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Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                    Where Do I Apply to be Corrupted?

BOOK: KGB began grooming 'young and vain'
        Donald Trump 40 years ago by saving him
        from financial ruin...

                                    -U. K. Daily Mail


This rumor has irrupted

Life is interrupted

Outrage has erupted

But I want to know

Where can I go

To be corrupted?
Doggerel is itself.
Jan 2021 · 223
Murder Most Cosy
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                            ****** Most Cosy

A ****** cannot possibly be cosy
With blood all over the vicarage floor
And while Miss Marple is politely nosy
There is still the problem of all that gore

A ****** committed in an English village
Is hardly cosy to m’lord who died
Surrounded by hop fields under tillage
He still is dead (tho’ in the countryside)

A ****** cannot possibly be cosy –
But is the widow finding life now rosy?
A poem is itself.
Jan 2021 · 176
Learning to Comb Your Hair
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                               Learning to Comb Your Hair

Do you remember learning how to comb your hair?
Your mother had you look into the mirror
(What a handsome young man!)
And watch as she made magic with a comb

First, she chased all your hair forward and down
Until your eyebrows laughed for the fun of it
And then she chose an imaginary line
And parted the strands for the rest of the day

Hooray!

Do you remember learning how to comb your hair?
(Now in your mother’s memory send up a prayer)
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                         Our Vines Have Tender Marsupials

In summer the ‘possums come seeking my garden
In grey winter they come seeking dog food
Tonight they cling high up in the bare vines
Hiding from the dachshunds snuffling below

All the animals’ eyes stare back at the flashlight
Unsure of their duties in the misty rain
Whether to climb, to move, to bark, to hiss
And so we all pause to ponder the mysteries

Fear, hunger, confusion, artificial light –
Pretty much metaphors for the covid time

(The title is a play on Our Vines Have Tender Grapes, MGM, 1945)
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                         “This Waiting Room of the World”

          I’ve always found this a trying time of the year.  The leaves
          not yet out, mud everywhere you go.  Frosty mornings
          gone.  Sunny mornings not yet come.  Give me blizzards and
          frozen pipes, but not this nothing time, not this waiting room
          of the world.

                                            -Jack in Shadowlands

Slow raindrops are the pulse that marks the time
Which falls with them upon the browning leaves
Each one of them a railway station bench
In a darkened world where trains have ceased to run

The ticket window is closed the rest of the day
But someone says the local will run tomorrow
Maybe around two if the tracks are cleared
Of all the hopes that seem to block the line

But maybe not, for nothing seems to move
And the journeys of life are forbidden to us
A poem is itself.
Jan 2021 · 100
Salt and Mrs. Lot
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                                    Salt and Mrs. Lot

We are told that Mrs. Lot was turned into
A pillar of salt for looking back to view
The flames of cursed ***** and Gomorrah
For looking to the past, instead of tomorrow

Maybe
Doggerel is itself.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                        Some Say This is the End of the Era of Trump

Some say this is the end of the era of Trump
Some with glee
Some in mourning

Some say this is the beginning of the era of Biden
Some with glee
Some in mourning

But I say that this is your era
As it always was
And always will be

And you realize that this is your era
Sometimes with glee
Sometimes in mourning

You need no leader, no master, no whip
Obey yourself
And lead yourself

You wear no one else’s name
For you have yours
And you are free

You are not defined by an era
Define yourself
And honor yourself

Make the picture of your hero
A self-portrait

Sometimes with glee
Sometimes in mourning

But always you
A poem is itself.

The formatting is not as I entered it, but the poem still works. I hope.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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               A Sure Way to Be Banned from a Political Website

Is to ask a critic, by way of correction:
If he voted in his last school board election


                A Sure Way to Be Banned from a Catholic Website

Is to ask a radtrad priest just why he must
Promote his fantasies about others’ lust
Doggerel is itself.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                               For the 20th of January
                                      1961 and 2021


                 The deed of gift was many deeds of war

                                         -Robert Frost

Miz Hawkins brought a television to school
So we could watch the inauguration
Of a president “born in this century”
But he seemed really old to us anyway

God looked like President Eisenhower
And God was surely a Methodist
President Kennedy was a Cath’lic
(In their basements they hid shortwaves and guns)

Shortwaves tuned to the Vatican and that ol’ Pope
So could a Cath’lic be a good American?
But the nation was young, and so were we
And America was God’s best creation

And because America was the Leader of the World
And we had whipped the Nazis and the **** [sic]
All by ourselves, and invented the Bomb
We were the blessing of democracy over all

Robert Frost spoke grand words in the January frost
I was hoping for his “Stopping by Woods”
Because I had memorized that in school
But he gave us something else, “The Gift Outright”

And then with frosted breath the President
Asked us what we could do for our country
Our country later asked us about Viet-Nam
But for now Miz Hawkins shushed all us deeds of gift

The nation was young that day, and so were we –

And everything seems so much older now
Our long ago optimism a deed of gift
To angry old men whose voices rattle

Rattle from behind armored glass and barbed wire
Barbed wire left over from DaNang and Saigon
And a thousand abandoned desert posts
Each a gift outright to Ozymandias

Who late bestrode the littered Capitol steps
His wrinkled lips loud-yelping in command
Over our increasingly antique land
“Made it, Ma! Top of the World!”

The happy crowds of ’61 are sand
There are no crowds in ’21, only silence
Behind ranks of soldiers (properly vetted)
Standing in empty streets, waiting for a Traveller

References:

Robert Frost, “The Gift Outright”
Shelley, “Ozymandias”
Warner Brothers, White Heat (film), 1949
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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       “FBI vetting Guard troops in DC amid fears of insider attack”

                                         -Associated Press

          “…we need to put all of the mechanisms in place
           to thoroughly vet these men and women…”

                              -Army Secretary Ryan McCarthy

Men of Destiny always make a mess
Of life, of death, of shabby governance
And from the safety of their bunkers
Polish their medals and send in the young

“These men and women” – “these” – he sneers the word
As if privates and corporals try to block votes -
His predecessors, trusting budgets, bullets, and bombs
Didn’t trust us one bit in Viet-Nam

It is the Pentagon’s original sin:
When they ** up they blame the enlisted men


FBI vetting Guard troops in DC amid fears of insider attack (apnews.com)
A poem is itself.
Jan 2021 · 254
Coffee Shop Darwinians
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                                 Coffee Shop Darwinians

          “We’ll set a fine, new, well-oiled machine in place
            of the old one and this time we’ll put the Normans
            into it instead. That’s what justice means, isn’t it?”

                                        -Saxon Monk in Becket

No, of course it didn’t have to happen
We’re not campus coffee shop Darwinians
Determined that five innocents needed to die
Within the gears of our new, well-oiled machine

And that more should come, chanting “O Machine!” 1
“Follow the Science!” and “Learn. To. Code!”
As they sacrifice themselves to a Tweeter-sanctioned
Infestation of Manifest Destiny

And I’ve got a feeling, as you might agree:
No one on either side quotes Dostoyevsky


1 “The Machine Stops,” E. M. Forster
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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        The Writer, the Reader, and the Synapse Between Them

                                               Per V.B. & W.K.

From the writer to the reader
From the speaker to the listener

Like a 16-year-old crossing a field at noon
A little word has a lot of ground to cover in the heat
A mile of open ground to a wall and some trees
Where confusion does not want it to arrive

From the writer to the reader
From the speaker to the listener

If we send a little word across a field
But stay behind ourselves and only watch
To see what happens - how responsible are we
If the word dies screaming among the wheat

From the writer to the reader
From the speaker to the listener

Like a 16-year-old crossing a field at noon
A little word has a lot of ground to cover in the heat
Consider a word you've written as a teenage conscript at Gettysburg.
Jan 2021 · 172
This Side of the Covid
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                                This Side of the Covid

The Covid still is spinning me around
And flinging random thoughts against the roof
The bat-cave roof of this cosmic centrifuge
Whoops-a-go with a plastic temperature

And here’s a finger for the oxygen thing
With which to touch a passing ice-cream dream
And clutch it to a forest long sacrificed
For all the snot-paper I needed last week

So if, dear friends, I fail to make any sense
My words are piled in drifts along the fence

I think.

Maybe.
A poem is itself. So is the Covid.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                        An Orderly Transition of Power, They Say

             Is’t night’s predominance, or the day’s shame
             That darkness does the face of earth entomb
             When living light should kiss it?

                              -Macbeth II.iiii.9-11

On Inauguration Day there should be:

Children waving sparklers, avenues of light
High school bands and Boy Scouts in formation
Merriment along streets scrubbed clean and bright
A happy people in love with their nation

But we are given:

Soldiers, concertina wire strung between Corinthian columns, secret service, chain-link fencing, police, checkpoints, soldiers, roadblocks, secret service, rooftop marksmen, police, missile batteries, soldiers, no-go zones, secret service, lockdowns, police, lockouts, soldiers, security gates, secret service, identification checks, police, radar, soldiers, radios, secret service, body scans, police, x-rays, soldiers, sniffer dogs, secret service, permits, police, passes, soldiers, patdowns, secret service, badges, police, questions, soldiers

Fear

Why?
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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           Soldiers Sleeping Beneath a Bust of Father Abraham

In the Capitol exhausted soldiers sleep
Beneath a bust of Abraham Lincoln
And a sign that reads: “Cameras and related gear
Not authorized in this area.”

After days of transports and formations
Of stringing wire and policing the area
Of orders and marches and lines for the head
And maintenance of all weapons and gear

They sprawl just any whichaway on a floor
To be mocked with sneaky MePhone photographs
“Is that all our overpaid soldiers do? Sleep?”
And stepped around by those whom they protect

Insolent civilians might not give a ****
But our soldiers are blessed by Father Abraham
Based on a photograph published in Drudge.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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          The Understated Joys of Crows and Bedroom Slippers

The morning lawn is white with frost and mist
And speckled black with a claque of sneaky crows
Bullying the little birds aside for the seeds
Before the squirrels are up to contend for them

Into my Christmas slippers I push my feet
Slowly so as not to startle the birds
But they spy me through the window and rustle off
In insolent protest against all men

Because their feet are cold and mine are hot
Since I have slippers, and the crows have not!
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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              The Ever-Glorious Presidential Medal of Freedom
                        With a Wal-Mart Gift Card Attached

As a child I played miniature golf, you see
So is there a Medal of Freedom for me?
Doggerel is itself.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                             “My Temple Stands in Ephesus”

                                            -Pericles V.i.241

“My temple stands in Ephesus,” the goddess says
I don’t believe in goddesses, of course,
And stern Saint Paul would cut up rough about them
But we could wish them so, temples and gods

We could board a ship with a seeing eye
A ship of wonderful cargoes safely stowed
And let there be “Lords, Knights, Gentlemen,
Sailors, Pirates, Fishermen, and Messengers”

To speed our stories and our very selves
To where a temple stands in Ephesus
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                      Snow Clouds for Children on a January Dawn

There could be snow later, and that would be nice
Children can grow up here and never see snow
Today they might go out and play in it
While we old folks tut-tut, “You’ll catch your death…”

But they are asleep, the snow is asleep
Only the rain is awake, drip, drip, drip
Making last summer’s leaves speak one last time
As they crumble into their winter sleep

There could be snow later, and that would be nice
For the children: a happy new year twice
A poem is itself.
Jan 2021 · 220
Antihistamine Dreams
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                                     ­   Antihistamine Dreams

My night-time sneezing, cold, and ‘flu medicine -
It flew me back to Viet-Nam last night
Not on a battlefield or Ye Olde Veterans’ tour
But with a mixed group younger than any war

From a tour bus I pointed out scenes of my youth
To people who wisely were not interested
Who with their Leicas took pictures of fields
And the languid flow of the Vam Co Tay

And there were no hard feelings anywhere
Until someone shot me from a window
A poem is itself. Dreams are...?
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                         You are the Daily Good – Thank You

                               What good shall I do this day?

                                         -Benjamin Franklin

So much good is being accomplished today:
Women and men going about their daily work
Food pantry volunteers stocking the shelves
Retirees prepping meals for everyone else

So much good is being accomplished today:
Little children study (and clean their plates)
A teen shops for his MeeMaw so she’ll be safe
A neighbor gives comfort to her grieving friend

So much good is being accomplished today:
And you and I are going to be a part of that
A poem is itself. Good is itself.
Jan 2021 · 114
Storm Heaven, if You Will
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                                 Storm Heaven, if You Will

          In the midst of a world of light and love, of song and feast
          and dance, he could find nothing to think of more interesting
          than his own prestige.

                         -C.S. Lewis, A Preface to Paradise Lost

Storm Heaven with your selfless prayers, if you will
But not your fellow man with fists and flags
A poem is itself.
Jan 2021 · 124
All the President's Mob
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                                         All the President’s Mob

Sedition batters past the capitol police -
As Congress, sweet harmless Merovingians,
Arming from a thesaurus of pomposity
Meet the attempted coup with lofty words

While hidden far away, lurking unseen
Our Leader screams into his telescreen
Moving his dementia along the Potomac:
Glorifying himself in the highest

Our government, cowering on the floor
Maintains that it will not be intimidated
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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            Drive-Through Covid Testing and Bladder Control

Just waiting in a car-queue, something new
Every hour up a hundred yards or so
Readings on the MePhone, a book or two
And good ol’ Morning Al on the radio

Clutch, go, brake, clutch, inches at a time, wait
News on the up hour, and news on the down
Scan the QR code, number, name, and date
For the nice lady in a mask and gown

Hold your head forward, now strike a pose
Then up my nose the little swabbie-thing goes…
Jan 2021 · 181
An Asymptomatic Sinner
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                                  An Asymptomatic Sinner

I burned a television set today
Which was a rewarding experience
A bonfire of the vanities indeed
Burn, you 140 channels, burn!

I am in quarantine, ‘though symptom-free
And there was an old television around
And so I burned it. And I’m glad, ha-ha!
Tomorrow I will rake the ashes for its guts

While in quarantine, waiting for my test -
A burning television is a merry jest!
A poem is itself.
Jan 2021 · 679
Behold!
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                                              Behold!

A story requires an occasional “Behold!”
Merely to see the magic is not enough
The children do not merely see Aslan
Nor does Uncle Andrew merely see the witch

Behold!

A story requires an occasional “Behold!”
Merely to see the Truth is not enough
The Magi do not merely see the Star
Nor do the shepherds merely see the Child

Behold!

A story requires an occasional “Behold!”
Or else the magic isn’t truly told

Behold!
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                                     Seraphim of Sarov
                                         And the Bear
                                      And the Robbers

Saint Seraphim was seen feeding a bear
He would have fed the robbers too, poor men
With both the little in his larder bowl
And healing from the greatness of his soul

With his own axe they beat him near to death
Before looting his cell of its rumored riches
They found indeed a treasure of great wealth:
A peasant’s Ikon of the Mother of God

For the rest of his life

Seraphim leaned upon his axe and upon God
Taking our brokenness upon himself
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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       Useful Things Aboard a Delivery Truck on New Year’s Day

A new clothes-dryer for our little house
“MADE IN AMERICA” – but is it really?
By hand to the hydraulic lift, and down
And by dolly trolley into the laundry

It made its journey with someone’s new washer
A refrigerator, and a cast-iron cooker
Useful things delivered by working men
Wrestling trucks and freight for the common good

When their day’s work is done I hope that they
Can relax

(around a cooker, with a cold one in hand)

                        and say, “This was a good day.”
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
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                Happy Roman New Year - Join me for a Cuppa


                                   I went, and I am still going.

                                       -Yevgeny Yevtushenko
                                             “Zima Junction”


The dogs and I are out on our morning patrol
Greeting the new day, new month, and new year
Greeting the sun as he sings through woods
His song of Creation, Creation-fresh

I have fed the animals, lit the fire
Made coffee to enjoy at my old desk
With Edmondson, Wells, and their pal Shakespeare
And John Senior with his awfully thinky words

Fresh coffee, fresh words for me and for you –
Join me, won’t you, for a merry cup of brew!



I have no connection with the authors or publishers; I simply recommend them to you:

Edmondson, Paul and Wells. All the Sonnets of Shakespeare. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2020

Senior, John. Pale Horse, Easy Rider. Lawrence, Kansas, Shakespeherian Rag Press, 1992
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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                                     31 December 2020 –
                            Time Out for a Penalty Flag

             The old order changeth, yielding place to new,
             And God fulfills himself in many ways

                     -Tennyson, “The Passing of Arthur”

Change does not lie in calendars or dates
But in the seasonal turnings of the year
And in the ordered ways of God with us
Compassing us truly in spite of ourselves

Years are but our usages and measurings
Tools lent us for a time for learning Creation
For balancing the better against the good
And the transcendent against the transient

Life is not lived in calendars or dates
But beyond all time, and only in Truth
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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                         Our Fearless Leaders / Have Got / The Shot

But as for us, well, we have not
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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                            First Communion in the Virus-Time

                                                For Veronica

                                           True Ikon of the Lord

A little girl’s mantilla is a crown
A crown an empress might covet for herself
Wore she not her own First Communion mantilla
Forever within the recesses of her heart

A little girl’s white cotton dress is a robe
A royal robe of courtly majesty,
Worn in the presence of her Lord and King

A little ******* First Communion day
Awes even the angels in her imperium
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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                            Reading is a Suspicious Activity:
                                Blue-Penciled in Solovetsky

   “…Soviet writers failed to write about their personal thoughts.”

                                               -Yevtushenko

Reading is a suspicious activity
Unless it’s a technical book of instructions
Or a hunting magazine with centerfolds
Of seductive semi-automatics

Writing is a forbidden activity
Unless it’s a grocery shopping list
Or the code to a new computer game
Of zombie valkyries with ******* tats

They’ve only gotten as far as statues thrown down
They’ll destroy the libraries next – and maybe you
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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                               Washing-Machine Archaeology

History passes, and so do washing machines
Rattling and spinning to the end of their span
Their dutiful cleanings cleaned out at last
Whited sepulchers around silent drums

The householder as Howard Carter finds
Behind a dead machine “Yes, wonderful things!”
Clothes hangers, metastasized dust bunnies
Inexplicable stains that hiss and spit

And in a midden, he discovers with a shock -
Almost embalmed – that famous long-lost sock!
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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          The Feast of Saint Stephen as Observed at the Truck Stop

                            On the occasion of meeting a friend
                         for breakfast on the Feast of St. Stephen

Now the overpass looked down
On the Feast of Stephen
With some garbage strewn around
Moldy and uneven
Brightly shone the neon light
Though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight
Pumping diesel fuel

(This is gonna be one of the Greats, eh!)
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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                             Christmas Day in the Covid-Time

There are no children around the tree this year
To make Christmas complete with their happiness
No Barbie dolls, electric trains, or bikes -
We are distanced in everything but love

No relatives come and go, not even the one
Who will park his pickup truck on the lawn
No fruitcakes given and received, no hugs -
We are distanced in everything but love

But still there is the fire, the dog, and us -
We are distanced in everything but love
A poem is itself.
Dec 2020 · 149
Christmas and Razor Wire
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
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          Why Can’t You Come Home for Christmas, Daddy?

Christmas eve – and the conversation is low
The chaplains have left the men with their blessings
And have in their turn been blessed by the men
Who gather now with powdered coffee, with words

Christmas eve – written in a little child’s hand:
“Why can’t you come home for Christmas, Daddy?”
And a crayoned Santa Claus who can fly
Above the razor wire, and far away

Christmas eve - midnight’s canvas-pillowed tears
Christmas at home someday - only ten years
Dec 2020 · 361
Christmas Eve Eve Eve
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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                                    Christmas Eve Eve Eve

Winter arrives, they say, at 8:31
And how do they know? The light doesn’t change
The soft pale light filtering through the fog
Upon the grey-brown fields who have fallen asleep

While we speak of lockdowns and rollbacks and deaths
And plan for the least-attended Christmas Mass
The fields and forests hardly speak at all
Only in their prayerful whispers of the Eternal

Time is  told to us by the sun, moon, and stars -
And all the seasons arrive in God’s good time
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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        Everyone Writes a Drivelly Poem about the Winter Solstice
                                           And entitles it
                                         “Winter Solstice,”
                           And yet Somehow the World Goes On

The sun seems to stand still, and too, the world
An Ouroboros of lockdowns and masks
And the increasing divisions of partisans
In yet another republic devouring itself

There is an insubstantial Christmas truce
Undeclared, a catching of breath and will
In hopes that two-faced Janus will close his doors
Against the failings of the coming year

The sun seems to stand still, and too, the world
We also wait, and search the skies for a Star
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                Bifocalism for the Masses and, Like, Stuff

Bifocals – the upper lens sees far away
The sun and the moon and the dancing stars
All in their appointed places above
Great mountains and oceans and thunderstorms

Bifocals – the lower lens sees the end of your nose
The sweep hand dancing around your Timex watch
The book you are reading, the book you are writing
Your thoughts encoded in orderly lines

Bifocals – both lenses balance your sense of vision -
But take the stairs with care and precision!
Frivolity.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
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                       And He Liked Really Cool Cars

                                 For George Ebarb

                                Of happy memory

                  Who served God, his family, prisoners,
                  And all who were blessed in knowing him
                  With unfailing love and generosity

                 (And he liked really cool cars!)

A convention is to say that when we die
God will not ask us about the cars we drove
But we may hope and pray that in George’s case
A happy exception was made for him
George was my mentor in prison volunteer service. I didn’t know he was a rich man, for he wore his wealthy lightly, and I didn’t know he gave much of his wealth away, for he was also rich, as Chaucer says of the Parsoun, in “hooly thought and werk.”
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

               Keep a Sharp Lookout – This Fog Won’t Last

           My country was made for noble hearts such as yours.

                       -Aslan in Voyage of the Dawn Treader

When we can’t turn outward, we turn inward
That might not be such a good thing, you know
We are probably out-of-practice, busied
With meetings and work and coffee-shop dates

For now our lives are solitude and screens
Pajama feet and emptiness, and if
We call someone, who is it who answers us?
“Be still, and know that I am Internet?”

Oh, no. The night is misty indeed, but the stars -
The stars still shine; be brave, and look for them
Courage.
Dec 2020 · 86
Do not Clench unto Others
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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                                    Do not Clench unto Others

Merciful God in His infinite love
Will never clench His fist at us
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                          A Little Child Lacing Her Shoes

                                  For Sarah, of course

She is as proud, as she can be, and I -
I too am proud, watching her twist her tongue
In thought – the rabbit pops into its hole
To emerge on the other side – hello!

She is as proud as she can be, but I
Am a little bit sad as she stands up now
Dancing in place to make the heel-lights *****
Then giggling, “Catch me, Daddy!” as she runs away

And I play-chase, knowing that all too soon
There won’t be little lights for me to follow
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                   Tin Ears in the Hands of an Angry God

                       -as Jonathan Edwards did not yell

If You are good and kind and loving, O Lord
Then why do You permit
                                                 The harpsichord?
Frivolity
Dec 2020 · 327
Before the Magi Came
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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                                 Before the Magi Came

                                 -1 Maccabees 4:36-60

Yes, long before the holy Magi came
Judah the Maccabee brought forth his gifts
First scourging the Temple clean of false gods
In prayerful preparation for the True

And then presented God with oil and bread
A consecrated Altar of undressed stones
Incense and lamps and songs and grateful hearts
And an octave of inextinguishable light

Thus, long before the holy Magi came
Even before the Star, Judah brought a flame
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
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                Contagious Disease Unit – Ward 20 Deck 2

Maybe my aptitude for throwing up
My ENT infections, fevers and chills
Hopeless motion sickness and fainting fits
Were the reasons why NavPers posted me there

All the diseases in the Fleet called it home:
Infections, syphilis, leprosy, the clap
(Let’s give him a hand), and for reasons not clear
A couple of crewmen from the Pueblo

Before I was sent to be sick in Indo-China -
And now they say there’s a virus going around
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                      Waiting for the Messiah Someplace Else

     Motel: Rabbi, we've been waiting for the Messiah all our lives.
     Wouldn't now be a good time for him to come?

      Rabbi: I guess we'll have to wait someplace else.

                                   -Fiddler on the Roof

And so we wait, here where we are, the time
Marked off by calends and by candlelight
Four Gospels in a ring of holy fire
Before the Altar, and before the Throne

The Magi journey through space and time
Our journey is in waiting for a star
To shine upon us all, and lead us to
The Temple where all waiting finally ends

Beside an Altar of repose in a Stable
A cradle of wood from Eden and the Ark
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                   Marketing Strategies of the Nazgul

An email arrived from a dear, dear friend
I was so glad to hear from him…until
Unhappy remembrance – he’s dead and still
And my stitches were torn open again

Some Nazgul program had encountered his name
And mine, and smashed them together to see
If some foul poison could be sold to me
Through a counterfeit, the cruelest game

But in faith my friend lives, as we have read -
It is the Nazgul who are truly dead
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2020
Lawrence Hall
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https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

              The Rural Electric Co-Op’s Giant Christmas Tree

Christmas trees are a delight to a child
On the farm, situational poverty
In muck and filth, old coat against the cold
Finishing the milking long hours after dark

But to the east a Christmas tree, a hope
The electric co-op’s radio mast
Its guy wires strung with multi-colored lights
The North Pole must be something like that

Christmas trees are a delight to a child
And even more when the child becomes a man
A poem is itself.
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