Wednesday, June 30, 2021

Warriors and a Warrior-Princess - poem

 

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Warriors and a Warrior-Princess

 

Jason and his Argonauts fitted out a ship

And sought and fought for the Golden Fleece

 

Beowulf and his warriors fitted out a ship

And sought and fought for the glory of the Geats

 

Odysseus and his warriors fitted out a ship

And sought and fought for the glory of Greece

 

Aeneas and his warriors fitted out a ship

And sought and fought for the glory of Rome

 

My daughter and I fitted out some floaties

And conquered the backyard swimming pool

Tuesday, June 29, 2021

The Topic was Forgiveness - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

The Topic was Forgiveness

 

He had forgiven his friend for shooting him

(He did not tell us what the shooting was for)

But his friend begged him for forgiveness, and it was so

Until his friend shot him a second time

 

“I ain’t forgiving the ******* for that

He snarled as he counted his leathery scars

“Once was enough; and Jesus wasn’t there

So don’t tell me I have to forgive him again”

 

He hobbled away with a painful gait

Supported only by his cane and his hate

Monday, June 28, 2021

Refilling the Hummingbird Feeder - a mangled haiku with an impatient honeybee

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Refilling the Hummingbird Feeder

 

Now here is a bee

So anxious for me    

                     to be

Far away from it

Sunday, June 27, 2021

A Poor Attempt at a Kinda-Sorta Tang Quatrain - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Poor Attempt at a Kinda-Sorta Tang Quatrain

 

Ink fluttering across cheap notebook pages

A candle guttering across a thousand nights

In exile he finds a school of poets and sages

Far from his home along the swift Mekong



(Li Po laughs, and calls for another cup of wine)

Saturday, June 26, 2021

When in Babylon, Don't Do as the Babylonians Do - doggerel

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

When in Babylon

Don’t Do as the Babylonians Do

 

King Nebuchadnezzar died young, and that’s

From a lifetime of smoking those ziggurats

Friday, June 25, 2021

Lingering Death by Medical Office Telephone Tree - a sort-of-poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Lingering Death by Medical Office Telephone Tree

 

“The marshal’s been shot! Somebody get Doc!”

 

“Hello. You have reached Polysyllabic Medical Associates

Our hours are (mumble, mumble, mumble)

Our fax number is (mumble, mumble, mumble)

We are located up the stairs at Front Street

Next to the Long Branch Therapeutic Outreach Centre

And boutique, Florals by Miss Kitty

All patients and visitors are required to wear masks

If this is a medical emergency

Hang up and telegraph 911 from the depot

If you need a refill, contact your pharmacist

If you are a doctor, dial 1

If you know your party’s extension, dial it now

 

(Beep)

That number is not recognized; please try again

(Beep)

That number is not recognized; please try again

(Beep)

That number is not recognized; please try again

(Beep)

 

If this is for an appointment, dial 4

 

(Beep)

That number is not recognized; please try again

(Beep)

That number is not recognized; please try again

(Beep)

That number is not recognized; please try again

(Beep)

 

If you would like to speak with a nurse, dial 5

 

(Beep)

That number is not recognized; please try again

(Beep)

That number is not recognized; please try again

(Beep)

That number is not recognized; please try again

(Beep)”

 

“Somebody, go get the undertaker.”

 

“Hello. You have reached The Garden of Memories

Formerly known as Boot Hill

Our hours are (mumble, mumble, mumble)…”

Thursday, June 24, 2021

Wednesday, June 23, 2021

Is Love Delivered by UPS? - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Is Love Delivered by UPS?

 

Wishing You and Yours a Happy and Holy Prime Day

 

All the empty boxes won’t go away

So I’m burning them outside after the rain

Automatic gunfire from the next road over

And is there a meaning in all of this?

 

We have mail-order cameras to protect

All the mail-order things that we don’t need

From the neighbors firing off rounds at dusk

Maybe at a menacing metaphor

 

All wants are now delivered to a home address -

And is love delivered by UPS?

Tuesday, June 22, 2021

W. K. Kortas: On Watching DOCTOR ZHIVAGO with the Sound Off

Until today I have never re-posted someone else's work on my modest site. This is brilliant:


W. K. Kortas

On Watching “Doctor Zhivago” With The Sound Off – W.k. kortas–mediocre means "better than some". (wordpress.com)

JUNE 22, 2021


      ON WATCHING “DOCTOR ZHIVAGO” WITH THE SOUND OFF


There is a certain shock, not from the silence itself

But of its revelations, the laying bare

Of the utter superfluence of language

In all which unfolds before us, the testament mute

But imbued with all the power of an orchestra

In full-throated fortissimo

Delivered through the panorama of the vast steppes,

The bounty of their Junes,

The desolation of their Januarys

The visage of the doomed Strelnikov,

The darting glances of the chameleonesque Komarovsky,

His eyes scuttling to and fro like dark cockroaches,

And most of all by the unquiet, not-of-this world gaze

Of Yuri Andreyevich, a stare which tells tales

Of how fleeting this world’s happiness will be,

How final and inescapable its sadness,

And as he stumbles and falls in his mad, final pursuit

Of a grail which is unheeding, unseeing,

Always just a step out of reach,

The dialogue is not a necessity,

For we have a trove of our own words and experience

To attest to the veracity of the scene in question.


(AUTHOR’S NOTE–as I would be justly castigated by my good friend Lawrence Hall if I failed to do so, I made a point of adding the good Yuri’s patronymic .)

Starting Over With a New Fountain Pen - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Starting Over with a New Fountain Pen

 

“I’m not happy unless I have a pen in my hand;

It’s really that simple.”

 

-Anthony Horowitz

 

Now you are home from the stationery shop

And seated at your writing desk, alone

Alone with your thoughts in the soft lamplight

You carefully open the little box

 

A pen

 

Perfectly fitted to your artist’s hand

Somehow like a sword or a rosary

Or a wand of power awaiting your command -

For it is a magic pen that has never failed

 

A pen

 

It is your pen. It is sacred. Name it.

Pray over it. Then dare to write the truth.

Monday, June 21, 2021

Coffee and Cookies after Mass - poem

 

Coffee and Cookies after Mass

 

Only there is no coffee after Mass

No cookies or Kool-Aid for the kidlets

The parish hall has been locked up for months

And you know, there’s just something wrong with that

 

There is no one to remind the children

Only two cookies each, because there are no children

No old people enthroned in folding chairs

To fuss as ever about about children these days

 

Dear child, my heart and my life, I don’t think

The bishop wants you to have a cookie after Mass

 

                                                          But I do

 

The Theory and Practice of Summer - weekly column

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

The Theory and Practice of Summer

 

Sumer is icumen in
Lhude sing cuccu
Groweþ sed
and bloweþ med
and springþ þe wde nu
Sing cuccu

 

-13th century English round / rota

 

A curious fact about Midsummer is that it does not fall in the middle of our calendar summer.

 

However, Midsummer does fall in the middle of true summer, around the time of the solstice and of St. John’s Day. In the context of trees and grasses and flowers and agriculture, summer began months ago and is now at its peak, now declining with the sun towards Michaelmas and autumn.

 

Schoolchildren, in their innocent wisdom, know exactly when their summer begins – the first Monday after school lets out.  They sing gleefully, “No more classes, no more books, no more teachers’ dirty looks!” and that’s as good a marker of summer as “Sumer is Icumen In.”

 

Summer is often better in theory than in practice, though. Around Midsummer the sun is at its apogee and the East Texas heat lies heavily upon the earth, growing hotter and more oppressive daily with its wicked accomplices mosquitoes and humidity.

 

I have known folks to say, “When I was young we didn’t have air-conditioning and so we didn’t miss it.”

 

Harrumph. Stuff and nonsense. Twaddle. Blather.

 

When I was young we didn’t have air-conditioning and, yeah, we missed the air-conditioning we never had with temps at 80 by eight and 90 by nine and humidity to match, month after weary month. A fan certainly helped, but in the mornings we woke up damp and hot and wheezy with allergens. Getting the cows up for the morning milking meant slogging through the dewy fields in thick, motionless air, dripping with sweat. Getting the cows up for the evening milking meant slogging through dusty fields beneath the glaring sun and if the air moved at all it was like a hot, foul breath from one of Spenser’s dragons in The Faerie Queene.

 

Between milkings there were seasonal farm chores, but there were also afternoon hours for fishing in the snaky pond or maybe just lazing under the oak trees with a library book, hoping for one of Thornton W. Burgess’ Merry Little Breezes to come by and play.

 

But for six months, at work, at play, at supper, or trying to sleep, the world was hot. Still is, only now we’re told it’s a new thing called global warming.

 

In cooler countries the observance of Midsummer still features bonfires and merriment well into the night, which would be fun. How easy to write that we should maintain such observances because they are connected with the natural rotation of the seasons, but as for me, well, it’s just too darned hot and mosquito-y out there.

 

They can have my air-conditioning when they pry it from my hot dead hands, or whenever the White House, the Houses of Congress, and the Supreme Court have their air-conditioning torn out and replaced with those cardboard fans with religious scenes that funeral homes used to give away.

 

-30-

 

 

Sumer Is Icumen In - Exeter University Madrigals A Cappella - YouTube

Sunday, June 20, 2021

Midsummer Mysteries

 

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Midsummer Mysteries

 

One of the merry mysteries of midsummer

Is that midsummer isn’t midsummer at all

Maybe it was, back in the shadows of time                 

When Tolkien’s fairies blessed a happier world

 

We still light bonfires on Midsummer Eve

Making our summer vigil with good Saint John

While children dance among their fairy rings

Making this sad world better with their happy dreams

 

And finally

 

When the fading ashes greet the dawn

We carry our blessings to their little beds

Friday, June 18, 2021

Six Months of Heat and Yellow Slanting Light - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Six Months of Heat and Slanting Yellow Light

 

Six months of heat and slanting yellow light

And heat and damp and slanting yellow light

And heat and rot and slanting yellow light

And heat and pain and slanting yellow light

And heat and pain and burning yellow light

And heat and pain and sour yellow light

 

Summer

No One is Your Vibrant Stereotype - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

No One is Your Vibrant Stereotype

 

One’s words and one’s friends are not tuning forks

They do not vibrate, and are thus not vibrant

Nor are they folksy, colorful, or quaint

Curiosities for you to collect

 

Poetic verse is free of DNA

An iamb suffers no identity

It boldly speaks its rhythm clear and strong

And metric feet march to their own chosen beat

 

But

 

If you feel that any culture should vibrate

Then go sit on yourself and just…rotate

Thursday, June 17, 2021

Situational Poverty - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Situational Poverty

 

V: We was poor but we didn’t know it

R:                             Oh, yes, we did

Wednesday, June 16, 2021

One of the Pizza Cantos - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

One of the Pizza Cantos

 

“Obey Me and Be Free!”

 

-Free for All, episode 2 of The Prisoner

 

Cue the queue for Q, Ezras by the pound

A crown of horns in pantos by the fright

Mutually assured denunciations

Keyboarding demon vaccines with a little blue light

 

There’s cycle paths behind the juke machine

It’s Deep Steak stuff, yeah, it ain’t on the news

And them albino monks hid all our votes

Let’s blame the teachers, reporters, and Jews

 

Now take your selfie for the F.B.I.

And when those Commies catch you, don’t you cry

Tuesday, June 15, 2021

A Dog, a Pocketknife, a Twenty-Two - a poem for fathers and sons

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Dog, a Pocketknife, a Twenty-Two

 

For Jared Allen Brandon, of Happy Memory

 

And Jared Walker Bess

 

A dog, a pocketknife, a twenty-two

The rightful possessions of every Texas lad

For working out the values he must live up to

The virtues that he learned from his solid ol’ Dad

 

A dog, a pocketknife, a twenty-two

Self-discipline, honest friends, a manly stride

A quiet voice that’s sturdy, firm, and true

A man of accomplishment and quiet pride

 

For you remember your own boyhood, yes, you do -

A dog, a pocketknife, a twenty-two

Monday, June 14, 2021

Four Out of Nine Muses Recommend Poetry - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Four Out of Nine Muses Recommend Poetry

 

Four out of nine Muses recommend poetry

More doctors recommended Camel cigarettes

But we are not speaking of burning poetry

Except by tyrants, who are frightened of words

 

Kalliope, Cleo, Erato, and Euterpe

Have split the poetry racket among themselves

The other Muses have business of their own

Worthy enough in their own arts, we’re sure

 

But oh, our four Muses, our Muses four -

We sing for you along your Ionian shore

Sunday, June 13, 2021

On the Unlocking of Words - as a newspaper column

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

On the Unlocking of Words

 

Their leader answered him, Beowulf unlocking 

Words from deep in his breast:  "We are Geats…”

 

-Beowulf to the Danish Coast Watcher

 

One does not imagine President Roosevelt, on the 8th of December in 1941, skipping his appearance before Congress and, wearing knee pants, a slogan tee, and some tats and piercings while blocking Pennsylvania Avenue and chanting, “Hey, hey! Ho, ho! Hirohito has got to go!”

 

In his four-minute speech to Congress, President Roosevelt eloquently stated the facts of Japan’s simultaneous aggressions against American and British territories throughout the far east, and then simply asked Congress for a declaration of war. He did not talk about himself or his mood or his feelings; he addressed the topic. More than that, he addressed the topic with words that, because of their simplicity, were powerful.

 

The art of oratory is little studied now, and so speeches are seldom about stating the facts and coming to a conclusion, but rather a matter of posturing and yelling and chanting.

 

The ultimate failure to persuade is in the use of a bullhorn. When a speaker at a rally or protest lifts up a bullhorn instead of his heart, he has demonstrated that he has nothing to say that will appeal to the intelligence of his hearers, and is now going to make loud noises as camouflage for his inadequacies.

 

Good speakers study the great ones, and learn from them: primary and secondary epics, Shakespeare’s speeches, especially in Julius Caesar, Macbeth, and Henry V, Macaulay’s Lays of Ancient Rome, Prime Minister Churchill, President Roosevelt, President Kennedy, Reverend King, and President Reagan.

 

In Beowulf, for example, our hero is confronted by a Danish coast watcher who says, in the strong cadence of the four-beat Old English line:

 

“…You! Tell me your name, 

And your father's; no spies go further onto 

Danish Soil than you've come already. Strangers, 

From wherever it was you sailed, tell it, 

And tell it quickly, the quicker the better, 

I say, for us all. Speak, say 

Exactly who you are, and from where, and why.”

 

Beowulf responds:

 

Their leader answered him, Beowulf unlocking 

Words from deep in his breast:  "We are Geats…

…And we have come seeking 

Your prince, Healfdane's son, protector 

Of this people, only in friendship: instruct us, 

Watchman, help us with your words! Our errand 

Is a great one, our business with the glorious king

Of the Danes no secret…”

 

After more of this polite but firm back-and-forth, the coast watcher says,

 

"A soldier should know the difference between words 

And deeds, and keep that knowledge clear 

In his brain. I believe your words, I trust in 

Your friendship. Go forward, weapons and armor

And all, on into Denmark. I'll guide you…”

 

(Beowulf- Burton Raffel - Google Docs)

 

We hear little such good, plain, meaningful language these days, either in our streets or in those famous halls of power or in the unfortunate presentations that constitute popular culture just now. Instead we the people are often subjected to shouting, screaming, chanting, and unfocused babbling that seems to echo from, in Milton’s poetic re-naming of (Newark, New Jersey), Pandaemonium.

 

The good use of language is important. We need to hear each other, not yelp at each other. And keep it short. There are many variants of this old wheeze: An effective speaker must be focused, be clear, be respectful, and be seated.

 

Let us, like Beowulf, unlock from our hearts good words as a form of respect for each other.

 

-30-

 

On the Unlocking of Words - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

On the Unlocking of Words

 

Their leader answered him, Beowulf unlocking 

Words from deep in his breast:  "We are Geats…”

 

-Beowulf to the Danish Coast Watcher

 

In bold and sturdy four-beat lines

Beowulf keeps his knowledge clear

With kennings well-crafted and careful caesurae

And never needing to raise his voice

 

But thus the Grendel-voice responds:

 

“Woo woo that’s just my person opinion that’s what I’m talking about follow your passion learn to code no offense, but wtf oh my God oh my God woo woo hey hey ho ho something-something has got to go woo woo only dead fish go with the flow tear it down shut it down burn it down woo woo lock her up there is no I in team woo woo not my president it’s not rocket science it is what it is woo woo say it loud say it clear this is what something looks like woo woo is there an app for that woo woo that’s what I’m saying woo woo…”

 

But you - be brave like Beowulf, and boldly dare

To unlock your words with creativity and care

Saturday, June 12, 2021

Little Corpses Everywhere - poem

 

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Little Corpses Everywhere


Woman kept child’s corpse in a plastic storage tote

 

-CNN

 

Little corpses decaying in storage totes

Little corpses by the hundreds in unmarked graves

Little corpses by the abortuary thousands

In bags neatly labeled “Medical Waste”

 

Little corpses with shrivelled meth-tainted lungs

Little corpses dropped discreetly in the creek

Little corpses all chopped and dropped and flushed

So that graduation night won’t be ruined

 

Little corpses in factories, mere skin and bones

Their agonies haunting our new smart phones

Friday, June 11, 2021

Left in a Package Locker - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Left in a Package Locker

 

“Left in a package locker” – that probably means

That someone left it at the post office in town

Because the private deliveries sometimes say

They can’t find our house, except when they do

 

It worked out well enough for Paddington Bear

But our depot was torn down years ago

And freight trains thunder by without a stop

Without regard for packages or bears

 

And so

 

We’ll drive to town next week to see if there

Is waiting for us, properly tagged, a little bear

Thursday, June 10, 2021

A Faraday Cage of the Mind - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Faraday Cage of the Mind

 

The dwarfs are for the dwarfs

 

-C. S. Lewis, The Last Battle

 

They wire themselves into a Faraday cage

As they make ossification great again

Raising their hands not in salutes but in fists

Their voices not in hymns but in foul hate

 

They wire themselves into a Faraday cage

Hug to themselves a past that never was

And circulate deception among themselves

In closed incestuous loops of rumors and chants

 

They wire themselves into a Faraday cage

So that a genuine thought will never penetrate

Wednesday, June 9, 2021

Tuesday, June 8, 2021

A Codicil to Sonnet 116 - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Codicil to Sonnet 116

 

When shy young lovers flirt with each other

Make eyes across a parent-haunted room

Hold hands in the magnolia-scented night

And kiss for the first…oh, that very first kiss!

 

Do they anticipate petitionings

Investigations and bitter whisperings

Restraining orders, arrearages, fail nots

Decrees more absolute than youthful vows?

 

As old Shakespeare was never wont to say

Love is not love when arbitration binds

Sunday, June 6, 2021

The 7th of June, 1944 and 1970 - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

The 7th of June, 1944 and 1970

 

My father beached at Normandy on the second day

(He was okay with having missed the first)

From there through France to Belgium in the mud

For a bloody Christmas in the icy Bulge

 

Munich, Buchenwald, Dachau, Zwickau

For me DaNang, Saigon, Ben Luc, Moc Hoa

I met a child in a Japanese army cap

But he wouldn’t sell it. We all have history

 

I wish I had that Japanese army cap

And that we knew what any of this means

What Would Ol' Doc Adams Do? - weekly column

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

What Would Ol’ Doc Adams Do?

 

“That’s right: Get a shot, have a beer”

 

-The President of the United States

 

Okay, I had the CV, and later on the two jabs, and as a condition of service as  a volunteer have the swab run up my nose and out through my skull every week. I’m good. The CV was not my choice, but the jabs and the swabs were, and I am reasonably sure they were the right choices based on the first-hand recommendations of real people with real medical qualifications.

 

Dr. InterNet does not have a voice in my health choices. Nor does someone’s third-cousin who almost finished nurses’ aide school. Nor does a purported doctor whose medical school’s name ends with “.com.” 

 

However, my president feels that I and you are merely The Little People, simpletons who must be coaxed with treats in order to do what he thinks is good for us. He and Anheuser-Busch, a Belgian multi-national, have colluded in offering each American a $5 gift certificate, good only for Anheuser-Busch products, if we will take our medicine like good little girls and boys.

 

When I was a rug-rat Dr. Moore always gave me a lollipop after I had a jab, assuring me, despite my screaming and crying and attempts at escape, that I was a good, brave boy.  My Aunt Lola, Dr. Moore’s RN, would probably have given me a spanking for my nonsense; she was made of sterner stuff.

 

We don’t get lollipops now. We’re adults. We make adult choices without being offered shiny things.

 

In Florida they might offer you a cryptobeer. You can’t see it, taste it, or touch it, but trust us, it’s real.

 

Maybe $20 of glass beads would work as well.

 

Other authorities offer raffle tickets, and there’s nothing that says responsible medical care like raffle tickets.

 

Maybe the governor of Texas will offer a drawing for an AR to swagger around with, only I’ll bet you can’t swagger into his house or workplace with one.

 

Was Hunter Biden given a new laptop for his jab?

 

Did the two Trump boys receive new hunting rifles?

 

But in the end (actually, they give you the jab in the arm, not the end), the one serious matter is this:  should you take the jab? That’s not my call, but neither is it Dr. InterNet’s. My one recommendation is that you should visit face-to-face with a nurse-practitioner or medical doctor, speak your concerns, and then listen. Listen. And then you must make an adult choice for yourself.

 

 

Free beer? Anheuser-Busch will buy you a round if America reaches Biden's July 4 vaccination goal - CBS News

 

How to Get Free Beer if U.S. Vaccine Goal Is Reached (newsweek.com)

 

Free beer, other new incentives for Biden's 'vaccine sprint' - ABC News (go.com)

 

Budweiser (forbes.com)

 

-30-

 

Like Candles When They Quietly Go Out - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Like Candles When They Quietly Go Out

 

He mourns the sons of princes, sown in the dust

 

-The Seafarer

 

When we were young

A friend once showed me a passage in a book

In which the monks of a certain cloistered order

Were often blessed with wonderfully peaceful deaths

Like candles when they quietly go out

 

Domine exaudi orationem meam

 

Now we are old

Our books require a rather larger print

Our foolish dreams were put by long ago

And the works of our youth are memories

Like candles when they quietly go out

 

Domine exaudi orationem meam

 

And we are candles

Still giving out a little bit of light

Anticipating with hope the morning Sun

 

Domine exaudi orationem meam

Saturday, June 5, 2021

The Vocabulary of the Comments Section - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

The Vocabulary of the Comments Section

 

...he held the proper opinions for the time of year

 

-Auden, "The Unknown Citizen"

 

No words

Just no words

I have no words

Beyond I have no words

Absolutely beyond I have no words

Absolutely beyond I have no words fact

Absolutely beyond I have no words fact end of

Absolutely beyond I have no words fact end of literally

Absolutely beyond I have no words fact end of literally actually

No words

Friday, June 4, 2021

A Poetry Brawl Down at the Long Branch Saloon - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Poetry Brawl Down at the Long Branch Saloon

 

I wrestled with a line of blank verse until

It fell, all writhing on the floor, and there

It gasped for breath and glared at me with hate

Each syllable grating against another

 

“You have a sorry accent,” it snarled

“And when my rhythm rises I will make you

A dactyl fallen or a trochee tripped

With my booted and spurred iambic feet!”

 

But we shook hands, and let our quarrel cease

And so at Miss Kitty’s there was

Syllabic accentuation at peace

Thursday, June 3, 2021

An Instruction in the Virtue of Patience for New Teachers - rhyming couplet

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

An Instruction in the Virtue of Patience for New Teachers

 

This truth in teaching children must be told:

A high school boy’s eyes are perpetually rolled

Wednesday, June 2, 2021

A Tribute to Gussie Fink-Nottle - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Tribute to Gussie Fink-Nottle

 

From an idea suggested by W. K. Kortas

 

Now be ye all upstanding, and charge your drinks

And let us lift a glass of orange juice

To all inebriated newt fanciers

(And God bless Market Snodsbury Grammar School)

 

And of all inebriated new fanciers

None is fancier than Gussie Fink-Nottle

None better with the newts, none worse with the girls

(And God bless Market Snodsbury Grammar School)

 

God bless the newts in Trafalgar fountain and pool

(And God bless Market Snodsbury Grammar School)

Tuesday, June 1, 2021

Death at 0200 - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Death at 0200

 

Graduation shouldn’t be marked with casualty lists

Commencement’s happiness blighted by dawn

The quotes from Frost and Lincoln ashes and smoke

“Go forth!” now cancelled by “services pending”

 

Graduation shouldn’t be marked by casualty lists

A seat in university taken by another

A summer wedding that will never take place

A name not on the roll at recruit training

 

Graduation shouldn’t be marked by casualty lists

Of lives ended in the springtime of youth