#oxford
You never got to see me in that dress
Or walk through the Covered Market
We never got to toast at the top of Varsity
About how we made it through the year
And it would only get better now
No boarding gate coffees
Holiday count downs
Or Christmas trees
No more early morning greetings
Late night calls
I didn't get to kiss you one last time
Or say a proper goodbye
All these potential memories
Will keep living with me
And I worry I'll never be the same again
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 12:26 PM UTC
outside, the cold air
unwraps my skin.
i’m listening to a friend
tell us a story
that feels rehearsed,
meant to impress
but all i can think about
how sweet my drink is
and the length of that girl’s dress
across the street.
then i see him —
half-familiar, waving.
i don’t remember his name,
but he does me,
goes on about
jobs he’s changed
and the old team.
i’m the only one left.
he asks if life
is treating me well.
i nod.
he asks if i’m happy.
i look down,
searching for the answer
between cigarette ash
and concrete.
“if you need to think about it,”
he says,
“you’re not.”
his words stay with me
for the rest of the night,
then the week,
then the month.
Sep 16, 2025
Sep 16, 2025 at 11:24 AM UTC
i don’t think i’ve ever been
more in love with a city
than i was with you.
it’s inexplicable.
the more i see
this spirit of community,
of togetherness
where i live now,
the more i miss my real home.
it might be another country,
but you took me in,
held me like your own.
one hundred
and sixty thousand people,
yet it was always one:
the date whose flatmate
played in my favourite band,
the pub where a singer walked in
and we had to act cool,
even with fifty strangers, once,
crammed into a living room.
you were secret codes
and piano bars,
ropes above the thames,
carnivals and day festivals.
meeting someone,
and keeping them forever.
it was never just work.
it was passageways, and talent
rising like ivy through stone,
having the world
at my fingertips
as though sitting on a throne
without having a clue.
but i still did
what i thought i should,
and found myself alive
in the whole of you.
Aug 31, 2025
Aug 31, 2025 at 6:43 PM UTC
The river gathers
To squeeze
Its swollen flanks through
This narrow, peopled place
In flood, It commands
New space
Spilling
down
the
steps
Here
********* at railings there
Meeting again to move
As one fluid congregation
Not singing, but in prayer
I am here to marvel
Toe to edge I stand
On knotted roots
My eddying thoughts
Only half perceived
Rise like an ache
Behind the face
In the palms
Like grief
remorse
Or shame
Joining the slow march
Onward to the town
Of glass cast high in stone
Where intellect and adoration creep
My knuckles graze the walls
Now stopped by a half opened door
To examine the blood
The skin the bone
Inside, alter bound
I glimpse
The thorns, the crown
My shame is audible here
It shifts uncomfortably
Among the pew creeks
The hushed bibles
Again the thought
Clearer now
The feeling of apart
The answer, half perceived
Jun 29, 2024
Jun 29, 2024 at 6:23 AM UTC
You can say all roads lead to Rome
And a few lead to Wytham
Yes, a few lead to Wytham
As quiet as it is, but roam
Your way, on your bus, on your car:
I only know one, I only want one
And it may be long to go so far
On so little, but I shan't be gone
Unless it be by foot or on a bicycle
Run past the ruins of Godstow, the road
A minefield in sweet quiet from the bridge, tickle
The Trout, press the hedges at the goad
Of yet another motor, on bike or foot
On bike or foot, that I may kiss the ground
In pilgrimage to memory and childhood
Before the shades in which we're lost, we're found.
Apr 21, 2024
Apr 21, 2024 at 4:03 AM UTC
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Does Cambridge Have a Comma Too?
Oh, Oxford Comma, let all hail to thee
You sorter-out of tidy sequencings
Who suffer not confusion in categories
And marshal your strong words in battle lines
Oh, Cambridge, poor Cambridge, you have not
A comma of your own; your sequencings
Were lost among the fens in Hereward’s days -
You might want to go a-fishing for them
Oh, sure, Cambridge,
You have your arts and poetry and drama
But only Oxford boasts her very own comma
Mar 26, 2021
Mar 26, 2021 at 10:32 AM UTC
And now the night shades fall,
Day's brightness leaves sway for evening's gown.
Tall shadows join and darken all
And naught but spires remain of our old town.
This night, our herald of tomorrow's coming dawn,
Warmed by the heat breathed back from these old walls,
Now wraps close all deeds and sorrows drawn,
And soothes us as her darkening curtain falls.
Despise us not who sit and meditate
For 'neath thy cloak reason has its way
And comforts in those silent hours late,
The toils and hardships of departing day.
May 6, 2018
May 6, 2018 at 12:22 AM UTC
Ancient stone vibrating with life sighs deeply in my memory
In my mind my feet still explore
The hidden paths of that fair city
Peace permeates my spirit as I lay dreaming
Of broad greens and cloistered gardens
Shaded courtyards of quiet blooms
Of wood-worked halls and book lined rooms
Her subtle charm, her poised beauty
Warm heart beating even beneath the snow
To inspire , to teach and to sow
In the hearts of all who know her
The seeds of joy, of love, of loyalty
Reaped in measure from us all
We who have walked her cobblestone streets
And awakened to her tolling bells
Even across the miles and years
My soul resonating in time with hers
And I am there again, walking out of mist and woods through slanting sunbeams
Curving around carved towers
And all around and within there is light
Sep 27, 2017
Sep 27, 2017 at 4:14 AM UTC
I took the first sip of white wine in
trepidation for the aftermath of drunk
people in movies is not very pleasant.
I downed it all, faster than an intruder
who wiretaps an important building
somewhere in America. I had vowed to
not drown in the poison I had just consumed.
But what happened later proved me wrong.
I swam in clouds and I floated in shallow
waters for the slurs that lay on my tongue
were not something I would utter in a
sober state. I cavorted. I danced. I showed
skin. I was the frog that clandestinely dances
in the rain and hides away before the ground
is dry again. I swirled like a whirlpool. My cheeks
were red and I emitted happiness. I made silly
jokes about a plant named Wisteria and lay
in bed, twirling away in my drunken madness.
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 8:08 AM UTC
on silk & velvet
the brew is based
on youth & wine
& summer’s haste
& of gin & joy
there is no waste
oh the town is drunk !
the town is drunk
on life
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 6:32 PM UTC
Earthworms dead on the sidewalk,
Maybe they're lucky--
It's also fishing season.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
Under a tree
In a park
A city once unknown
I buried a part of me
I wanted to leave myself there
In order to bring myself back
To feel the magic of the city
Once again I’ll find myself under that tree, I swear
I left pieces of my heart
In London, Oxford, Bath
I’m ready to move on, live my life
It’s in that city where I buried myself I’ll have my start
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
I met an artist yesterday,
sat in solitary silence,
In the shadowy corner of an affluent bar.
And cloaked he was,
by babble of students,
Boasting of wealth and test results.
molested In the attire of a catholic school,
His cigarettes born from bible pages;
and -- Inebriated from the blood of Christ --
surrounded by empty glass apostles,
He paints the papers,
In a masterful stroke --
Of pointilistic precision --
In a viscous hash oil
That he had melted on a crucifix.
The artist drunk, and drunk
He drowned himself,
Deafened by his liver
Drowning in a sea of expensive whiskey --
It was a miracle that he could walk on it.
And began to rack
the coke he'd wrapped
in a losing lottery ticket --
In plain sight of those
'sophisticated' enough
To use a bathroom cubicle.
And hoovered the diamond shards into his nostril,
Through a rolled up scrap of paper --
A letter for an Oxford Interview
he could not afford to get to.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC