"I Don't Know What's Going on in There!" - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

“I Don’t Know What’s Going on in There!”

 

 

“Oh, you have made me very angry, very angry indeed!”

 

-Marvin the Martian in a Bugs Bunny cartoon

 

 

The convention would be to say he stormed out of church

But in his time of life he can’t storm at all

Except maybe like Marvin the Martian

(If Martians suffer arthritis and age) while I held the door for him

 

(No, not for a Martian, for a creaky, cranky old earthling)

 

“You saw me come in! I came to Mass! Now I’m going out!

I don’t know what’s going on in there! It’s all a mess!

And I don’t have to put up with it! I’ll watch Mass on t.v.!”

I never learned what was going on in there

Divine services are like that – what do we really know?

But he, and I, and you – we just do our best

Music for Biology Class - doggerel

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

Music for Biology Class

                                                            for Miss Rose Althea Holmes

                                                                    of happy memory

According to the curriculum code

This week we are in dissection mode

Each waving a tiny knife and prick and goad

Let us now sing “Song of the Open Toad”

Hot Scrambled Verse Comin' Right Up! - poem (of a sort)

  

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

Hot Scrambled Verse Comin’ Right Up!

 

Too hot to read

Too hot to write

Too hot to think                      coherently

Too hot to sort an iamb from an iambnot

 

(Gasp!)

When I Was a Child I Saw a Dinosaur - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

When I was a Child I Saw a Dinosaur

 

 

There are not going to be many more dinosaurs

 

-C. S. Lewis, “De Descriptione Temporum,” 1955

 

 

When I was a child I saw a dinosaur

A dinosaur at the end of the lane

Rearing its head high above the pasture gate

It might want to eat little boys, I feared

 

So I held really still, and closed my eyes

And closed my eyes, so tightly closed my eyes

And closed my eyes, and then…opened my eyes –

The dinosaur (it didn’t roar) was still there!

 

When I was a child I saw a dinosaur

A real-life little-boy-hungry carnivore!

 

I wish I could see it again

A Typewriter Maps the Battlefield of the Mind - poem

  

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

A Typewriter Maps the Battlefield of the Mind

 

Everyone who survived began a book

In basements, cheap apartments, or rented rooms

Underwoods clattering in anger, in rage

For corpses floating down the Vam Co Tay

 

Coffee cups, beer rings, stolen motel ashtrays

Cigarette smoke wreath around the keys

While muses watched from the crumbling plaster wall

Maybe a crucifix, maybe Miss March

 

Cheap typing paper from the corner store

A sandwich falling apart along with life

A last assault through a paragraph

Before rushing to the bus stop for the night shift

 

“Y’all wasn’t in a real war,” the old men said

But the memories and the typewriter keys

                                                          Still bled

A Critical Topic in Jewish-Catholic Interfaith Dialogue - doggerel

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

A Critical Topic in Jewish-Catholic Interfaith Dialogue

 

When eating hot dogs made with Hebrew National franks

Do we say grace with “Toda”

                                            “Grates”

                                                           or

                                                                “Thanks?”

Cute Little Biological Markers - poor attempts at Senryu

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

Cute Little Biological Markers

 

For our Emily

Who set a thoughtful challenge

To define the term

 

The lives of our frogs

Biological markers

Tell us of toxins

 

If frogs have clean air

And fresh clean water and bugs

We will have clean frogs

 

Healthy little frogs

To celebrate our health too

They give us great joy!

"They Knew What They Signed Up For" - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

“They Knew What They Signed Up For”

 

That cruel dismissal is from some keyboard commando

Who memorized every line from Patton

But never volunteered for anything himself

Except for a two-layered two-fer at McDonald’s

Tom Swift of I.C.E. and His Electric Gloves - doggerel

  

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

Tom Swift and His Bully Electric Gloves

 

 

The G.L.O.V.E. — CD3 Compliance Tool | Compliant Technologies

 

 

Compliant Technologies of Kentucky

Makes gloves for you – “low voltage” electric love

To hurt your face better than mace (if you’re lucky)

So be Compliant, or else

                                           - Your Loving Gov

The End of August, and the Dragon is Here - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

The End of August, and the Dragon is Here

 

We are taught in science class that heat rises

Because molecules bash each other

And thus thinned are lifted by denser air -

Raise your convections if you believe it is so!

 

The month of August persuades us otherwise

Late-summer molecules are dragon-hot

Ssssssteam-blooded reptiliansssss ssssssucking our sssssssouls

While hisssssing their sssssibilant sssssssatanic hymnsssss

 

Heat rises, we are taught in science class -

But in August it slithers lowwwww in the grass

A Summer Processional in Honor of Structured Poetry - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

A Summer Processional in Honor of Structured Poetry

 

 

[I]ambic pentameter…is the very breath of English verse.

 

-Stephen Fry, The Ode Less Travelled

 

 

Wind August heat drought grass shade lawn tree crows ‘possum headache mourning doves clouds and sun blue jays humidity cardinals longings for autumn egrets unseen airplanes lawn chairs heat-shimmering hayfield early acorns bees grapevines trumpet vines porch fans spinning in futility just any old way  

 

Bolts and locks in chaos waving and rushing up against and to and into our exiled poetic minds

 

Ahem! Order and method, please, poet ¹

 

Who amid the alien Saint Augustine grass ²

Sets fading roses in order serviceable ³

Sets the sky aright, above the oaks

Sets meter, orderly and elegant

 

Sets doves in chortling chorus to coo the hours

Sets flowers about in casual good taste

Sets lawn chairs in English here-and-there-ness

Those thrones from whence we serve rather than rule

 

And the days, bearing blessings as vexilla

Process among us with quiet dignity

Singing the verses we write from nature

Until all manner of things shall be made well ⁴

 

 

¹ “Order and method,” Agatha Christie’s Poirot

² “Amid the alien corn,” biblical book of Ruth and numerous other sources

³ “On the Eve of Christ’s Nativity,” Milton

⁴ “Showings,” St. Julian of Norwich

The Leader of the Free World Aboard His Chariot of the Gods - doggerel, but no dog

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

The Leader of the Free World Aboard His Chariot of the Gods

 

When the food truck speeds off, making a run

Just think of it as our majestic Air Force One

Poets Speak of Hay - poem

  

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

Poets Speak of Hay

 

For Nat Lipstadt, Ken Pepiton, VerseBuster, and Billy Collins

 

I was raised on a farm

Which did me no harm

But bales of hay

And stacks of hay

Pitching hay

Filling the old pickup with hay

And a trailer of hay

Hay and hay and more hay

In the heat of each midsummer day

Day after day after day

(You may channel Coleridge's Ancient Mariner here)

The old barn full of hay Hot, musty, fusty, allergenic hay

Day after musty, fusty, allergenic day

Hot day, hot, hot, hot every da®ned day

You may

Have my hay

As Dimitri Karamazov did not say

 "A ticket for hay? I herewith return my ticket!"

Night of the Murdered Poets, 12 August 1952

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

Night of the Murdered Poets, 12 August 1952

 

Not a poem, just a plea:

 

 

Of your mercy please pray for the repose of the souls

of all people murdered for their witness to truth

 

The Night of the Murdered Poets – For Reading Addicts

Night of the Murdered Poets - Wikipedia

night of the murdered poets book - Search

The New Air Force One - clipping from alamy

 

The Girl with the Pearl Nose Ring - a poor attempt at senryu

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

The Girl with the Pearl Nose Ring

 

Not from Vermeer

 

“Girls purty as me

Shouldn’t have to work for a livin’

That’s what men are for”

That Famous Participation Trophy - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

That Famous Participation Trophy

 

One hears of that participation trophy-trope

A theme, a meme, mostly by cranky old men

Withered gaffer-gossips condemning the young

For being rewarded simply for showing up

 

Like Santa Claus it might be a good idea

I still listen for sleigh bells every Christmas

And yet – I have never seen a participation trophy

If you find one, call; you have my number

 

And, speaking of unearned rewards,

 

We’re presented a trophy each morning, just for fun

When God gives each of us a golden sun!

For the Feast of Saint Lawrence, 10 August 2026 - doggerel

  Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

For the Feast of Saint Lawrence

 

Today is the Feast of Saint Lawrence

His faith and martyrdom we already knew

We remember his death with a sense of abhorrence -

It's not an occasion for a barbecue!

When Biologists Fall in Love - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

When Biologists Fall in Love

 

There are many things that a frog doesn’t know:

That he is a biological marker

That he doesn’t sing as well as Chevalier

That green is not appropriate evening wear

 

But he knows the bugs are tasty on my window screen

That he feels froggy this warm summer night

That he sings well enough for m’lady frog

That she admires him in his cool green coat

 

And now the stars are brighter and the evening is darker:

Will you be my sweet biological marker?

Happy Little Raindrops for Children and Liberal Arts Graduates - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

Happy Little Raindrops for Children and Liberal Arts Graduates

 

Do you suppose a raindrop laughs as it falls?

Water vapor floating in the sky

Condenses one little molecule at a time

Wrapping around a particle of dust

 

Can you say, “condensation nuclei?”

 

And why would you?

 

And all these tiny droplets join to form

A larger droplet now too heavy for the air

Which playfully sends it sailing back to earth

Where it seeks for a safe place to land

 

“Hooray!” it cries as down-down-down it goes

To land at last upon your little nose!

All My Neat School Stuff for the First Day of Term - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

All My Neat School Stuff for the First Day of Term

 

The Trapper Keeper is a fun retro thing

I wonder if anyone else will have one

I might start a trend with this ‘way-back look

I wonder if that cute girl will notice me

 

This new graphing calculator is the best

I like the smell of new pencils and paper

And I’m going to rock the opening assembly

In my happenin’ new light hoodie and baggy jeans

 

There won’t be a second day, so on the first

Which of my daddy’s guns should I pack?

You're Okay, Buddy; You're Gonna be Okay - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

You’re Okay, Buddy; You're Gonna be Okay

 

An encouraging smile is a battle dressing

We apply to the wounds of others

A cigarette while waiting for the dust-off

Within a collapsing perimeter

 

You’re okay, buddy; you're gonna be okay

 

I’m not sure I believe in God anymore

It’s okay, buddy; He believes in you

Oh, God, it hurts; why does He hurt me like this

I need a cigarette / I gave you one

 

You’re okay, buddy; you're gonna be okay

 

It’s so loud; everything’s loud; make it stop

I can’t breathe; why can’t I breathe…oh, God

 

You’re okay, buddy

                                You're gonna be

                                                      Okay…

Three Little Friends Spent the Day Playing in my Garden - a poor attempt at Haiku

  

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

Three Little Friends Who Spent the Day Playing in my Garden

 

 

 

Good Night, Brother ‘Possum

 

Dear Brother ‘Possum

Take supper at the cats’ bowl

Then waddle to bed

 

(Opossums are generally nocturnal, but this fuzzy little guy loves the sunny hours.)

 

 

Good Night, Sister Bee

 

You love my flowers

You work among them all day

At dusk fly away

 

 

Good Night, Sister Butterfly

 

You were up early

Floating among the zinnias

See you tomorrow!

I Met a Girl in Newfoundland - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

I Met a Girl in Newfoundland

 

‘Twas in St. John’s on a cold and rainy day

Because most days in St. John’s are rainy and cold

Even in July, when I met a girl clerking in a store

Shivering in a parka as she rang up my purchases

 

“Oh, it’s not all that cold…” I began to jest

When I saw that she was almost in tears

 

“I’ve never been warm in my life,” she sighed

“I’ve never been off this island

And I’ve never been warm”

This is Not About a Casual Acquaintance Named Mohammed - poem

  

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

This is not About a Casual Acquaintance Named Mohammed

 

I really like him, and I would like to ask him

Why some of his co-religionists hate Jews

But we’re not really friends, and so I won’t

Because he might ask me about the Inquisition

 

Or about my great-grandfather, taken prisoner

At Saylor’s Creek (he was on the wrong side, you see)

A docent at Grand Pre’ asked me about my Acadian ancestors

“Not mine” I said; “mine would have been wearing red coats”

 

“Well,” she replied wryly, “Someone had to.”

 

But maybe these things won’t always be so

 

Remember the Sabbath - Praying with the Reicheskirche

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

Remember the Sabbath – Praying with the Reicheskirche

 

Bombs across the sea

Still winning the hearts and minds

Of all the nations

Don't Phone Your Mom - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

Don’t Phone Your Mom

 

US military may require some troops in Mideast to surrender cell phones, sources say

 

The Admiralissimo has ruled and rendered

That since our forces are low on ammunition

Our soldiers’ phones might soon be surrendered

Which will bring our victory to fruition

 

So fight without those unsupplied supplies

The Commies stole through your Apple phone

It’s medals for us officers when an enlisted dies

Now attack with just your testosterone!

 

No phone will record the truth the moment you splatter -

Thank you for your attention to this matter

Hearts and Minds and Books Open to the Autumn Air - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

Hearts and Minds and Books Open to the Autumn Air

 

 

The Dreaming Water Towers of State University

 

“In the quad, where we lay our scene…” 

-As Shakespeare did not say

Math students whose favorite dessert was always pi

Engineering students with leather scabbards at their belts

Ready to charge into battle with their Kueffel and Essers

Against heretics who believed in “It’s close enough”

 

Historians who made the acorns drop

With their thunderous defenses of Pirenne 

And measured Turner’s western frontier thesis

Against the Czarist empire’s eastern lands

 

English majors (and maybe French lieutenants)

Free-versifiers arguing against disciplined meter

The next Rod Mckuen with his guitar

Biologists considering an ant’s nutritional needs

 

And hearts and minds and books, books everywhere -

All open to thought and the autumn air

 

 

 

It wasn’t that dreamy; I worked the night shift seven nights each week and often double shifts on the weekends in order to live and study, and so was constantly tired. But there were indeed golden moments…