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Lawrence Hall Nov 2020
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                Theol­ogy of the Garden Bench

God’s good, green earth is holy, and must be reverenced
As an act of His Creation, a work of His hands
And of His breath, His singing into being
This glorious epiphany in which we live

Our little children live close upon the earth
Laughing and tumbling through the summer grass
With kittens and puppies as their happy playmates
Sweet Eden’s innocence echoed in them all

And we with our weary, creaky old bones
Repose like royalty on an old wooden bench

And give thanks
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Nov 2020
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

       What Were You Doing When the World Changed Forever?

The world will change today – that is a cinch
Newspaper drama by the column inch
The vote count is over; we’ve come to the clinch

And I, in peace – I built a garden bench
A poem is itself. And a garden bench is a nice little part of civilization.
Lawrence Hall Nov 2020
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

               Someone Said There’s an Election Going Around

            In much work there shall be abundance: but where
              there are many words, there is oftentimes want.

                                        -Proverbs 14:23

This autumn morning I have a fence to mend
Fence. As in fence. Concrete footings, wooden planks
The rotten bits to be cut out and replaced
No metaphors will be harmed in this repair

Later I will harvest the last of the sunflowers
Drooping now in the fullness of life’s end
No longer following the sun, only the earth
Soon to be seeds for the winter squirrels and birds

Someone said there’s an election going around
Fine, fine, but the grapevines need pruning down
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Nov 2020
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                The Staff Cafeteria at the Lubyanka

Spaghetti again?

A busy day in the cellar.  Admin
Wants more cells cleared for Lenin’s birthday bash
They come along okay until we pass the offices
And then they know. Some of them cry. It’s rough

Put it on my tab

It’s pretty rough upstairs, too, meeting your quota
Of counter-revolutionaries and recidivists
You just drag them downstairs and then shoot them
Easy-peasey for you, but the paperwork…!

Two cups of tea

Shop-talk and gossip, who got a promotion
Budgets and schedules, and comradely devotion
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Oct 2020
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                  On the Opening of Words

I love to open words, and so do you:
Old words growled by our fathers in the fens
Smooth words polished on the tables of the Law
Neologisms laughed into being over beer

Words cadenced on the ****** fields of Mars
Words whispered on the perfumed pillows of Venus
Words prayed around the Altar of our God
Words breathed in pain on the last day of all

I love to open words, and so do you
Our words, our holy words, both old and new
A poem is itself.
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 Oct 2020
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                Supervising Elections in an Underdeveloped Nation

It well may be that civilized nations
Will send us soldiers to patrol our rubbled streets
And at each poll post tanks and squads of men
To ensure that our elections are fair

Their soldiers will pat our children on their heads
And give them chocolate bars and chewing gum
While practicing their Americanese from little books:
“Where is please coffee shop thank you we are friends”

And propping up each mayor and governor here
A sturdy German, Pole, or Czech will stand
                                                           (and sneer)
https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/politics/justice-dept-fbi-planning-for-the-possibility-of-election-day-violence-voting-disruptions/ar-BB19E6tq?li=BBnbfcL
Lawrence Hall Oct 2020
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                            If You Sing a Song and No One Hears It

If you sing a song and no one hears it
          The song is heard
If you write a poem and no one reads it
          The poem is read
If you draw a picture and no one sees it
          The picture is seen
If you read a book and no one knows it
          The book is known
If you speak of love, and there is no love –
          Oh, yes, there is

When you give something to the universe
It was given to you first
And you have kindly sent it on
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Sep 2020
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

To Wish Upon a Star

To wish upon a star is right enough
For maybe it can make your dreams come true
But do remember this when things are rough:
Maybe that star is wishing upon you
Lawrence Hall Sep 2020
He Has it All - 1

An entire floor of a building he owns
The Great Room illuminated by soft lights
A perfect fireplace row of red oak flames
Beneath a mantel of carven German work

One wall is paneled with leatherbound great books
The seatings are a find from Finland last year
Champagne is set out in Romanov crystal flutes
His guests in evening wear wait silently

And as he is rolled away in funeral home wraps
His family are scrambling for the scraps


He Has it All - 2

An entire bunk in a shabby rented room
Illuminated by a dangling bare bulb
His plastic coffee mug, a sink full of dishes
Beneath a dusty window on the alley

A plywood shelf bears a television for cheap
From Goodwill, illegally wired to the cable
After pocketing his pal’s pocketknife
His roommate waits silently, and weeps

A pack of cigarettes, a Bic, a comb
And angels vying for the honor of bearing him Home

— The End —