#narnia
a bedtime story,
magic,
laughter.
that was what i hoped love would be.
an escape from the troubles of life,
happiness,
kisses.
that was what our love was.
until i stopped believing.
in you,
in those fabled wardrobe doors,
in narnia.
and so i'm stuck,
left out of our magic
like susan,
because i let doubt prevail.
and for that,
i am truly sorry.
Dec 11, 2025
Dec 11, 2025 at 5:04 AM UTC
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]
Tropes, Dopes, Middle-Earth, and Culture Worriers
I am not clear as to what you intend by arisch. I am not of
Aryan extraction: that is Indo-Iranian; as far as I am aware
none of my ancestors spoke Hindustani, Persian, Gypsy, or
any related dialects. But if I am to understand that you are
enquiring whether I am of Jewish origin, I can only reply that I
regret that I appear to have no ancestors of that gifted people.
-Tolkien, from a letter rebuking a German publisher, 1938
One does not imagine Tolkien schlubbing about
In a garish cartoon tee and baggy shorts
A Glock strapped to his 50-inch waist
Shopping the dollar store in a Trumpy cap
One does not imagine Lewis following QAnon
Encouraging Peter to take an AR to Latin class
Or quartering the Cross of good Saint George
With a swastika’s spidering wheel of shame
Not all evil comes from outside the Shire –
Sometimes evil is our own internal desire
On the time J.R.R. Tolkien refused to work with Nazi-leaning publishers. ‹ Literary Hub (lithub.com)
Why does Lord of the Rings appeal to the radical right? – The Irish Times
Behind the Catholic Right’s Celebrity-Conversion Industrial Complex | Vanity Fair
Sep 11, 2024
Sep 11, 2024 at 2:02 PM UTC
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
More Real and More Beautiful
“This is still Narnia, and more real and more beautiful than
the Narnia down below, just as it was more real and more
beautiful than the Narnia outside the stable door!”
-Lucy in C. S. Lewis’ The Last Battle
More of the old family land is to be sold off
Forests of my childhood and happy fields
Where breezes still ripple the summer grass
Soon to be beaten and carved as lots and plots
The bales of hay, each barefoot day – all lost
And down the hill where runs a magic rill
My Sherwood Forest will be cleared of good trees
Its dreaming paths overlaid with sewers and streets
And along the fence little tufts of grass
Where all those noble dogs of long ago lie buried
My companions in all adventures
Awaiting my whistle to roam with me again
Well, I will pack them and all my childhood up -
And someday pour them from a golden Cup
Feb 18, 2022
Feb 18, 2022 at 9:36 PM UTC
Hurry up come quick and gather around, before I change my mind
To unfold the path of a tale unsung that belongs to the wizard kind.
Fetch your warmest sweaters or robes, and perhaps an extra cloak
For I heard that it is chilly inside, the enchanted timber wardrobe.
Behind the rags and hung up clothes, a luminous lamp post glows,
Turning the frosty floor beneath, into shiny velvet pillows.
One can only stare in awe, at the realm that looks serene
But not for long as soon enough, your journey will truly begin.
Be cautious and be wary of the ones you tumble upon,
Could it be a ****** or is it a fox? or a cozen witch paragon?
Pace your way through frozen rains until you reach the end,
Latch on to the red lion skin, do your damnedest to defend.
Myriad wonders of a world unknown, covered by wooden doors
Do you wish to leave or would you explore? The gamble is all yours.
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 5:18 AM UTC
The injured king comes to his feet, bewildered that he's been healed. His baby sister, one who is destined not to fight, saved his life. But not by herself, no. Behind her, with proud eyes, are not only his other siblings, but the mighty High King of all of Narnia. The lion who told the siblings they were special.
The lion, a great and honorable beast, came at the most opportune time. When the army needed his help the most, when there was almost no hope left, he came.
Around the children and the great lion, the army of Narnia breaks into cheers, happy to know that the long winter is over. The witch, who was as pale as snow itself, was no more. Her presence all but banished to a dark and forbidden place.
As soon as the battle was won, the army was made clean from their battle scars, the children were rewarded with a gift. As long as they lived; they would be the kings and queens of this wild, yet beautiful land.
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 8:49 AM UTC
With your sword raised high and body ready for battle, how could I not follow you? A spirited leader, in such a young boy. His every decision backed by the ever present lord of the realm.
But we are scared, even with such brave leaders. Against a mighty foe we will face. A powerful witch; as pale as snow and as cunning as a fox. Her mighty powers put fear in the depths of many and few have the courage to stand against her.
The brave young leader; his wild, blonde hair whipping in the wind... he is not afraid. He is willing to fight for those he loves and even fight for those he has never met. Anger, sadness, determination is set in his eyes. We will not lose, he says, for evil cannot reign forever.
With brave howls and saddened screams, we run towards our enemies, knowing full-well some of us will not make it back alive. But to know that we have fought a fair fight to protect those we love, is worth the price.
Nov 10, 2019
Nov 10, 2019 at 11:33 AM UTC
Poetry is a closet.
It’s a hideaway for some
An escape for others
A road to get out of town
You can spill your darkest secrets without the fear of another knowing
In the darkness, you feel safe
Maybe it’s your way to Narnia
Or whatever other enchanted lands you want to visit
Poetry could even be your way to escape the closet
Telling people your secrets in cryptic ways they can’t understand
The darkness hides you from the judgment of others
You can write in peace
And the only person who can unlock the door is you
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 7:39 PM UTC
You need to change
You know it's true
But it's beyond
What you can do
But don't give up
Though you've tried and failed
Because God can take
Your dragon scales
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 7:44 PM UTC
I get so mad knowing you will never understand what I see.
You can’t see the pain,
the memories,
or the people who make up these images.
My mind works in such an otherworldly way,
I wish it wasn’t so far away.
I wish I could just share it with the world.
Even if the vulnerability hurt me, it’d be worth it to be less lonely.
All my thoughts could be appreciated,
and in their own light,
to the right people only.
I think in sentiment, so the clues of the portraits I create,
would communicate in clear secrecy, the truth they bear about me.
This unimaginable beauty,
that even I only see in glimpses,
would maybe a have a place,
could maybe be hung in a museum,
sold in an auction,
stolen for its value,
fought for to save.
It’s infinite.
the stream, the river, the trees, the forest,,,
the undetected particles in the air glowing in the ray of gold squeezed between the canopy from the sun,
the world of green and blue underneath the repetitive streaming and complicated designs that carry rainbow colored fish,
even just the emptiness of sound at the precipice before the greatest vastest canyons of our earth...
You can’t dare to frame a single one of these without spending every medium you can find.
And now I think I get it:
Art cannot contain the beauty we see and feel,
It is meant to be a crack of a window to the inside of what's real.
Art borrows a pinch of the beauty to show the others a glimpse to awe at,
And if successful, that small crack may bring one into the glory of it all someday.
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 5:25 PM UTC
the world
of course she didn't expect it to be small at all but it helps with the feeling of being able to breathe something other than London air and guilt
that's the strangest feeling in the end of all things and accompanies her like a dog during errands and hobbies and nights out curling in her lap in the dark of a too empty living room
you look so much like your mother
a generation can see a moment of a womb misplaced, a misstep in spring dances and the smell of grass and the feeling of white stone walls
dignitaries never expected a star to come from your brother's wife first
daughter of this not-eve never-eve
remember the ache in your own heart at your sister's cries
back arched like the curve of your bow
spine click and bones moving
organs
and another piece of the girl in old shoes by a lamppost spills out into their wardrobe world
you look nothing like your mother
not a queen but a body of two syllables heavy with teeth behind
red lips
she wears disappointment like lipstick and air and London fog
be magnificent
be just
be valiant
but gentle is only a slap in the face
and even God couldn't stop a war
a letter
a train
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 1:07 AM UTC
No wardrobe, no rabbit hole do I need
If it is to escape this world I look....
I just go to the library and read,
Where I can escape in a world of books.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 6:10 AM UTC
I'm so sorry
that I wrecked your car
trying to find
where the wild things are
I'm so disappointed
that my closet has a back
instead of Narnia
just some cold weather tack
I'm so hurt
that Middle Earth can't be explored
and the rolling hills
don't have little round doors
I'm so stricken
with the painful ail
that my reality
can't be my fairytale
Why is it
that someone else
got to decide this for me
instead of myself?
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 10:25 AM UTC
A boy born into royalty
Destined to rule over a great kingdom
But sent away by one with ill will for the kingdom
To be killed in a shipwreck
And leave a kingdom without their prince
But a lion pushed the boy in the wreckage to shore
Where a man stood wakeful at night
And took the boy in, giving him life
The man abused the boy in many ways
And the future ruler would leave to rule his kingdom
The boy had always wanted to go North
As if there were something good to the North
Something drawing him to the mountains and rivers
As he had northern blood flowing through his veins
So 'Onward and upward, to Narnia and the North!'
The boy fled his home on the back of a talking horse
Escaping the abusive nature of his supposed-father
To the north where he was meant to be, they fled
From the south the life he was fleeing from
His destined kingdom lying in this northern land to which he travelled
On horseback he rides in a forest
Before hearing the sounds of another horse
And then seeing the sights of another rider
Terrified the horse pulls forward
Then a wild animal gives its mighty roar
Hearing the roar of a mighty lion
The riders and horses go on running from this terror
Until they are united, together in their travels
Then the lion disappears into the mist of the forest
And the travelers, a boy and a girl, and two horses now travel to the north together
The boy stranded in the desert
Away from all things he had known
Without his horse or traveling companions
Without any water to quench his thirst
And he spends the night alone in the dark desert
There on the desert ground, terrified he laid
For behind him stood tombs of the kings of old
And to his forefront laid the desert
He imagined ghosts and ghouls that might come from the tombs
And terrified he laid, there on the desert ground
Then a kitten came to his side
The cat came und nuzzled behind the sleeping boy
It kept him warm through the cold desert night
The boy felt safe with the kitten by his side
As if no one or no thing could possibly harm him
As he slept, he heard the sound of jackals howling in the desert
The boy became fearful once he noticed the absence of the cat
Yet it was at this time that he heard the mighty roar of a lion
And the lions roar made him even more fearful than he was before
But then the howling of the jackals ceased and he was safe
He awoke again later in the night to the cat by his side
The cat comforted him in his loneliness
And kept him warm in the desert night
When it needed to, the cat became a lion and defended the boy
For the lion always wanted what was best for that boy
Then the four travelers ventured north across the desert
Racing against time, and against enemy armies
To get to the kingdom in the north on time to warn the king
But like any desert travelers, they quickly tired
And they required one final push
A lion's roar cams out of the silence of nature
And very quickly the horses sped up to leave the lion's reach
But to no avail as the lion gashed at one of the riders
The terror of the horses propelled them forward
And they made it in time to save the kingdom
The boy was reunited with his father, the king
And he himself became a king when it came high time
The boy married the girl, and became king and queen of the country in the north
For the Lion and the Kitten led them to the north, and to their salvation
Even when they did not know the Lion at all
The Lion is Jesus Christ, God Himself in the flesh
He came to save the boy, and his horse
And his wife and her horse
He came as a fierce lion to redirect
And as a kitten to comfort
He came as a lion to defend
And as a kitten to protect
Jesus Christ came to men
He came as a helpless fetus and infant
And as a small child
He came as a man to teach
And as a man to die
Jesus is fierce when needed
And gracious when needed
For He loves His children
And will not let His children stray far from Him
For much good is to come for the Children of God
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC
Različite vizije
u istom spektru riječi
Gaslo ulično svjetlo
i ljupka narnijska lampa
Obasuti bijelim pahuljama
i zagrljeni crnilom noći
U pratnji borova
ili uličnog pločnika
S obzorom grada
ili netaknute prirode
Isti spektar riječi
Sličan spektar boja
Ali različite oči
Različito zrcale
Istih slova zvuk.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 1:52 PM UTC
Another beloved strides out of my life.
Some smoker pauses
head bent over their cigarette
matchstick poised to flare and shimmy under
streetlight
but the waiting moment stretches
infinitely
With sweet shock I realise there is a breeze
playing around us both
made suddenly material
in the space/ the pause between
spark and fulfillment
Then can we wonder how things unseen
or only felt
become visible when
inconvenient
Yearning
for the moment
pressed somewhere into the weft of my childhood
Aslan smiling
-if lions can smile-
when three small British children find out
that they need never leave Narnia again.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC