the Hands of the Russians...

   Prince Caspian: “Have you pen and ink, Master Doctor?”
   Doctor Cornelius: “A scholar is never without them, your
               majesty.”

                                 -C. S. Lewis, Prince Caspian

My notebook – my little pocket notebook
A worthy habit from my long-ago youth
If this gets into the hands of the Russians –

They’ll know all about my dental appointments

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

                               That Woman on a Pedestal Thing

I tried to put her on a pedestal
But I didn’t have one, and anyway
She reminded me that I was out of line
In feeling that anyone but herself

Could put her anywhere

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

     An LGBTRDCST Deconstruction of Gainsborough’s Blue Boy

Blue Boy must be examined through the lens
Of neo-post-colonial queer theory
And LGBT hegemonism
Inverted as bourgeois sentimentalism

It subverts the trope of trans-feminism
As a patriarchal gesture of scorn
Plasticized in pale iridescent blue
And transgressive in its imposture

Or maybe it’s some kid bribed with a shilling
To pose for this picture, however unwilling

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

                               That Woman on a Pedestal Thing

I tried to put her on a pedestal
But I didn’t have one, and anyway
She reminded me that I was out of line
In feeling that anyone but herself

Could put her anywhere

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

    A Master’s Degree from the Dairy Queen in Huntington, Texas

                        And for The Ataman, Dr. Barbara Carr
                                           of Happy Memory

Well, not exactly, but the Dairy Queen
Was my late-night coffee stop on the way home
From all those evening classes in Nacogdoches
I should have asked the girls to sign the diploma

(Is the juke box still broken?)

I worked on that degree for seven years
One class at a time, sweet Jesus, oh, yeah
And God bless Dr. Carr for all those extensions
And the fluorescent-lit journeys through Mother Russia

(Does the ice cream machine still make that funny grinding noise?)

Seven years! I’m not all that smart
But persistence is its own kind of art