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Lawrence Hall Dec 2017
Janus Laughs

Old Janus surely laughs at our mistake
In thinking that the world begins again,
That pages turned in calendars and books
Reduce mysteries into measurements
Lawrence Hall Mar 2022
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 Feb 2018
No Exit 1

I fled it, down the minutes and down the hours 2
I fled it, from each InterGossip troll
I fled it, despairing, with weakening powers
But I could not escape the super bowl

1 No Exit, Jean Paul Sartre
2 “The Hound of Heaven,” Francis Thompson
I did not attend the high holy day liturgy of the republic, but this morning I cannot escape hearing about it.
Lawrence Hall Jun 2017
Jerusalem, Athens, and Rome

See now Jerusalem, Athens, and Rome
Three celebrants mitred with golden light  
And vested in pillar, temple, and dome
They lift life’s elements in sacred rite:      
  
Jerusalem the Wild, where prophets sing
Athens the Reasoner, amid her vines                    
Rome, the Giver of Laws, whose trumpets ring:
All send us civilization through wonders and signs                        

In faith and form and word and polychrome -
See now Jerusalem, Athens, and Rome
Lawrence Hall Jan 2019
And Lord we just wanna

Upon my folk guitar I plang three chords
I place the book of Psalms upon a stand
And I can sort of mix them for the Lord
And twankle-twank clichés throughout the land

And Lord we just wanna

Now with her tambourine comes Sister Jean
To help me score MY song (MY name comes first)
She’ll rhythm that machine to our happenin’ scene
And wrap our Jesus in a tune chain-versed

And Lord we just wanna
And Lord we just wanna
And Lord we just wanna

“And Lord we just wanna” is our sugary tone
But the holy copyright is mine alone

And Lord we just wanna
Lawrence Hall Apr 2017
A Meeting in the Parish Hall

To the arrhythmia of mostly futile clicks on a hand-held gadget

No food or drinks in game room can someone
Please get the lights no not there over there
PowerPointlessness uh-oh can someone
Please get the lights okay I’ve got it now

Uh-oh oh wait these slides are all mixed up
Can someone get the lights again okay
I’ve got the sound now hospitality
Ministers what does “Eucharist” mean

Foam-cup coffee penitential folding chairs
No cell phones please dear God why am I here
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                Jim Croce and a Rainy Morning

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

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

He gave us good thoughts through his guitar’s strum -
And, yeah, a wild moustache to back away from!
Lawrence Hall Sep 2018
The National Security Advisor
In all his frumpery and trumpery
Waves his combat moustache menacingly
Backed up by each nuclear incisor

He threatens Iran with his “hell to pay”
Word missiles through his bristles - “We will come after you!”
Omitting to say (through his ****** hairdo)
His child will not go, but yours will – hooray!

For his own combat record is no joke:
He bravely fought the Cong around Fort Polk
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
Lawrence Hall Sep 2023
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                 Joining the Class Struggle

                              “Yuri, what splendid words!”

                                  -Anna in Doctor Zhivago

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

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

Liberate the people’s goods! To arms! To arms!
(But who will stay behind to work the farms?)
Lawrence Hall Jan 2019
The Moleskine™© is Chinese now, has been for years
And anyway Hemingway would probably type
Into his electronic personal device:
“Jose was dead. So was his fitness watch.”

Still

There’s rhythm in a pen as in a key
One flows, the other taps, syllables dance
Your thoughts into an opera of life
Performed in a theatre of silent stars

The Moleskine is in your hands now, will be for years
So choreograph your thoughts onto that page
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 Nov 2023
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                         ­                Havoc

                       What is havoc, and how does one wreak it?

Havoc is a condition or state of being
That apparently exists only to be wrought
(There is no such word in English as “wreaked”)
A wreak does not now obtain without a havoc
And there is no havoc without a wreak
Journalists can't seem to get through an article without writing "wreaking havoc." Do they know even what it means?
Lawrence Hall May 2017
Jury Panel in the Republic

A man with a gun tells the people to rise
And as the judge enters the room, they rise
The judge tells the people to sit; they sit
Dividing out twelve to determine reality

Republics dispose of liturgies
Because duties, hierarchies, and honors
As freely given and freely received
Are odious in the sight of the people

Those free, brave people who will not stand for kings -
So a man with a gun tells them to rise
Lawrence Hall Feb 10
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                           Just Another Smug Football Recusant

Last night at dusk I admired the brightening stars
And before going inside put the gate on the latch
While saying goodnight to the Moon, Jupiter, and Mars
(Someone said something about a football match?)
Lawrence Hall Jan 2019
We are the F.B.I.; we beat and yell and roar

But it’s okay –

We are not SMERSH pounding upon your door
(Who can trust any of them?)
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                          “Just One More Thing”

His shabby raincoat
His rumply old suit and tie
His “Just one more thing…”
Columbo
Lawrence Hall May 2019
There is no monolith I push against
If it is there I simply walk around it
Insolently, usually, hands in pockets
Pretending that the monolith is not

I have been cautioned about my attitude
And then I taped those cautions to the stone
Or made them into verse to be resented:
And just who do you think you are, smart boy?

And to tell you the truth I’m not quite sure
If I ever find out, I’ll let me know
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 Jul 2017
Court Day

So sullenly he sneers and slouches there
Behind a menu that he will not read
His mother smiles apologetically
And orders milk and cereal for him

He sulks beneath his franchise baseball cap
And grunts into a little plastic box
Then shoves it back into his pressed knee-pants
His mother smiles apologetically
                                                  ­           tips apologetically
                                                  ­           pays apologetically

The waitress with her chalice takes communion ‘round
Refills the cups at each creaky table
Newspaper stories, what is this world coming to,
Bacon and eggs, toast, orange juice, refills, life

Beyond the misted glass the old court house
Begins to take the early morning light
Like an old man taking his first cup of the day
Having another go at civilization

A rural Thomas More parks his old truck
This Chaucerian sergeant of the law
Will plead the usual catalogue of not-his-faults
The lad will smirk and feign apologies

The creaky tables of the ancient laws
To be served with irrelevant custom
The lad demands change for the Coke machine
His mother yields
                                 Apologetically.
Lawrence Hall Feb 2017
Juvenile Court Day

So sullenly he sneers and slouches there
Behind a menu that he will not read
His mother smiles apologetically
And orders milk and cereal for him

He sulks beneath his franchise baseball cap
And grunts into a little plastic box
Then shoves it back into his pressed knee-pants
His mother smiles apologetically
                         tips apologetically
                        pays apologetically

The waitress with her chalice takes communion ‘round
Refills the cups at each creaky table
Newspaper stories, what is this world coming to,
Bacon and eggs, toast, orange juice, refills, life

Beyond the misted glass the old court house
Begins to take the early morning light
Like an old man taking his first cup of the day
Having another go at civilization

A rural Thomas More parks his old truck
This Chaucerian sergeant of the law
Will plead the usual catalogue of not-his-faults
The lad will smirk and feign apologies

The creaky tables of the ancient laws
To be served with irrelevant custom
The lad asks for change for the Coke machine
His mother yields
                                   apologetically
Lawrence Hall Aug 2018
Kafka and his Giant Insect
                            Which Might Be a Cockroach
                                      But Maybe Not
                We Could go to Das Scloss and ask Mr. K

An insect woke up one morning and realized
He had been transformed into Gregor Samsa

From a life focused on eating hair and grease
Glue, soup, bread, paper, leather
Sewerage, butter, meat (fresh and decayed)
Makeup, cookies, sugar, toothbrush bristles
Cookies, pizza, flour, tacos, apple pie
Dead bodies, feces, and his own species

He now had to deal with the confusion
The sorrow of being Gregor Samsa
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
Lawrence Hall Jul 2017
Kafka’s Coffee Cup

A poor petitioner spoke unto a grille;
His need was simple, coffee ‘gainst the dawn.
A voice metallic, disembodied, chill
Chanted a liturgy through the speaker ‘phone:

“And would you like some sweetener with that?
Sugar?  Or chemicals, yellow or pink?
Creamer, perhaps, no gluten and no fat;
The selection is yours; what do you think?

“And, oh, yes, would you like to supersize
Your order with a little bit of nosh?
A doughnuts or bagel, some curly fries,
Or a croissant with cream cheese, by gosh!”

(The reader pauses, then speaks the last two lines slowly)

Years passed, as did this tale of Kafka’s woe:
He died while waiting for that cup of joe.
cf. *Das Schloss*
Lawrence Hall Aug 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                  Kafka, You, and the Self-Service Checkout Kiosk

                            With thanks to Rowan Pelling


                  Those who have never suffered through Kafka
                  Should not employ the adjective “Kafkaesque” -
                  The landgraf would not approve


When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning
from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed
in his bed into a monstrous self-service checkout kiosk.

Someone must have traduced Joseph K.,
for without doing anything wrong
he was arrested in the checkout line
one fine morning

It was late in the evening when
the supermarket supervisor arrived.


Kafka, The Metamorphosis. Trans. Stanley Corngold. New York: Norton. 1972

Kafka, The Trial. Trans. Willa and Edwin Muir. New York: The Modern Library. 1956

Kafka, The Castle. Trans. Willa and Edwin Muir. New York: Schocken. 1982

The hell of self-service checkouts is becoming Kafkaesque (yahoo.com)
Because, like, y'know, Kafka is, like, you know, intellectual and stuff.
Lawrence Hall Nov 2020
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                   Keats Helps Carry a Cat to the Veterinarian

          [I]f Poetry comes not as naturally as the Leaves to a tree
                                 it had better not come at all

             -John Keats, Letter to John Taylor, February 27, 1818 1

The leaves come naturally from the trees today
As autumn floats away, onto the pages of life
Memories set down, one word at a time
Or phrases scribbled in heart-leaping haste

But in humility the poor poet perceives
That lines often don’t come naturally at all
Resisting as fiercely as hissing cats
Being crated for a trip to the vet

No

Poetry doesn’t come as easily as all that -
Come, Mr. Keats, and help me with this cat!


1 John Keats – "Keats's Axioms" -- Letter to John Taylor, February 27, 1818 | Genius
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

               Keep a Sharp Lookout – This Fog Won’t Last

           My country was made for noble hearts such as yours.

                       -Aslan in Voyage of the Dawn Treader

When we can’t turn outward, we turn inward
That might not be such a good thing, you know
We are probably out-of-practice, busied
With meetings and work and coffee-shop dates

For now our lives are solitude and screens
Pajama feet and emptiness, and if
We call someone, who is it who answers us?
“Be still, and know that I am Internet?”

Oh, no. The night is misty indeed, but the stars -
The stars still shine; be brave, and look for them
Courage.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2019
A Field Guide to Awkward Silences
The Norton Field Guide to Writing with Readings
A Field Guide to Secure Wi-Fi
A Field Guide to Asset Forfeiture
A Field Guide to “Fake News”
A Field Guide to Lies
A Field Guide to Antibiotic Stewardship in Outpatient Settings
A Field Guide to the Italian New Right
A Field Guide to Getting Lost
A Field Guide to Ripple Effects Mapping
A Field Guide to ****** and Fly Fishing
A Field Guide to Jerks at Work
A Field Guide to Bad Faith Arguments

And so it field guides, and so it field guides
As dear old Kurt Vonnegut did not say
And what field is the writer talking about?
About the farmer outstanding in his field?

Alas there is no field guide to writing
A title blessedly free of field guide
Which would be a feel-good fieldless guideless
For which humanity would be grateful

About as original as Keep Calm
Keep Calm and Say Something Original
Let the last field guide be Keep Calm about
A Field Guide to Burying Tired Cliches’
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 2022
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 Jul 2023
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                       Keyboard Combatants

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

                -anonymous; dates as early as the American Civil War

Pitching war metaphors toward a people
Who don’t understand metaphors or war
Does not promote prudent self-government
Or peace
                 Only bullhorns and misspelt signs
Lawrence Hall Sep 2019
“...Uncertain Circumstances”

                  In re John Cornford, 1936

One of the many bad things about being
A fervent Communist organizer is
That pretty soon some other Communists
Organize you
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 Oct 2022
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                            The King is the King by the Grace of God

The King is the King by the Grace of God
Prime ministers are chosen by party caucus
The King reigns in dignity with sceptre and rod
And Parliament is useless and greedy and raucous
Lawrence Hall Feb 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                   Kissing Trump's Ring

A certain clarity of thought is missing -
It’s not his ring that the servile are kissing
Lawrence Hall Jul 2022
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                   Kleenex Goes in the Top, Right-Hand Drawer

They don’t talk about Kleenex in teacher-prep
But it is an essential for adolescent tears
The hissings of mean girls, heartbreak, mis-matched socks
The deaths of schoolmates

Kleenex goes in the top, right-hand drawer
Immediately to hand when the world goes wrong
Rejections, failing a test, no date for the prom
The deaths of schoolmates

Kleenex goes in the top, right-hand drawer
Sometimes it’s all you have
Lawrence Hall Apr 15
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                        “Ladies…or Should I say Astronauts…”

                                         -as heard on the CBC

Shriek! Cackle! Giggle! Omigod! Ohmigoddess! Omigod! Omigod! I can’t believe what I’m seeing! Omigod! Omigoddess! Shriek! Cackle! Omigod! Omigod! Giggle! Omigod! I can’t believe what I’m seeing! Giggle! Omigod! Shriek! Cackle! Omigod! Omigod! That’s our pink moon! Omigod! I can’t believe what I’m seeing! Ohmigoddess! Giggle! Shriek! Cackle! Omigod! Omigod! Omigoddess! I can’t believe what I’m seeing! Shriek! Cackle! Omigodess! Omigod! Omigod! I can’t believe what I’m seeing! Shriek! Cackle! Giggle! Omigod! Omigod! Omigod! I can’t believe what I’m seeing! Omigod! Shriek! Cackle! Omigoddess! Omigod! Omigod! Giggle! Omigod! I can’t believe what I’m seeing! Giggle! Omigod! Shriek! Cackle! Omigod! Omigod! Omigod! I can’t believe what I’m seeing! Giggle! Shriek! Cackle! Omigod! Omigodess! Omigod! I can’t believe what I’m seeing! Shriek! Cackle! Omigod! Omigod! Omigoddess! I can’t believe what I’m seeing!
Lawrence Hall Mar 2017
Lady Day

And now comes Lady Day, a new year’s day
When happier hours to summering begin
And farmers follow their ploughs among new fields
While in the hedgerows early snowdrops bloom

Old debts are settled, new agreements made
And the oldest promise of all proves True
On this the day of the Annunciation
As spring comes early in Galilee, and here

And all because our Lady said yes to Life
On this our Lady’s day, a new year’s day
Feast of the Annunciation
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                    Lady Macbeth and a Luna Moth

A luna moth is elegant in her green
Like Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth
Beautiful and yet somehow sinister
Those wing’ed eyes – they seem to look at us

Eyes

That measure you for a dagger or a cup
She clings to a lichened brick wall at night
Wings pulsing against that wall, waiting, waiting…
Suddenly wild flutterings as she flees into the dark!

Exit, pursued by a cat
Lawrence Hall Aug 2019
Okay, yeah, sure, a little domestic strife
A resume written with a big ol’ knife
But if you want to get ahead in life
Even a king should listen to his wife
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 Oct 2020
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                     Lady Macbeth’s Cat

                    Letting “I dare not” wait upon “I would”

                                      -Macbeth I.vii.48

Lady Macbeth wrangled with Macbeth during dinner
At cross purposes outside the banqueting hall
A privy conference as to who was the worse sinner
She thought him weak; he, that she was full of gall

She wanted one thing, and he another
He yelled that she was unreasonable and demanding
She screamed that he never liked her mother
And on and on, outside on the landing

The argument was about, as it came to pass,
What dress she should wear to the king’s funeral mass

Afterword:

Oh, and that’s all to the story, no more than that;
She had little to say about the cat
A poem is itself. So is a cat.
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                     “LA Fires Bring Art to a Halt”

                 Hyperallergic: Sensitive to Art and Its Discontents


No.

A fire brings nothing to a halt

To the last respiration of the very last soul
And beyond: Art will live because Art lives -

A poet abandoning her car to flee for her life
Holds to her heart her notebooks in a grocery-store bag

To the last respiration of the very last soul
And beyond: Art will live because Art lives

A trumpeter manages to save the mouthpiece at least
While carrying his child out to an ambulance

To the last respiration of the very last soul
And beyond: Art will live because Art lives

A sculptor’s eyes record a wall of windows
To be re-molded as life-filled windows of dreams

To the last respiration of the very last soul
And beyond: Art will live because Art lives:

Firefighters wrestling a hose through smoke and heat
Are a choreograph of life against flaming death

To the last respiration of the very last soul
And beyond: Art will live because Art lives

An artist whose studio is now but smoke
Will stir ashes and water, and paint again

To the last respiration of the very last soul
And beyond: Art will live because Art lives

A little girl will write of her little dog
Her bestest pal whom she never saw again

To the last respiration of the very last soul
And beyond: Art will live because Art lives

In a shelter tonight an aging man
Will sing to himself the love songs of his youth

To the last respiration of the very last soul
And beyond: Art will live because Art lives



                                                        ­       then patch

                    a few words together and don’t try
                    to make them elaborate, this isn’t
                    a contest but the doorway

                                   -Mary Oliver, “Praying”
Lawrence Hall May 2019
“Please remove everything from your pockets
And place them in this little tray (NOW, please)

Which we will then pass around to strange people
Without you being able to see who they are.”

“Will all merlot-class diners please line up
At the door while we verify your existence?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but your meal will be delayed
For about two hours. Would you like some water?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but your meal will be delayed
While our maintenance team works on the grill.”

“I’m sorry, miss, but your meal will be delayed
While our maintenance team repairs the oven vents.”

“Yes, the breakfast special is $7.95
But there is a $10 surcharge for the plate.”

“We are sorry, miss, but it appears that
Your silverware has been re-routed to Denny’s.”

“We find that seating twenty customers
At a four-foot table is more efficient.”

“We are having a little turbulence
In the kitchen; please fasten your seat belts.”

“For safety purposes, secure all ‘phones
And stow them until after the salad.”

“We ran out of entrees fourteen tables back.
There is no more coffee. Want a doughnut?”

“However, we have lots of *****
For the belligerent drunk behind you.”

“Thank you for dining with us this evening
(Yeah, yeah, like we even care about you).”
Most airline employees are wonderful, but those who aren't are certainly memorable in their indolence and insolence. I'm especially reminded of the Air Canada cabin attendant who was far more interested in her Harry Potter book than doing her job.  Her job seemed to consist mostly of snarling to passengers who asked about the coffee that ran out 14 rows before, and why all that was left for breakfast was an embalmed sticky bun.
Lawrence Hall Oct 2016
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

               Last Sunday after Pentecost

A calling-crow-cold sky ceilings the world,
Lowering the horizon to itself
All silvery and grey upon the fields
Of pale, exhausted, dry-corn-stalk summer

The earth is tired, the air is cold, the dawn
False-promises nothing but an early dusk
As calling-cold-crows crowd the world with noise,
Loud-gossiping from tree to ground to sky

Soon falling frosts and fields of ice will fold
Even those fell, foolish fowls into the depths
Of dark creek bottoms where dim ancient oaks
Hide darkling birds from wild blue northern winds

Crows squawk of Advent disapprovingly,
For Advent-autumn drifts to Christmastide
When all the good of the seasonal year
Then warms and charms the house, the hearth, the heart.
Lawrence Hall Oct 2017
Last Sunday after Pentecost

A calling-crow-cold sky ceilings the world,
Lowering the horizon to itself
All silvery and grey upon the fields
Of pale, exhausted, dry-corn-stalk summer

The earth is tired, the air is cold, the dawn
False-promises nothing but an early dusk
As calling-cold-crows crowd the world with noise,
Loud-gossiping from tree to ground to sky

Soon falling frosts and fields of ice will fold
Even those fell, foolish fowls into the depths
Of dark creek bottoms where dim ancient oaks
Hide darkling birds from wild blue northern winds

Crows squawk of Advent disapprovingly,
For Advent-autumn drifts to Christmastide
When all the good of the seasonal year
Then warms and charms the house, the hearth, the heart.
Lawrence Hall Nov 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                        Las Vegas, Geographically Speaking

                    Upon watching the 1960 Ocean’s Eleven

That oasis of Cool no longer exists
Except as road markers and artifacts
All else is gone: cigarette girls, ashtrays
Rotary telephones, Ford Galaxies

The glamour of cocktail dresses and tailored suits
Xanadu with electric lights and Scotch
Heliopolis with showgirls and cards
So Cool that no one ever called it Cool

And like those fragments of Ozymandias
All of that Cool is lost among the sands
Lost cities in the desert
Lawrence Hall Dec 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                          Late at Night on Christmas Eve

After breakfast with a friend
After setting up for a family luncheon
After a family luncheon that never seemed to end
After cleaning up after a family luncheon
(and that, too, never seemed to end)
After a moment of sitting and thinking with wife and child
After opening gifts (with dachshunds and cats)
After sharing gifts (with dachshunds and cats)
After keeping dachshunds and cats from eating the tree ornaments
After watching Judy Garland sing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”
After sitting exhausted with a therapeutic episode of The Office
You realize
The day wasn’t so bad
Lawrence Hall Jan 28
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                     Late January is a Time of Grey

I read a little in Billy Collins just now
Because Tolkien is in the other room
Along with the laundry and an unmade bed
Late January is a time of grey

I just want to sit with my coffee awhile
And then I’ll stow the laundry and make the bed
The dishwasher can remain silent until tomorrow
Late January is a time of grey

I was nibbled to death by ducks today
Because
Late January is a time of grey
Lawrence Hall Jul 10
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                        Laundry Day - The Solemnity of All Stains

The washing machine baptizes our busy days:
A shirt freshly stained with this morning’s coffee
Wrinkledy tees in grimy greens and greys
A child’s blue jeans all sticky with toffee

Dish towels we allowed to get old-food smelly
A nice dress sock on which the puppy peed
Blankies from the couch in front of the telly
The terry-cloth that toweled the shaving bleed

To the laundry room where all these wreckages convene
There to be made all fresh and bright and clean –
Thus
Let us give thanks for the washing machine!
Lawrence Hall Oct 2019
This past year's scribblings can be found (maybe - Google improved their Blogger so much that it doesn't format) at:

https://poeticdrivel.blogspot.com/

20 September 2020 - Google "updated" (cough) their Blogger to the point where it no longer works, so I am back here until this fails again.
Lawrence Hall Sep 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                     “Lawrence’s Apple Watch is Fully Charged”

Oh, sure, the MePhone is pleased to say that now
But long before the day spins down the watch
Percentages add up to little and so
I must find the magnetic sticky thing

The charger and the watch embrace with passion
You can almost see the electricity
That sparks their one-ness and their holy bond
Leaving my wrist empty and timeless for a time

“Lawrence’s Apple Watch is fully charged”
But reluctant to leave its charger for long
I love my Apple watch in every way except that it requires a recharge twice each day.
Lawrence Hall Sep 2016
Leafy Labor Day and Summer’s Last Dragon*

In a happier world, children this day,
Barefoot children, running about in play
Would pause now at the end of summer time -
New school supplies from the old five-and-dime

Write those first smudgy lines with a new ink-pen
For tomorrow the new school year takes in
And count their cedar pencils, one, two, three
Then out again to the Robin Hood tree

A wooden sword, and a dragon to slay
In a happier world, children this day

(Their Robin Hood wants to slay a dragon,
and so a wrathful dragon slain shall be;
Little children know best about these things)
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                               Learning to Comb Your Hair

Do you remember learning how to comb your hair?
Your mother had you look into the mirror
(What a handsome young man!)
And watch as she made magic with a comb

First, she chased all your hair forward and down
Until your eyebrows laughed for the fun of it
And then she chose an imaginary line
And parted the strands for the rest of the day

Hooray!

Do you remember learning how to comb your hair?
(Now in your mother’s memory send up a prayer)
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Feb 2024
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                Scary Men in the Streets at Night

They swagger into the convenience store
Sullen in their grotesque tats and shabby tees
Shaven heads, unshaven faces, gas-station shades
Old roach-stompers, unwashed jeans, bad-/ss bling

A big ol’ Glock .45 on every man’s hip
Manly-man Velcro tactical gear
Beer-guts rolling over their leather belts
More than a hint of menace in their eyes

These are our local deputies, of course -
Our criminals usually show a little more class


(There is no one I admire more than a proper copper, but until local governments provide better training, better pay, better backup, and meaningful benefits to our police we’re going to have to suffer the leather-boy Barneys.)
Lawrence Hall Jul 2023
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                        ­    Leaving the Party

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

                             -Lady Macbeth in III.iv.109-110

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

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

Screamed taunts that sting, a hive-like waspish buzz -
The party we leave is not the party that was
Lawrence Hall May 2022
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
Upon ceasing to identify with any political party.
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