In Dublin in December I sat
on a shore bench in Sandymount

& watched thunderheads strut
on stork legs of raking rain while

bullish boats trundled through
with taut cheeks sobbed with rime.

My heart was full of weeks of doubt,
I'd flown in on a night plane

aching with the knowing
that something was badly turned,

distance could no longer be borne,
all the miles within and without.

We drank, coupled, and confessed
through long, long nights as outside

the high open window the stars
sloughed their waffling shine into

the many arms of the river, and gulls
eavesdropped on desperate sins.

By day she showed me her city
of castles and secret gardens,

elephant bones and electric trees,
& quietly urged me to join her.

As we crossed Beckett bridge
to seek troubled love on her couch

we pierced a cold and hanging fog,
prehaunted by the loss that followed.

wind through the willows.

bird song trilling
from where time is the silence
falling into the valley.

sunlight beneath the leaves.
the grass bends from where you lay.
foxglove gentle and blooming in your eyes.

each step
slow and certain.
i fall into your open arms.

love rests here, among the moss and mist.
the trees, the sky, the flowers
know our first kiss.

and the wind through the trees  
whistles every mystery gone.

we sigh the words we were always meant to say.

clouds may wander blue sky
but love stays
sure and stubborn
pressing white petals always in our hearts.

Talented young poets are in short supply,
So what shame it is to see a talent die.
I see the sparkle fade,
Disenchanted by doubt.
Please keep writing,
We are in need.

1.  Don't write when you're tired.
2. If you must, don't write things you'll regret.
3. Don't treat a serious feeling as a joke.
4. Think fourteen plus times before saying/doing anything.
5. Be available for anything.
6. Only risk what you're willing to lose.
7. Risk only to gain.
8. If you don't think it'll be enjoyed, don't do it at all.
9. Fix problems with more than, "I'm sorry."
10. Please don't write when your tired.

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                        My Bestest Friend in the Whole First Grade


                                            For Rodney Joe Webb
                                               of happy memory


Our fathers’ farms were across the road from each other
We rode the big yaller feller to school
After the morning milking: Run! Run! We’ll be late!
And back again for the evening milking

We knew all sorts of stuff about battleships
And that Roy Rogers was better than Gene Autry
Chevy or Ford, and America could never be licked
Robin Hood and the biggest fish in the pond

The farms are long gone, and the fields of hay –
I went to his visitation today

my love for you
is a boomerang.
I aim for your heart
but nobody taught me
how to throw.
I release.
who knows if it's coming back.