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Lawrence Hall Mar 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                               Poetry as a Form of Prayer

               (not an original observation, but let it stand)

Poetry is like prayer
A lifetime of study
and a study of life

You never get it right
The only miracle
is that you get it at all
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Mar 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                I was Hangin' with Miss Marple Last Week

         “I think, my dear, we won't talk any more about ******
                     during tea.  Such an unpleasant subject.”

                                 -4:50 from Paddington

I visited Miss Marple this past week
In her little home in St. Mary Mead
Fluffy in her appearance and pink of cheek
Troweling with vehemence another garden ****

Kindness itself, she asked me to sit down
On a wooden bench near the hollyhock
A warm soft evening with the bees around
And the hourly chime from the old church clock

Tea and scandal at four, soft-scented soap –

     And in Pentonville, forlorn of any hope

A murderer awaiting the hangman’s rope
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Mar 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                 Hey, I Really am a Neanderthal!

The spit-into-a-cup DNA folks
Advise me that 742 strands
Of vintage Neanderthal DNA
Are roaming loose in the tunnels of my being

It’s good to be descended from a fine old family
Maybe that’s why my ideas drag the ground
As I lope along following the science
Live chicken tastes a lot like rattlesnake

Why don’t you join me for dinner with the neighbors?
Their brains will go well with hyena blood
Do Neanderthals scan for blank verse?
Lawrence Hall Mar 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                              Select All Images with Traffic Lights

When the ink on his Gospel had barely dried
Saint Matthew was interrupted by angelic sights
And then to him a Voice from Heaven cried:
“Select all images with traffic lights!”

Old William Shakespeare was a poetic bloke
Who wrote his metered verse within the lines
But his editor demanded, with a voice that broke:
“Select all images with highway signs!”

So if, dear reader, you wish to have your say -
Forget it; you won’t pass the test anyway
Prove to me that I'm not a robot...Danger, Will Robinson!
Lawrence Hall Mar 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                              Grandpa and the Kid

Grandpa gives his boy a toy truck
Or better yet a clanking army tank
Or maybe a plastic shovel and pail
Or a real Roy Rogers cowboy hat

And the little boy’s hovering mother clucks:
“Now what do you say to Grandpa? Tell me!
Say to Grandpa “Thank you.” We say “Thank you!”
No, don’t just run away; say “Thank you!”

[Extended Form for Certain Feasts and Seasons:

“Now what do you say to Grandpa? Tell me! Say to Grandpa “Thank you.” We say “Thank you!” No, don’t just run away; say “Thank you!” “Now what do you say to Grandpa? Tell me! Say to Grandpa “Thank you.” We say “Thank you!” No, don’t just run away; say “Thank you!” “Now what do you say to Grandpa? Tell me! Say to Grandpa “Thank you.” We say “Thank you!” No, don’t just run away; say “Thank you!” “Now what do you say to Grandpa? Tell me! Say to Grandpa “Thank you.” We say “Thank you!” No, don’t just run away; say “Thank you!” Amen.]

And Grandpa smiles and lights his favorite pipe
(His daughter rolls her disapproving eyes)
She sees tonight’s bath in the sand and grass
But Grandpa sees beyond this time and place

His boy builds a road, a fort, a castle, a corral
And Grandpa thanks God for his little pal
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Mar 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                    Penguin-Random House Sends me a Survey
                    and Then Rules Me Unqualified to Respond

Survey Completed - Thank You / We're sorry.
You do not meet the qualifications
for this survey. We sincerely thank you
and appreciate your time and participation

You will be redirected in 3 seconds;
please click here to continue now.
Poetry is where you find it.
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 Mar 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                    Try to Look Like a Young Republican

Whenever a student told me of his night in jail
And that he had to go to court next week
I always suggested that he wear his church suit
Or at least a new white shirt and a tie

“Try to look like a young Republican,”
Was my advice
                               But I got over it
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Mar 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                      When We Played Chase with Dust Devils

Long, long ago dust devils spun across
Our childhood playground where the school used to be
And we played chase with them across the sand
As they whipped up dry earth and long-dead leaves

They were a little scary in their speed
The way they funneled and circled around us
Malignant faces that appeared for moments
And disappeared again – surely only dust?

I didn’t think they meant us any harm
But looking back just now - I’m not so sure
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Mar 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                           A Cold Call from the Hearing-Aid Place

A cold call from the hearing-aid place
I heard the young nice lady perfectly
I'd much rather hear the horns of Elfland.
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