Saint Augustine's Stolen Apples, My Dead 'Possum - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Saint Augustine’s Stolen Apples, My Dead ‘Possum

 

Saint Augustine reflected on the sins of his youth

The stolen apples especially bothered him

In his life-long penance and his quest for truth

That memory, somehow, was especially grim

 

As for me I remember a long-ago night

When I flung a dead ‘possum at Miss Cates’ door

I know that such a thing just isn’t right

But she was mean and old (maybe twenty-four)

 

Saint Augustine’s sins hung about him like weights

And I –

I don’t feel bad about tormenting Miss Cates!

 

 

(My friend Gordon and I found the ‘possum as ripe roadkill, and the deed quickly followed the inspiration. I did the tossing because Gordon was the getaway driver. Miss Cates was a brand-new teacher and probably quite nice. I do know that we were little jerks and that she deserved better. Gordon won the Silver Star in Viet-Nam, was a good husband and a beloved stepfather, and died in early middle age.)

In Praise of a Candle - poem

 Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

In Praise of a Candle

 

These are thy gifts; they are good

 

-Saint Augustine, City of God, Book 15, Chapter 22

 

A votive candle is good, and prayers are good

And those for whom the candle is lit are good

Especially when they feel they are not good

Because they are His gifts, and they are good

 

When we light a candle for someone else

We light it for ourselves, all without knowing

In the workings of the Ekonomia

Because we are His gifts, and we are good

 

In spite of ourselves – we must accept it

As the little candle shines on through the night

Saint Augustine of Africa

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

Saint Augustine of Africa

Between the desert and the sea
Along an ancient Roman way
A man writes for eternity
Living words against a dying day