Friday, July 1, 2022

Q - doggerel (or perhaps sheeperel)


Lawrence Hall




Where they go one, they go all

Just like sheep in a rented U-Haul

(Bah, bah, bah!)

Thursday, June 30, 2022

Come Laughing Home at Twilight - for Canada Day


Lawrence Hall



A repost for Canada Day:


Come Laughing Home at Twilight


Beaumont-Hamel, 1916


And, O!  Wasn’t he just the Jack the Lad,

A’swellin’ down the Water Street as if –

As if he owned the very paving stones!

He was my beautiful boy, and, sure,

The girls they thought so too: his eyes, his walk;

A man of Newfoundland, my small big man,

Just seventeen, but strong and bold and sure.


Where is he now?  Can you tell me?  Can you?


Don’t tell me he was England’s finest, no –

He was my finest, him and his Da,

His Da, who breathed in sorrow, and was lost,

They say, lost in the fog, among the ice.

But no, he too was killed on the first of July

Only it took him months to cast away,

And drift away, far away, in the mist.


Where is he now?  Can you tell me?  Can you?


I need no Kings nor no Kaisers, no,

Nor no statues with fine words writ on’em,

Nor no flags nor no Last Post today:

I only want to see my men come home,

Come laughing home at twilight, boots all mucky,

An’ me fussin’ at ‘em for being’ late,

Come laughing home at twilight.

An Exercise in Humility and Colombian Coffee - poem


Lawrence Hall


An Exercise in Humility and Colombian Coffee


I once saw one of those slogan coffee cups

(I’m sure it would have served as well for tea)

Which read something like this:


                                                   The beginning of faith

Is to realize that you are not

The ruler of the Universe


And it is so – I am not very good

At ruling even myself

Wednesday, June 29, 2022

A Chewing-Gum Girl Waiting for the Sunset Limited - poem


Lawrence Hall


A Chewing-Gum Girl Waiting for the Sunset Limited


Long, long ago


In the station at Tucson we waited

Someone said the locomotive had burned in the desert

A girl with earphones chewed gum through the hours:

Roundy-CHOMP, roundy-CHOMP, roundy-CHOMP-CHOMP


Her eyes were closed, her music was her god

She clutched a leatherette case of tapes

Just as some clutch a Bible, and chewed:

Roundy-CHOMP, roundy-CHOMP, roundy-CHOMP-CHOMP


Her mechanical chomps could have been the rhythm

Of the passenger train that wasn’t there

My paperback novel never joined in:

Roundy-CHOMP, roundy-CHOMP, roundy-CHOMP-CHOMP


I don’t remember her boarding the train

That in the evening finally arrived

She might be in the Tucson station still:

Roundy-CHOMP, roundy-CHOMP, roundy-CHOMP-CHOMP


Tuesday, June 28, 2022

Fashionable Death Cults Then and Now - poem



Lawrence Hall


Fashionable Death Cults Then and Now


After the June 1941 German invasion of the Soviet Union and Einsatzgruppe mass shootings of civilians, the Nazis experimented with gas vans for mass killing…


-Gassing Operations | Holocaust Encyclopedia (


Dozens of migrants were found dead in an abandoned big rig in San Antonio on Monday in what appears to be the deadliest human smuggling case in modern U.S. history.



-At least 50 migrants found dead inside a truck in San Antonio, officials say (


We have our death vans too, not well-organized

But rolling down the American road

Unseen by our leaders in their personal jets

Flying to Frisco or maybe Cancun


Bombings and shootings on the street and in church

Job lots in hospitals, by the dozens in schools

For we too specialize in genocide

And may Moloch and Herod bless our AR-15s


If any children survive, we’ll call them Generation Something

And tell them each day how inadequate they are

Monday, June 27, 2022

The Narthex as a Barricade - poem


Lawrence Hall


The Narthex as a Barricade


I have become a greeter in my old age

(Why is that pickup truck circling the parking lot?)

How good to see you! What happy children you have!

(Any bulges in that unknown man’s pockets?)


The Altar servers are in place for the processional

(Why is that man just sitting in that car?)

The lector gives everyone a word of welcome

(Pssst – do you know that guy sitting in the back?)


I open doors and hand out bulletins

And watch

Sunday, June 26, 2022

To Please Her Man - poem


Lawrence Hall


To Please Her Man


She underwent the stomach-stapling knife

To please her man, to tighten her tummy and cheeks

While in recovery she bled out her life

He married his girlfriend within a few weeks

Saturday, June 25, 2022

The Pale Lady of the Well - poem


Lawrence Hall


The Pale Lady of the Well


I am mostly English, which is now uncool

And my soupcon of West African genes

Along with a whiff of Russia and First Nations

Protest Northumbria and East Anglia


But when outside at dusk with poetry and pipe

And a whisper of single-malt offered to the earth

Sometimes I seem to see visions proper to a Celt

And hear soft songs from the dawn of time


How is it that an Englishman can still

Sense the White Lady near the well at dusk