Monday, November 11, 2024

Which Karamazov are You? - poem

  

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Which Karamazov are You?

 

Wise Dostoyevksy

Writes with holy words the mysteries  

Of the Russian soul

Which Karamazov are You? - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Which Karamazov are You?

 

Wise Dostoyevksy

Writes with holy words the mysteries  

Of the Russian soul

Saturday, November 9, 2024

For Remembrance Day / Veterans' Day: An Old G.I. Belt Buckle - Poem

  

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

An Old G.I. Belt Buckle

 

 

For Storekeeper Third Class Thomas of Knoxville, Tennessee

 

“What he believed, he did.”

 

-Laurence Binyon

 

“In Memory of George Calderon”

 

 

An old belt buckle in the back of a shelf

Greening brass on a belt now much too short

Maybe the same one I wore on the Vam Co Tay

Scattered thoughts shift to Thomas; I don’t know why

 

A good man with a clipboard and a fifty-cal

Sitting on the edge of a bunk feeding a child

Spooning c-rats and making the kid laugh

“One for meeee…and one for youuuu!”

 

I wonder whatever happened to good ‘ol Thomas

I wonder whatever happened to the child

 

I wonder whatever happened to all of us

Friday, November 8, 2024

Atheist Chaplains Forging Mixed Metaphors - poem (of a sort)

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Atheist Chaplains Forging Mixed Metaphors

 

“Atheist chaplains are forging a new path in a changing world”

 

-CNN 7 November 2024

 

One seldom thinks of chaplains at a forge

Work-weary, work-stained from hours of smoke and sweat

With mighty hammer strokes bending hot iron

To the will of the artisan in useful things

 

Some writers forge nothing but metaphors tired

From overuse, and mixed as verbal soup

In music, art, literature, and life paths can be

 

Cleared

Paved

Traveled

Surveyed

explored

Followed

Noted

Marked

Mapped

Found

 

But it is not in the nature of paths to be forged

 

Atheist chaplains and metaphor soup

Are nothing more than an ouroborosian loop

 

(Look upon this fresh metaphor and neologism

And despair)

Monday, November 4, 2024

Election Night 2024: Dry Bones - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Election Night 2024: Dry Bones

 

 

“All we are, basically, are monkeys with car keys”

 

-Grandma Woody in Northern Exposure, “Animals R Us,” 1991

 

 

An early dusk falls under clouds from the Gulf

Yellow houselights wink on as daylight winks off

Supper in greasy bags from fast-fooderies

That everyone argues they can’t afford

 

Then like the lozenge in A Space Odyssey

A screen appears and dominates all

And family groupings center themselves around it

In excited cavortings before the images

 

Of brightly-colored cultic election scores

As fists swinging dry bones crush enemy skulls

Sunday, November 3, 2024

Nora, Theo, and Pushkin-the-Rescue-Cat - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Nora, Theo, and Pushkin-the-Rescue-Cat

 

After rough adventures Pushkin has found his way home

The children celebrate with him his happy new life

By crowning their purring prince with vines and flowers

And he is pleased to accept their adoration and love

 

Too soon children must leave their merriments

And rebuild civilization among the wreckages

In a time of hatreds and ideologies

When all seem to have forgotten the way to Jerusalem

 

And so for now

 

May children enjoy the springtime of their lives

For they (and the cat) remind us of our appointed path

Friday, November 1, 2024

Porta Coeli - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Porta Coeli

 

“I pray you, sir, remember the porter”

 

-Macbeth II.iii.20ff

 

We are all porters; we open doors for others

Sometimes we open them for ourselves

If we close a door, it is against the rain and cold

And not against each other

 

(Yes, in Macbeth the Porter is drunk and inept, and when he says “remember the porter” he is asking for a tip in spite of his incompetence. I put the line in anyway because we are all porters.)