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

                    The Moon is Setting in the West, And in the East...

Sun beam
Sun ray
First sun I see today
I wish I might
I wish I may
Have the wish I wish today


Cf. “Star Light, Star Bright,” a nursery rhyme of undetermined origin, dating to at least the 19th century.

~
A blood promise
On the threshing floor
--a strand named Skull of Sidon.

The sunset passage
No longer a place for them,
The acceptance of absolute negation
Remedios the beauty.

Saint Fishermen churn in the waves
Crushing grapes from the estate,
Even the girl with the silver eyes,
Only then will their house be blessed.

Women uncharted,
But prisoned on watery shore,
Hum a silent prayer.

This is atonement day,
May grace be with them
In all the days ahead.
~

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

                             Maybe Li Po was from East Texas?


                               I can remember when I
                               Was Li Po, and not Li Bai

                                    -as Li Po never said


He never drank Lone Star Beer
Wine-drunk, then, he craved a boon
A reflected kiss in the water near
A kiss from the amorous moon

Cf. 300 Tang Poems, Everyman Pocket Poets, Peter Harris ed. and trans.



The story of Li Po / Li Pai’s death has no real sourcing, but it is popular. A dude who gets drunk and drowns while trying to make out with the moon reflected in the water – definitely my people!

I played with the legend in a rhymed quatrain of seven syllables per line. I was sober. Really.

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

How to Respond Diplomatically to Those Who Want to Trap You into Saying Something Intemperate about Political Violence for Which They Will Denounce You on the InterGossip


          “We can’t go arresting people for what they say in a private
           conversation…I’ve no doubt that we shall come to that
           eventually, but in the present state of our struggle for
           freedom it just can’t be done.”

                        -Evelyn Waugh, Put Out More Flags



                        You have the right to remain silent

I am a student in Paris, a med-school freshman, one of the crowd.
This week is all introductions, orientation functions and instructions.
“Settle in, get your books, parking passes and find your classes.”
I got my ID - I’m a Vip in the bourgeoisie - does that look like me?

Freshmen join a ‘buddy program’ so things seem less hostile
I met my buddy last week, she’s the consummate boss - effortlessly busy.
She’s got my folder (oh my), full of check-lists. I’ve yet to see her smile.
She’s a third year, from Chamonix, a town in the jagged Alps, near Italy.

If you want me, right after classes, I’ll be at Les Deux Parisiens,
a shaded coffee shop across from school that feels like a garden.
They have everything - from coffee to pizza and martinis - it’s awesome.
For 17€ : try the ‘La Campione,’ pizza with beef and chorizo (sausage)

I am a student in the misty rain, stepping carefully on cobblestones
- they pool water geometrically - I’m heading home (6 Av.) walking alone.
Nothing’s still, classes end at noon - it’s the city, sidewalk’s are full, Ubers uber, mopeds mope, bikers bike, people scatter, umbrellaless commuters.

I haven’t made any new friends yet - I’m not worried - I’m just beginning.
.
.
Songs for this:
Day Tripper by MonaLisa Twins
Café Europa by Quadro Nuevo
Count Contessa by Azealia Banks & Lone [E]
Robinson Crusoe by Art of Noise

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
                                              
                                                Ever England

                                   For The Battle of Britain Day

Brave Hurricanes and Spits still claw and climb
Far up into the English summer sky
At the lingering end of a golden time
As wild young lads and aging empires die

The Hood and the Rodney still the Channel guard
Against the strident Men of Destiny
Then shellfire falls; the helm is over hard
But the brave old ships keep the Narrow Sea

Dear Grandpa and the boys sport thin tin hats
In Sunday afternoon’s invasion drill
Gram says he’s too ****** old for all of that
But she too smells the smoke of Abbeville

Faith does not pass with ephemeral time:
Brave Hurricanes and Spits still claw and climb



Previously published some years ago in longbowsandrosarybeads.blogspot.com before that delightful site was taken over and renamed by Gringottsy grouches and grinches and grumps.

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office



                A Child Asked me a Reasonable Question about God



A child -



She asked of me

One day, you see

A question wise

For one her size



It wasn’t odd:

“I believe in God

But then does He

Believe in me?

Life is stacking boxes,
Keeping your head on straight, Soldier -
Top of your shoulders.
Whatever Perfection is
the Average will do just great
When finally you get to that place...
The Long Haul is over.

Looking back and seeing the climb,
All the people and faces
Are just Time exposures - That's okay, Soldier.
And it's okay now, to bask in the applause,
Take the bows and be center-stage,
Dare the spotlight, stop turning the pages...
The Long Haul is over.

There are always moments
When a joke is Not the answer,
But we choose it anyway
For the craic and for the banter.
Put that change in your pocket now, Soldier
Leave the Bar and walk quietly away...
The Long Haul is over.

A pint of Guinness for a Tune,
A Poem, or a Story for the ever after?
This Life is never a journey,
This Death is not a closure, but
There are only so many hours in a day, so
No, no more stacking boxes today, Soldier...
The Long Haul is over.