Sunday, July 5, 2020
The Good, the True, the Beautiful, and the Assistant Principal - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Of math the assistant principal spoke:
The elegance of a geometric proof
When it brightens the mind, the eye the sky
Completing a song of the universe
Of poetry a teacher rattled on:
The elegance of rhythmic verse that tells
Of dancing stars and dreaming mists and life
Completing a song of the seasons of man
Because
All learning is not only right and dutiful
It is a matter of
The Good, the True, and the Beautiful
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The Good, the True, the Beautiful, and the Assistant Principal
(Well, three out of four, eh?)
For David Pitts,
Who Honors his Students
Of math the assistant principal spoke:
The elegance of a geometric proof
When it brightens the mind, the eye the sky
Completing a song of the universe
Of poetry a teacher rattled on:
The elegance of rhythmic verse that tells
Of dancing stars and dreaming mists and life
Completing a song of the seasons of man
Because
All learning is not only right and dutiful
It is a matter of
The Good, the True, and the Beautiful
Saturday, July 4, 2020
Veterans Drinking Coffee at the Angkor Wat Happy Doughnut Shop on the Fourth of July - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Everything else was closed, so here we are
At the next table three textbooks are spread:
Physics, Algebra II, and Calculus
The owner’s kid, wiping counters today
Come-from-away children cook and clean, sweep floors
And in between their chores are at their books
The native-born are still abed, asleep
In a smart-phone hangover of lethargy
Last night a man rattled on about glory
He wasn’t with us on the Vam Co Tay
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Veterans Drinking Coffee at the Angkor Wat Happy Doughnut Shop
on the Fourth of July
Everything else was closed, so here we are
At the next table three textbooks are spread:
Physics, Algebra II, and Calculus
The owner’s kid, wiping counters today
Come-from-away children cook and clean, sweep floors
And in between their chores are at their books
The native-born are still abed, asleep
In a smart-phone hangover of lethargy
Last night a man rattled on about glory
He wasn’t with us on the Vam Co Tay
Friday, July 3, 2020
Isolated from the Book Shop for Four Months - poetry
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
But maybe not much longer…
A Barnes & Noble is a happy place
Where my book budget goes to lose itself
In the poetry section first, and then
To the music by way of the magazines
A Barnes & Noble is that happy place
Where my weary soul goes to find itself –
And that errant budget – among the shelves
Of civilization in a quiet room
Then coffee and croissants (and a six-foot space!)
Yes, Barnes & Noble is my happy place
mhall46184@aol.com
Isolated from the Book Shop for Four Months
But maybe not much longer…
A Barnes & Noble is a happy place
Where my book budget goes to lose itself
In the poetry section first, and then
To the music by way of the magazines
A Barnes & Noble is that happy place
Where my weary soul goes to find itself –
And that errant budget – among the shelves
Of civilization in a quiet room
Then coffee and croissants (and a six-foot space!)
Yes, Barnes & Noble is my happy place
Thursday, July 2, 2020
"Your Call is Important to Us" - weekly column
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
In the garden of my electronic dreams:
1. Electronics manufacturers and service providers would build better stuff and hire more skilled people to make the gadgets work and the electrons flow instead of hiring script-readers who take an hour of the customer’s time to explain in vague terms why nothing is working and somehow infer that it's your fault for not knowing a superheterodyne bus bar from the Tiki Bar, but, hey, “Your call is important to us.”
2. The FCC and the FTC would DO THEIR JOBS about sneaky offshore billing, foreign and domestic scams, tricky contracts, and corporate bullying of the vulnerable.
3. “Tiffany” and “Brian” at customer service would be honest about what their names really are and what country they are calling from, and that they are working at a ‘phone bank for rotten wages because they were never able to pass freshman English.
4. Any service provider saying “Your call is important to us” would not be executed – not for a first offense, that is.
5. Whatever sick, twisted wretch who generated the latest (Famous Brand Name) series of browsers should receive life with only a slim possibility of parole.
6. InterGossip providers would stop LYING about everything.
7. InterGossip service for the rest of us would work as well as it does for rioters.
8. For every minute a customer is on hold he or she receives a dollar off the next bill.
9. Criminals, not police, would have to wear body cams, and if the cameras didn’t work then the U. K. Daily Mail and the electronic mob would presume guilt.
10. There would be no telephone trees (“If you know your extension…”). Just answer the da®ned phone.
11. Every time a customer receives a message saying “All our lines are busy right now…” the president of the company receives a mild electric shock.
12. Customer service representatives would answer the question that was asked, not drift off into an alternative universe.
13. NO ROBOTS (“I’m sorry, I didn’t understand that…”).
14. Every time MicroPlop declares a browser outdated (“heritage” or “legacy”), the customer receives a $500 rebate for the nuisance of having to learn the eccentricities of an unnecessary new dashboard which doesn’t work as well as the old one anyway and which loses all your bookmarks and addresses.
15. Every time a tech company says, “You’re due for an upgrade” instead of “We want to sell you a more expensive ‘phone,” someone gets a spanking.
Bonus: Mark Zuckerberg would be arrested for his haircut, and his barber subpoenaed for testimony.
And, hey, your call is important to us.
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
“Your Call is Important to Us”
In the garden of my electronic dreams:
1. Electronics manufacturers and service providers would build better stuff and hire more skilled people to make the gadgets work and the electrons flow instead of hiring script-readers who take an hour of the customer’s time to explain in vague terms why nothing is working and somehow infer that it's your fault for not knowing a superheterodyne bus bar from the Tiki Bar, but, hey, “Your call is important to us.”
2. The FCC and the FTC would DO THEIR JOBS about sneaky offshore billing, foreign and domestic scams, tricky contracts, and corporate bullying of the vulnerable.
3. “Tiffany” and “Brian” at customer service would be honest about what their names really are and what country they are calling from, and that they are working at a ‘phone bank for rotten wages because they were never able to pass freshman English.
4. Any service provider saying “Your call is important to us” would not be executed – not for a first offense, that is.
5. Whatever sick, twisted wretch who generated the latest (Famous Brand Name) series of browsers should receive life with only a slim possibility of parole.
6. InterGossip providers would stop LYING about everything.
7. InterGossip service for the rest of us would work as well as it does for rioters.
8. For every minute a customer is on hold he or she receives a dollar off the next bill.
9. Criminals, not police, would have to wear body cams, and if the cameras didn’t work then the U. K. Daily Mail and the electronic mob would presume guilt.
10. There would be no telephone trees (“If you know your extension…”). Just answer the da®ned phone.
11. Every time a customer receives a message saying “All our lines are busy right now…” the president of the company receives a mild electric shock.
12. Customer service representatives would answer the question that was asked, not drift off into an alternative universe.
13. NO ROBOTS (“I’m sorry, I didn’t understand that…”).
14. Every time MicroPlop declares a browser outdated (“heritage” or “legacy”), the customer receives a $500 rebate for the nuisance of having to learn the eccentricities of an unnecessary new dashboard which doesn’t work as well as the old one anyway and which loses all your bookmarks and addresses.
15. Every time a tech company says, “You’re due for an upgrade” instead of “We want to sell you a more expensive ‘phone,” someone gets a spanking.
Bonus: Mark Zuckerberg would be arrested for his haircut, and his barber subpoenaed for testimony.
And, hey, your call is important to us.
-30-
Sunflower Apogee - Haiku
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The sunflowers droop
And so do we – Midsummer
Is a sleepy time
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Sunflower Apogee
The sunflowers droop
And so do we – Midsummer
Is a sleepy time
Wednesday, July 1, 2020
A Casual Conversation with a Goddess - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
What if the moon wants to whisper back to me?
The sky is dark and lonely high up there
Where the goddess sails through an eternally starlit sea
In orbits fixed above earth’s guarded air
Perhaps she is lonely for her brother Helios
And for Endymion, whom she still mourns
And for her sister, dear spritely Eos
Her playfellow in dances to Pan-pipes and horns
What if the moon wants to whisper back to me?
I should listen to her – don’t you agree?
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A Casual Conversation with a Goddess
What if the moon wants to whisper back to me?
The sky is dark and lonely high up there
Where the goddess sails through an eternally starlit sea
In orbits fixed above earth’s guarded air
Perhaps she is lonely for her brother Helios
And for Endymion, whom she still mourns
And for her sister, dear spritely Eos
Her playfellow in dances to Pan-pipes and horns
What if the moon wants to whisper back to me?
I should listen to her – don’t you agree?
Tuesday, June 30, 2020
Karens - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
I love me my Karens, good, sweet, and kind:
Junior high love-notes and school yard flirtations
The prom date that never happened because
“I really like you – just like a brother”
Karen in the Navy, Karen at work
Karen the artist, Karen in the shop
Karen in her lab coat, Karen in class
Karen the doctor, and Karen the cop
I love me my Karens, good, sweet, and kind:
Dear happy memories, in heart and mind
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Karens
I love me my Karens, good, sweet, and kind:
Junior high love-notes and school yard flirtations
The prom date that never happened because
“I really like you – just like a brother”
Karen in the Navy, Karen at work
Karen the artist, Karen in the shop
Karen in her lab coat, Karen in class
Karen the doctor, and Karen the cop
I love me my Karens, good, sweet, and kind:
Dear happy memories, in heart and mind
Monday, June 29, 2020
Not to Decide is to Decide Blah-Blah - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Not to decide is to decide indeed
A decision defiant in itself
To stand against all chaos and proclaim:
“I have not decided”
Not to decide is a courageous act
When a false binary demands your soul
Your spirit, your very self, and you respond:
“I decide for myself”
Not to decide is to dismiss a tyrant:
“You are irrelevant”
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Not to Decide is to Decide Blah-Blah
Not to decide is to decide indeed
A decision defiant in itself
To stand against all chaos and proclaim:
“I have not decided”
Not to decide is a courageous act
When a false binary demands your soul
Your spirit, your very self, and you respond:
“I decide for myself”
Not to decide is to dismiss a tyrant:
“You are irrelevant”
Sunday, June 28, 2020
Just Wear the Stupid Mask, Okay?
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Just wear the stupid mask, okay?
Yeah, yeah, we know you’re not afraid
Of any ol’ virus that comes your way
(Says your cousin the almost-nurses’ aide)
And someone on the GossipNet
He said that some doctor somewhere
Said Studies Show (oh, yeah, you bet) 1
That masks let through all sorts of air
Yeah, stud, you’ll take that virus down
Ground it with just one wrestling toss
And run its tentacles out of town:
You’ll show that bug just who is boss!
But
Your Granny’s still weak after surgery
And Uncle’s always short of breath
And children – you wouldn’t want, you see
To let your ego cause a baby’s death
1 Because, like, you know, Studies Show, and who are we to argue with such a reliable source as Studies Show?
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Just Wear the Stupid Mask, Okay?
Tiresome, didactic doggerel, but it’s important tiresome, didactic doggerel
Just wear the stupid mask, okay?
Yeah, yeah, we know you’re not afraid
Of any ol’ virus that comes your way
(Says your cousin the almost-nurses’ aide)
And someone on the GossipNet
He said that some doctor somewhere
Said Studies Show (oh, yeah, you bet) 1
That masks let through all sorts of air
Yeah, stud, you’ll take that virus down
Ground it with just one wrestling toss
And run its tentacles out of town:
You’ll show that bug just who is boss!
But
Your Granny’s still weak after surgery
And Uncle’s always short of breath
And children – you wouldn’t want, you see
To let your ego cause a baby’s death
1 Because, like, you know, Studies Show, and who are we to argue with such a reliable source as Studies Show?
Saturday, June 27, 2020
Ships of Theseus - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Every seven years, some say, we are renewed
In coded sequences not understood
Animal cells, well-timed, within us die
They leave forever, replaced and not refreshed
But even so, our selves are still our selves
And condemnations from the past endure
And praises, too, all of them a little worn
And the remember whens are an ever now
Then what...?
The eternal Wind
The eternal Wind that was before we are
Is the Forever following our little ships
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Ships of Theseus
Every seven years, some say, we are renewed
In coded sequences not understood
Animal cells, well-timed, within us die
They leave forever, replaced and not refreshed
But even so, our selves are still our selves
And condemnations from the past endure
And praises, too, all of them a little worn
And the remember whens are an ever now
Then what...?
The eternal Wind
The eternal Wind that was before we are
Is the Forever following our little ships
Friday, June 26, 2020
"Let There be Sung 'Non Nobis' and 'Te Deum'" - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Vultures circle high in the airy blue
At a distance elegant in their sweeps
Far from the planet surface and its sorrows
As if they are searching for eternal truth
In truth they are searching for something dead
A putrid corpse to rip with their foul beaks
A life interrupted, breath stopped by death
A pig, a cow, a snake, a me, a you
That dark and croaking thing of rot and slime:
A vulture is but a messenger of time
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
“Let There be Sung ‘Non nobis’ and ‘Te Deum’”
-Henry V
Vultures circle high in the airy blue
At a distance elegant in their sweeps
Far from the planet surface and its sorrows
As if they are searching for eternal truth
In truth they are searching for something dead
A putrid corpse to rip with their foul beaks
A life interrupted, breath stopped by death
A pig, a cow, a snake, a me, a you
That dark and croaking thing of rot and slime:
A vulture is but a messenger of time
Thursday, June 25, 2020
A Woke Editing of Brother Robert Frost - weekly column
(Transferring this drivel to the InterGossip made a mess of the formatting, but it was pretty much a mess before it got here.)
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Several statues of Robert Frost grace our land, none of which has yet been mistaken for a Confederate general, but hey, that’s coming.
In anticipation of sculptures of one of our greatest poets being supplanted by animatronic images of, oh, Lenin or Stalin or Miley Cyrus’ get-thee-hence twerking for the cause of understanding that the coronavirus was here first, we must re-write Robert Frost for the sensitivities of the year of the common era 2020. Herein follows a Robert Frost poem beaten into submission and correct thought.
And, hey, DEFUND IAMBIC TETRAMETER!
Whose Collective Scientific Forest this is we think we know
Their Kolkhoz is in The People’s Village, though
They will not see us slacking off our assigned labors unsupervised
To watch The People’s Collective Scientific Forest fill up with global warming
Our collective’s little horse must think it somewhat un-soviet
To stop without The People’s Assigned Living Spaces near
Between The People’s Collective Scientific Forest and global warming lake
The least comradely evening of the second year of our latest five-year-plan
He / She / They gives his / her / their Red Star harness bells a shake
To accuse us of some un-comradely lapse in focusing on our delegated purpose
The only other sound’s the Woodcutters’ Collective Choir, singing our new
international anthem, Comrade Lennon’s “Imagine,”
And global warming wind and Twitter directives
The Collective Scientific Forest is utilitarian and properly gridded, and serves
The Working People
But we have our comradely oaths and work assignments to keep
And kilometers to go before we take our assigned rest in our assigned bunks
And kilometers to go before we take our assigned rest in our assigned bunks
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A Woke Editing of Brother Robert Frost
Several statues of Robert Frost grace our land, none of which has yet been mistaken for a Confederate general, but hey, that’s coming.
In anticipation of sculptures of one of our greatest poets being supplanted by animatronic images of, oh, Lenin or Stalin or Miley Cyrus’ get-thee-hence twerking for the cause of understanding that the coronavirus was here first, we must re-write Robert Frost for the sensitivities of the year of the common era 2020. Herein follows a Robert Frost poem beaten into submission and correct thought.
And, hey, DEFUND IAMBIC TETRAMETER!
Stopping Without Permission
by The People’s Scientific Forest on a Global Warming Evening
Whose Collective Scientific Forest this is we think we know
Their Kolkhoz is in The People’s Village, though
They will not see us slacking off our assigned labors unsupervised
To watch The People’s Collective Scientific Forest fill up with global warming
Our collective’s little horse must think it somewhat un-soviet
To stop without The People’s Assigned Living Spaces near
Between The People’s Collective Scientific Forest and global warming lake
The least comradely evening of the second year of our latest five-year-plan
He / She / They gives his / her / their Red Star harness bells a shake
To accuse us of some un-comradely lapse in focusing on our delegated purpose
The only other sound’s the Woodcutters’ Collective Choir, singing our new
international anthem, Comrade Lennon’s “Imagine,”
And global warming wind and Twitter directives
The Collective Scientific Forest is utilitarian and properly gridded, and serves
The Working People
But we have our comradely oaths and work assignments to keep
And kilometers to go before we take our assigned rest in our assigned bunks
And kilometers to go before we take our assigned rest in our assigned bunks
-30-
Dentistry Again - poem with lots of self-pity
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Anaesthesia slowly passing from me
Dragging the pain of yesterday along
The muffled echoings of imaginings
Colliding with synapses in the dark
Thinking little beyond a coffee cup
And less upon the pages of a book
With thoughts all scrambled the pages back
And through vague eyes into my foggy brain
How difficult to force even a clumsy rhyme
This ordinary Tuesday in ordinary time
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Dentistry Again
Anaesthesia slowly passing from me
Dragging the pain of yesterday along
The muffled echoings of imaginings
Colliding with synapses in the dark
Thinking little beyond a coffee cup
And less upon the pages of a book
With thoughts all scrambled the pages back
And through vague eyes into my foggy brain
How difficult to force even a clumsy rhyme
This ordinary Tuesday in ordinary time
Wednesday, June 24, 2020
Bees Disapprove of Us - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
There’s nothing the bees care to learn from us
We talk to them anyway in our idleness
Having put away the hose or the rake
We’re in the mood to gab for a little while
But Calvinist bees fly impatiently by
From flower to water to office-hive
To check their quotas and hum their reports
Then speed back to their favorite flowered fields
They disapprove of us indolent men
And so rebuke us for our slothy sin
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Bees Disapprove of Us
There’s nothing the bees care to learn from us
We talk to them anyway in our idleness
Having put away the hose or the rake
We’re in the mood to gab for a little while
But Calvinist bees fly impatiently by
From flower to water to office-hive
To check their quotas and hum their reports
Then speed back to their favorite flowered fields
They disapprove of us indolent men
And so rebuke us for our slothy sin
Tuesday, June 23, 2020
A Viking Funeral for a Fisherman - Frivolous Doggerel
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
When I die:
Just place my body in my old bass boat
With a cooler of beer at my sneakered feet
And anchor me with an old fishing float
Secured with a bowline to the forward cleat
In my left hand place my best Shakespeare reel
And in my right a stinky old cigar
Saint Peter’s Fish in my dad’s wicker creel
Then point the boat’s prow to the brightest star
It’s now the fishes’ turn; I’ll be their food
Powered off to Glory by an Evinrude
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A Viking Funeral for a Fisherman
When I die:
Just place my body in my old bass boat
With a cooler of beer at my sneakered feet
And anchor me with an old fishing float
Secured with a bowline to the forward cleat
In my left hand place my best Shakespeare reel
And in my right a stinky old cigar
Saint Peter’s Fish in my dad’s wicker creel
Then point the boat’s prow to the brightest star
It’s now the fishes’ turn; I’ll be their food
Powered off to Glory by an Evinrude
Monday, June 22, 2020
The Theory and Practice of Summer - poem
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Summer is better in theory than in practice:
Watermelon days barefootin’ in the shade
Pole-fishing for perch in the neighbor’s pond
Oak-tree afternoons lost in a library book
Oh, no
Up before dawn to get the milk cows in
Fence-building blisters in the prickly heat
Pulling the weeds in Mama’s garden plot
And hauling to the barn late August hay
Oh, yes
Summer’s not what it could be, as a rule
But still it’s good because there ain’t no school!
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The Theory and Practice of Summer
June is Dairy Month
Summer is better in theory than in practice:
Watermelon days barefootin’ in the shade
Pole-fishing for perch in the neighbor’s pond
Oak-tree afternoons lost in a library book
Oh, no
Up before dawn to get the milk cows in
Fence-building blisters in the prickly heat
Pulling the weeds in Mama’s garden plot
And hauling to the barn late August hay
Oh, yes
Summer’s not what it could be, as a rule
But still it’s good because there ain’t no school!
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