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Lawrence Hall Aug 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                  Before Me Sits Young Pablo Neruda

                    On the paperback cover of Residence on Earth

Before me sits pensive Pablo Neruda
His young face resting upon his slender hand
He looks a little to the left of the photographer’s eye
He appears to be thinking great thoughts

Or he might be thinking

Why am I posing like a high school senior?


Residence on Earth, introduction by Jim Harrison
New York: New Directions Publishing Corporation
Pablo Neruda, Residence on Earth, introduction by Jim Harrison
New York: New Directions Publishing Corporation
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                 Before the Magi Came

                                 -1 Maccabees 4:36-60

Yes, long before the holy Magi came
Judah the Maccabee brought forth his gifts
First scourging the Temple clean of false gods
In prayerful preparation for the True

And then presented God with oil and bread
A consecrated Altar of undressed stones
Incense and lamps and songs and grateful hearts
And an octave of inextinguishable light

Thus, long before the holy Magi came
Even before the Star, Judah brought a flame
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                              Behold!

A story requires an occasional “Behold!”
Merely to see the magic is not enough
The children do not merely see Aslan
Nor does Uncle Andrew merely see the witch

Behold!

A story requires an occasional “Behold!”
Merely to see the Truth is not enough
The Magi do not merely see the Star
Nor do the shepherds merely see the Child

Behold!

A story requires an occasional “Behold!”
Or else the magic isn’t truly told

Behold!
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Mar 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                   Being an Eloi is Okay,
           But Make Sure the Smoke Alarms Have Fresh Batteries

Some poets are Eloi, deconstructing this
And disconnecting that in weak free verse
Between the reiki and the pilates
Trying to find an existential voice

And other poets are grim Morlocks, almost,
Through muscling chaos into meaning and light
Between the night shift and the morning cup
Trying to build a voice that speaks with strength

To shape lack of meaning into meaning
That is neither this nor that, but itself
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Nov 2023
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                   Being a ‘Possum Must be Rough

                                      A Dachshund’s Night Patrol

Being a ‘possum can only be rough
Dragged all over the yard by a dachshund
A furious dachshund half its size
Until it collapses into a faint

And unconscious cannot see the absurdity
Of this old man chasing the dachshund all over the yard
Explaining that the ‘possum is a beneficent species
Demanding obedience, and receiving none

It’s not at all biblical, but even so
I command the dog to let my ‘possum go

(No ‘possums were harmed in the making of this minor marsupial motion picture)
Marsupials in the Mist
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 Oct 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                   Beowulf and the Danish Passport Officer

                     From a recently discovered manuscript

The clapped-out Boeing         wheezed to the gate
The ground crew jumped                 name-tags rattling
And swiftly moored                 the shining ocean-bird

Behind his plastic shield                 a Danish official watched
The travelers approach         their passports raised
He stood peeking down         at the naughty selfie
His girlfriend sent         to his bold smart-phone
Shaking his rubber stamp                 he spoke:

“What is                 the purpose of your visit?
Business, or pleasure?                 Hwaet! I’ve stood
At this same gate                 longer than you know
Keeping our gift shops free         from British footer hooligans
No commoner carries                 such fine matching luggage
Unless his Rolex                 and his boyish good looks
Are lies                         You! Tell me your name
And your home address         and your email!
The quicker the better                 I’m off-duty in ten minutes.”

Beowulf answered him          Unlocking his smart-phone:

“We are the Geats           the mighty, mighty Geats!
Men who follow Malmo FF           Malmo FF the great!
And we have come seeking           Parken Stadium
Greatest of all stadia                   Its shining seats polished
By cheering generations                   of fat-full footer fans
We have come to cheer           Malmo FF
While they whup up on           Dansk Boldspil Union
Instruct us, watchman                   Where is the stadium
But first, where is the beer?”

                          The worthy officer
Answered him boldly:

                          “A true fan knows
The difference between           fighting on the field
And puking in the stands                   and keeps that knowledge clear
In his beery brain                   I believe your babbling
Go forward, credit cards and all           on into Denmark
Spend your money!                   Our exchange rate is generous!
And then go home bearing our love           while we bear your money.”

(Stamp, stamp, stamp)          “Tram stop to the left
Taxis to the right”

(Scholars everywhere will regret that here the burnt and torn manuscript breaks off.)
As written the caesura are physically divided in each line; electronic transmission might scramble them.
Lawrence Hall Jun 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                            On the Unlocking of Words

           Their leader answered him, Beowulf unlocking
           Words from deep in his breast:  "We are Geats…”

                    -Beowulf to the Danish Coast Watcher

In bold and sturdy four-beat lines
Beowulf keeps his knowledge clear
With kennings well-crafted and careful caesurae
And never needing to raise his voice

But thus the Grendel-voice responds:

“Woo woo that’s just my person opinion that’s what I’m talking about follow your passion learn to code no offense, but *** oh my God oh my God woo woo hey hey ** ** something-something has got to go woo woo only dead fish go with the flow tear it down shut it down burn it down woo woo lock her up there is no I in team woo woo not my president it’s not rocket science it is what it is woo woo say it loud say it clear this is what something looks like woo woo is there an app for that woo woo that’s what I’m saying woo woo…”

But you - be brave like Beowulf, and boldly dare
To unlock your words with creativity and care
We owe much to Tolkien, who popularized both BEOWULF and the elegance and strength of language well-crafted.
Lawrence Hall Jul 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                Beowulf Visits the Dentist

Arise from the nitrous oxide

From the somnolence, dreams, and pain

With forge-hammered teeth

And then go out

Go out and bite something
(Trying for the Anglo-Saxon four-beat line)
Lawrence Hall Jan 2022
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                  Be Still, and Bring Your Attention to Your Breath

And so we find ourselves obeying a watch:
Be still, and bring your attention to your breath
We do, and watch an aquamarine lotus
Glowing and growing and pulsing before our eyes

Now inhale

And ponder the mysteries of respirations
Breathe in the air that was always here
From Creation until now and beyond
A mystic stream through all living things

And exhale

Giving back to all that which was given
Knowing that it will be enriched and returned
Obey the watch!
Lawrence Hall Feb 2019
For Young Artists, Musicians, Scientists, Poets, and Philosophers

Be strong in your Pixies, for some will say
That you are wasting your time on fantasy
When you should be laboring hard all day
As servant to some old master’s machinery

Be strong in your Pixies, yes, even when
You are all grown up, and have a great career
Dream still again each magic forest and glen
And keep your Pixie-knowledge close and clear

Be strong in your Pixies, and sometimes glance
Back to that moonlit realm, where Pixies dance
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
Lawrence Hall Mar 2017
Beware the Odes of March (tho’ this is not really an ode)

or

In the Italian Kitchen with Brutus and Cassius

or

I Come to Curry Caesar, Not to Baste Him

Julius Caesar on the Ides
Marches to the senate house
Up to him young Brutus strides
And, too, Cassius (what a louse!)

Then mean Brutus takes his knife
So does Cassius; you know the ballad:
“Lettuce chop cold Caesar’s life
And thus create the Caesar salad!”
Lawrence Hall Sep 2018
How attractive he is, and how beset
By those stuffy boots on a Roman hill
How progressive, how forward, how brilliant
And how attached to the bubbly How Now

How fashionable with all his little books
So happenin’, so 1928
“Beyond these symbols” he writes the fashions
About some bones (so conveniently lost)

In the Gobi Desert he dug a tooth
And then upon this molar built his
                                                                     truth?
(re Teilhard de Chardin)
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

            Scriptural Textual Analysis Applied to Act II of Macbeth

                                The Book of Steve Jobs 43:13-16

“Oh, no, Mr. Hall!
It’s right here in the Bible!” she exclaimed
Standing up suddenly from her desk
Eagerly waving her MePhone aloft

And then she paused
Appeared to be slightly embarrassed
Laughed
Took a selfie

And laughed some more

As did we all

Happiness
The Bible on a MePhone
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                Bifocalism for the Masses and, Like, Stuff

Bifocals – the upper lens sees far away
The sun and the moon and the dancing stars
All in their appointed places above
Great mountains and oceans and thunderstorms

Bifocals – the lower lens sees the end of your nose
The sweep hand dancing around your Timex watch
The book you are reading, the book you are writing
Your thoughts encoded in orderly lines

Bifocals – both lenses balance your sense of vision -
But take the stairs with care and precision!
Frivolity.
Lawrence Hall Feb 2023
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

                                        A White-Space Ripoff

If you purchase this volume as a notebook with a few piquant aphorisms already scribbled here and there on its pages you will have some value for your $26 (now under $20 via amazon).  If you buy it as a volume of poetry you will delight in many of those brief witticisms but as a whole might be disappointed that Mr. Collins and Random House have your money and you have lots of wasted wood pulp.
Lawrence Hall Mar 2019
That climbing ratitude
In nightly interlude
And moral turpitude
Eats all the birdy-food

(I haven’t thought up an appropriate amphimacer [yes, I had to look that up] “ude” rhyme for the destruction of a bird feeder, but if I do it will go here)

Thus shows his gratitude
Oh! What an attitude!
I speak with acritude
Thus ends this platitude





For the true adventures of Billy Possum, see Thornton W. Burgess’ wonderful Mother West Wind stories.

Thanks to L.B. for a correction - Mr. B's possum is Billy, not Johnny.  No wonder Billy sometimes hisses!
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
Lawrence Hall Jan 16
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

          Binding Each Word with an Incantation, a Charm, a Spell

You. Not a generalized out-there “you” but – YOU

                                          Gentle Writer

A mysterious thought is dream’ed unto you
Or a conclusion sails from your observant mind

You take a pen of goose-quill carefully carved
You dip it into a horn or pottle of ink
Not a metaphorical inkhorn of floridity
But the horn of a beast, hollowed out
Stoppered with a fitted wooden plug
And charged with ink of a curious blue
Of minerals or dyes or the juice of berries boiled
And worked with pagan spells or Christian prayers

You take an expensive page of animal-skin
Worked out with scrapings and scrubbings and acids
Or perhaps imported sheets of Egyptian papyrus
(Against which some of the younger brethren sneer)

Remember the annual budget! Be careful, now!
Paper doesn’t grow on trees, you know!
(Well, you could argue about the papyrus)

You set the light just right, the sun or a lamp
The Altar is where candles glow in honor of Our Lord
(And then there’s the budget; candles are expensive)
So you must work with the sun or a tallow lamp
At a writing ***** angled as the amarius says

You think a thought
You lift your pen
With a prayer upon it
You guide it down
You write a word

A word

Each word is magic






What did you write?
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                               Bishops Who Roared Like Lions

Your Grace:

There have been bishops who have roared like lions
But your demeanor is that of a house pet
Please rise from your couch in Caesar’s triclinium
And return to the streets to serve God’s people
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                   Bishops Who Roared Like Lions

Your Grace:

There have been bishops who have roared like lions
But your demeanor is that of a house pet
Please rise from your couch in Caesar’s triclinium
And return to the streets to serve God’s people
Lawrence Hall May 2021
27 May 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                    B­ismarck and Hood

Pocket knives, love letters, rosaries, wrenches
Pictures of ski trips, girlfriends, wives, and mums
Notebooks, youthful attempts at poetry
Toothbrushes, naughty pictures, candy from home

Lockers of toilet paper and light bulbs
Study guide outlines for promotion exams
Spit-shined shoes, the smoking lantern is out
Now battle lanterns and battle stations

Death-screamings through the ventilator exhaust
From thousands of teenaged boys forever lost
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Sep 2020
Bitter Old Men Yelping at Each Other

       (rather like some of the in-laws over Christmas dinner)


     “Language, the home and receptacle of beauty and meaning….”

                                 -Doctor Zhivago, p. 437


My country, ‘tis of thee

     “Get out of your bunker and get out of the sand trap!”

Sweet land of liberty

     “What do you want to call them? Give me a name. Give me a name!”

Of thee I sing

     “It’s hard to get a word in with this clown.”

Land where my fathers died

     “Proud Boys, stand back and stand by!”

Land of the pilgrims’ pride

     “He’s Putin’s puppet!”

From every mountain side

     “You can’t even say the word ‘law enforcement!’”

Let freedom ring

     “Will you shut up, man?!”


(No apologies to Samuel Francis Smith; he pinched the tune from “God Save the Queen.” As for the sad old men, they are entirely our own.)
Lawrence Hall Nov 2017
Black Friday: Casualty Lists at a Discount

When the last American has exhausted
The last extension on the last credit card
The last order is dropped by the last drone:
The last electronic talking flashlight

The last Your Team’s Name Goes Here baseball cap
With the patented adjust-o-matic
Sizing strap that will be the envy of
All the ‘way cool guys in the neighborhood -

Will then the drones be ordered far away
To search for credit on other planets?
Lawrence Hall Feb 2019
Not worth a d**n
In Viet-Nam -
Fire once and jam

But now

They’ve fixed that mother
It’s like no other -
Go shoot your brother
Lawrence Hall May 2022
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 May 20
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                 Blueberries Ripening in Love

A blueberry bush
Clusters of little blue orbs
Maybe tomorrow?
Lawrence Hall Aug 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                              Blue Moon and a Spooky Old Tree

To watch the moonrise is almost liturgical
Her bright silver light behind the far-off pines
Rising and glowing and larger and larger
Silent and silver, lifting above the woods

I set a camera to watch Moon through the night
Electronics see the night and light differently
The old apple tree appears white and skeletal
And ghosts pretending to be insects flit about

Moon and trees and ghosts when left alone
Make merry mischief knowing that I am gone
Lawrence Hall Nov 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                                    Boat!

                                  “The fares are fixed, sir.”

         -Boatman to St. Thomas More in A Man for All Seasons

If I don’t give the Boatman Charon a tip
Do I get out of going on that final trip?
Lawrence Hall Jul 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                       Bob Newhart and the Treadmill of Sisyphus

                                                    “Hi­, Bob!”

                        Exercising While Watching BOB NEWHART

Several times each day I roll myself up
The torturous treadmill of Sisyphus
I am more of a marshmallow than a rock
Which is the point of this tiresome endeavor

Several times each day I find myself back
At the foot of the devilish device
To wheeze myself wheeze step wheeze step wheeze step
To promised abs of steel at the rainbow’s end

Dr. Hartley is on line one because
Sometimes you need
A telephone call from your driving instructor
Bob Newhart is yet another proof that God loves us.
Lawrence Hall Sep 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

Boeing, Studebaker, John Deere, and my Tupperware™ Coffee Cup


           “The days are gone…
           When wonderful things were worked among them”

                            -The Seafarer, trans. Burton Raffel


My Tupperware coffee cup is as a chalice
With which I salute the beginning of each day
Cool, colorful, comforting craftsmanship
An honest, utilitarian work of art

We are told such things will be no more
“Made in USA” is “Factorum Romae
Younger nations will find us camping among the ruins
Of works and arts we no longer comprehend

A colonial soldier might note that once we were a great people
His colonel will reply, “Tosh! They’re simple savages.”
(I blame them ****** pervert teachers.)
Lawrence Hall Jun 22
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                               Bombs – All Sizes

                                    -As Jack Kerouac did not say


          If we are all going to be destroyed…let that bomb when it
          comes find us doing sensible and human things praying,
          working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the
          children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint
          and a game of darts—not huddled together like frightened
          sheep and thinking about bombs. They may break our bodies
          (a microbe can do that) but they need not dominate our
          minds.

                        -C.S. Lewis, “On Living in an Atomic Age,” 1948


Bombs fall tonight, but then they fall every night
Conceived over single-malt, born of the generals
Suffering not at all as their electronics systems
Guide them in the ways the Bible salesman deems

Bombs fall tonight, on a nuclear facility, they say
We can only ask the ashes and winds
While in our triumphalist Ozymandian presumption
We fancy that bombs will never fall on us

Bombs fall tonight – and have we been doing
Sensible and human things?
https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/world/right-move-wrong-team/ar-AA1HbUrN?ocid=msedgntp&pc=HCTS&cvid=373b2c8a10c84626951eda4ca2c00992&ei=50
Lawrence Hall Dec 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

      Bombshell: The U. K. Daily Mail is Saying the Same Thing

Everyone is saying the same thing jaw-dropping everyone is saying the same thing iconic everyone is saying the same thing breaking cover everyone is saying the same thing bombshell everyone is saying the same thing haunting everyone is saying the same thing mysterious everyone is saying the same thing eye-watering everyone is saying the same thing ******* clad everyone is saying the same thing toned abs everyone is saying the same thing backlash everyone is saying the same thing jaw-dropping everyone is saying the same thing cleavage everyone is saying the same thing bombshell bombshell bombshell
Lawrence Hall Jun 2024
Lawrence Hall HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                       Book Removal Training

                   The orange flames waved at the crowd as paper and
                   print dissolved inside them. Burning words were torn
                   from their sentences.

                                       -The Book Thief, p. 112

And now burning words must be torn from free people
For if people read they might think about things:
Why does the Party’s Jesus hate everyone
And why are weapons superior to ideas?

Can a hangperson’s noose teach us to love
Burning crosses comfort a frightened child
Why do the cult’s censors fly our flag upside down
While stealing books from our children’s hands?

A state that trains people to purge library books
Is a slave state



Florida revises school library book removal training after public outcry
Story by Douglas Soule, USA TODAY NETWORK

Florida revises school library book removal training after public outcry (msn.com)
Lawrence Hall Mar 2022
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                       Book Reviewers: Stop Unpacking!

You unpack the words, you unpack the lines
You unpack the themes, you unpack the scenes
You unpack the hints, you unpack the signs
You unpack the beats, you unpack the means

You unpack the forms, you unpack the rhymes
You unpack the plot, you unpack the verse
You unpack the memes, you unpack the times
You unpack everything and make it worse!

With some exasperation I ask of you -
Just what does all this unpacking DO?
Tired metaphors obscure thought and are unprofessional.
#unpack
Lawrence Hall Nov 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

             Book Reviewers Promote Freedom by Giving Orders

                                   “Obey me and be free!”

           -Number Six in the Free for All episode of The Prisoner

The irony of the imperative in most reviews
Is to make a command that the reader must heed
Keeping in chains the literary muse:
You must read this must-read which you need to read
Admittedly, "must-read" is not as tedious as "weaves a tapestry."
Lawrence Hall Mar 2022
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                       Book Reviewers: Stop Unpacking!

You unpack the words, you unpack the lines
You unpack the themes, you unpack the scenes
You unpack the hints, you unpack the signs
You unpack the beats, you unpack the means

You unpack the forms, you unpack the rhymes
You unpack the plot, you unpack the verse
You unpack the memes, you unpack the times
You unpack everything and make it worse!

With some exasperation I ask of you -
Just what does all this unpacking DO?
Tired metaphors obscure thought and are unprofessional.
Lawrence Hall Oct 2020
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                  Boo­ks are Secret Places

Books are secret places where words go to hide
When the world goes wrong, and children are hurt
By grownups who never learned how to read or love
Or even tell funny stories around the campfire

Books are secret places where stories go to hide
When there’s shooting and looting, and children are hurt
By grownups who never think of anything beyond
What their clever leaders tell them to do

Books are secret places where poems go to hide
When museums are looted, and children are hurt
By grownups who can see only ideologies
And never the good, the true, the beautiful

Books are sacred vessels: read them, love them -
They hold our civilization in trust
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Nov 2017
Borodin: On the Steppes of Central Asia

Lost in a remote province of the mind
A youth attends to the cheap gramophone
Again: On the Steppes of Central Asia,
A recording by a mill town orchestra
Of no repute.  But it is magic still:

While washing his face and dressing for work
In a clean, pressed uniform of defeat,
For ten glorious minutes he is not
A function, a shop-soiled proletarian
Of no repute.  Beyond the landlord’s window,

Beyond the power lines and the ***-holed street,
He searches dawn’s horizons with wary eyes
For wild and wily Tartars, horsemen out
To blood the caravans for glory and gold.
A youth greets the day as he truly is:

A cavalryman, a soldier of the Czar,
Whose uniform is glorious with victory.
Lawrence Hall Nov 2016
Borodin’s  "On the Steppes of Central Asia"

Lost in a remote province of the mind
A youth attends to the cheap gramophone
Again: On the Steppes of Central Asia,
A recording by a mill town orchestra
Of no repute.  But it is magic still:
While washing his face and dressing for work
In a clean, pressed uniform of defeat,
For ten glorious minutes he is not
A function, a shop-soiled proletarian
Of no repute.  Beyond the landlord’s window,
Beyond the power lines and the ***-holed street,
He searches dawn’s horizons with wary eyes
For wild and wily Tartars, horsemen out
To blood the caravans for glory and gold.
A youth greets the day as he truly is:
A cavalryman, a soldier of the Czar,
Whose uniform is stained with victory.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2017
Borodin's On the Steppes of Central Asia

Lost in a remote province of the mind
A youth attends to the cheap gramophone
Again: On the Steppes of Central Asia,
A recording by a mill town orchestra
Of no repute.  But it is magic still:
While washing his face and dressing for work
In a clean, pressed uniform of defeat,
For ten glorious minutes he is not
A function, a shop-soiled proletarian
Of no repute.  Beyond the landlord’s window,
Beyond the power lines and the ***-holed street,
He searches dawn’s horizons with wary eyes
For wild and wily Tartars, horsemen out
To blood the caravans for glory and gold.
A youth greets the day as he truly is:
A cavalryman, a soldier of the Czar,
Whose uniform is stained with victory.
Lawrence Hall Feb 2018
Lost in a remote province of the mind
A youth attends to the cheap gramophone
Again: On the Steppes of Central Asia,
A recording by a mill town orchestra
Of no repute.  But it is magic still:
While washing his face and dressing for work
In a clean, pressed uniform of defeat,
For ten glorious minutes he is not
A function, a shop-soiled proletarian
Of no repute.  Beyond the landlord’s window,
Beyond the power lines and the ***-holed street,
He searches dawn’s horizons with wary eyes
For wild and wily Tartars, horsemen out
To blood the caravans for glory and gold.
A youth greets the day as he truly is:
A cavalryman, a soldier of the Czar,
Whose uniform is bright with victory.
Lawrence Hall Sep 2016
Bourgeois Sentimentality**

A beagle puppy napping on the hearth
The morning offering whispered at dawn
Young lovers flirting on a garden bench
The chair in which Granddaddy used to sit

Cranky old men who feed the birds each day
Cool boy-band posters on a teenager’s wall
Red spider-lilies in the autumn sun
And children’s toys scattered all over the yard

“Bourgeois sentimentality!” some cry:
Well, yes, yes it is – by the Grace of God
Lawrence Hall Aug 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                 Boxes are for FedEx

You don’t want to hear about my boxes
I don’t much care much about your boxes
Boxes are for FedEx. And birthday gifts
Good Comrades check boxes;
                                                poets create
Beauty among the chaos
A poem is not propaganda; it is itself.
Lawrence Hall Aug 2022
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                 Breakfast in Constantinople

The waitress greeted us in Saint Petersburg
We drank strong coffee in Alexandria
Our omelets were served in Cambridgeshire
As we gossiped in the narthex of Hagia Sophia

We briefly sat in the halls of Congress and idled
And said good morning to Shelley and Keats
We admonished die Rheintochter to behave themselves
But they ignored us and flirted with some sailors

What fun in table-talk as the day begins -
There’s nothing more joyful than breakfast with friends!
Lawrence Hall Apr 2018
“Why, then, God’s soldier be he.”

-Shakespeare

“I’m Old Man Briggs,” he laughed, shaking my hand
That famous merry twinkle in his eye;
He made the table at the ******* Barrel
A festival of right good fellowship

But even as the plates were passed around
And with them too the happy banter of men
He sometimes seemed to drift away in thought
Into the past, into the mists, into -

His boyhood bayous, and the fields of youth
The desperation of Depression years
And still a boy, on the shingle at Normandy
Fighting across the smoky fields of France

Then home again to build the peace for us
With muscle and sweat, and with love and thought
Citizen-soldier, happy raconteur -
“I’m Old Man Briggs,” he laughed, shaking our hands

His place is empty now, just a little while
For we will see him again, at Supper
Lawrence Hall Feb 2019
I hope I have been an inspiration
To the masses, to the humble people
Who go each day from their humble condos
To their humble jobs on the ski slopes of America

The humble artisans who humbly toil
On the balance beams and the practice fields
The humble laborers in the swimming pools
Who sacrifice so much for the rest of us

The humble commons who want my autograph
And little girls who want to be like me, me, me
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.


Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
Lawrence Hall Jun 2019
We broke at last the secretive dress code
With an Enigma machine from Singer
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:

Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com

It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
Lawrence Hall May 17
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                  Bring Me the Head of Peter Rabbit

My little dog has gotten into the habit
Of dining at dusk on delicious rabbit

Last night she blitzed past me as I opened the door
And left me a gift on the bedroom floor

I blinked when I saw at the foot of the bed
With its eyes still open – a poor rabbit’s head

Luna-Dog looked up and pawed at my knee
As if to ask, “Aren’t you proud of me?”

I reminded her gently (no need to fume)
That we take our meals the dining room
Lawrence Hall Feb 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                             Broccoli on the Primary Ballot

                         (as President Bush maior did not say)

Broccoli, limp broccoli, that’s all I see
Just rotting broccoli all stink, stunk, stank
No real choices today, only broccoli –
The same old broccoli, putrid and rank
Lawrence Hall Feb 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                   Browsing the Poetry Titles in the Book Store

            I soon had a thorough understanding of the rules.              
            For a poem to go through there had to be a few lines  
            devoted to [         ]

                     -Yevtushenko, p. 68, A Precocious Autobiography

Call Me by the Post-Colonial Things We Carried Without Borders in the Boat in the Twilight Garden of our Being Unsilencing the Silent Voices Songs of Our Powerful People Aimlessly in Fire New and Selected Hopes To Change Your Life Forever Becoming the Healing                                                          ­                                                       You Always Wanted to Be in the Emptiness Within While Searching the Soul of the Underself in Quest of Anti-hierarchy For Elegies of the Lover
Who
Never
Was
But
Who
Might
Be on the Silences of Screaming Wings in a Rhapsody of a Plangent Tangent of Voided Meanings at the End of the             Rainbow World When a Golden Sickle Pierced the Sighings of                     the Moon in  Your Shivering Hand Leaves in the Exiled Gentleness of              Barbed Wire Pillows Comforting Your Cerulean Soul-Quest of Meaningful    Meaninglessness adrift in the Writhing  


Arms of your Powerful Weakness as a Twinkling Pancreas Vaults        Ambition Through Disconnected Quotes from Shakespeare Who was My           Soul-Twin Aflame with Passionless Passion for a Forbidden Vegetable Incarnadining     the Cosmic Cypress of Your Unattainable Body Through the Music of                 the Trapezoids as the Forbidden Kiss of Life

And, like, stuff
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