Sunday, October 18, 2020

The Unfashion of the Romantics - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

The Unfashion of the Romantics

 

…the romance of intellectual adventure.

 

-Daisy Hay, preface to Young Romantics

 

Thesis:

 

The Romantics are simply demode, my dear

Those structured paleo-colonialists

Who rattle on about flowers and love

And craft blank verse about walks in the wood

 

Antithesis:

 

Oh, but note, if you will, young lovers who

Thoughtlessly put their sunlit heads together

Over an open Keats, reading to each other

Among the unwritten leaves of their youth

 

And now note, if you will, young thinkers who

Thoughtfully put their sunlit words together

Over an open Byron, arguing for freedom

Among and for the peoples of the earth

 

Synthesis:

 

The young are lines of iambic pentameter

New lines, new lives, discovered in each other

 

 

 

Saturday, October 17, 2020

Venus is Beautiful Tonight - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Venus is Beautiful Tonight

 

Venus is beautiful tonight, and so is Mars

Heaven’s husbandry 1 is generous this month

With a fine show of planets, stars, and dreams

To cheer us with their silent happiness

 

Tomorrow will be cold; cold rain will fall

From the husbandry of autumn clouds

Bathing the grasses, trees, gardens, and fields

Getting each sleepyhead ready for bed

 

We have our coffee and a little light jazz

Venus is beautiful tonight - and so are you

 

 

 

1 Macbeth II.i.v-vi.

Friday, October 16, 2020

Isometric Exercises against Walls - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Isometric Exercises against Walls

 

They have piled up walls; we push against walls

We push against them with our bodies and minds

The walls do not move, and we hurt

But we grow strong

 

They have piled up walls; we write lines upon walls

We speak against walls with our words and hearts

The walls do not fall, and we hurt

But we still speak

 

They have piled up walls; we pray against walls

And we grow strong

And we still speak

And we still love

 

But They Didn't Give me an "I VOTED" Sticker - weekly column

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

But They Didn’t Give Me an “I VOTED” Sticker

 

At the bottom of all the tributes paid to democracy is the little man, walking into the little booth, with a little pencil, making a little cross on a little bit of paper - no amount of rhetoric or voluminous discussion can possibly diminish the overwhelming importance of the point.

 

-attributed to Winston Churchill

 

On the Orwellian telescreen the newsies daily give us Apocalyptic stories about the near-impossibility of voting, featuring long lines and stress at the polls, and brief interviews with the sort of people whose mothers never taught them not to say stupid things in public.

 

My voting experience did not match any of the fashionable sturm und drang. I was on my way for lunch for a friend and voted without long lines, riots, or menacing meanies at a sub-courthouse / cop shop down the road from Stoplight, Texas.

 

There was a short wait because of CV requirements and because the fellow ahead of me thought the sign about not talking on MePhones didn’t apply to him.

 

At the entrance to the building reposed a metal frame featuring little green lights at about four feet and again at six feet; a shepherdess advised me I could place my wrist to the lower light or my forehead to the higher light. Always going for that higher light. I assumed that the lights indicated sensors for measuring my temperature, but it may have been a Q plot to absorb my mind.

 

I’m glad they didn’t take my temp with one of those large plastic guns which they point at your head as if you have gotten crossways of the godfather.

 

Or at least that’s what Q would have you believe.

 

Once past the Frame of the Green Lights I was shown into a small room where I was asked to present my voter card and my driving license to another shepherdess. I joked that I hadn’t planned to drive the ballot, but she wasn’t amused.

 

She placed both cards into machines with illuminated them with blue lights, presumably scanning them for secret information about the time the C.I.A. parachuted me into Russia on a secret mission to…but you could ask Q about that.

 

Another shepherdess returned both cards to me and gave me a blunt stylus for signing my name on a little screen just like at the supermarket (this week’s special is democracy), gave me a paper ballot (how quaint) and a blue pen, and directed me to a carrel set on a folding table.

 

And there, I voted, exercising not simply a citizen’s right but a citizen’s duty to participate meaningfully in the self-government of our Republic. All the ads, all the talking, all the ‘blogging, all the arguing, and all the up-or-down marks in the Daily Mail are irrelevant. The action is in voting.

 

How easy could it be! The poll workers were unfailingly polite and professional in every way, the system worked, and I was out in less than ten minutes.

 

There was one disappointment, though – I wasn’t given one of those nifty “I VOTED” stickers.

 

Well, I think that I and the Republic will both survive anyway.

 

-30-

Thursday, October 15, 2020

90,000 Screaming Fans

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

90,000 Screaming Fans

 

There are those like Norfolk who follow me because I wear the crown, there are those like Master Cromwell who follow me because they are jackals with sharp teeth and I'm their tiger, there's a mass that follows me because it follows anything that moves. And then there's you.

 

-Henry VII to Thomas More in A Man for All Seasons

 

Bahhhhhhhhh!  Yip! Yip! Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo! Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny!  Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Bahhhhhhhhh!  Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo! Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny!  Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Yike! Yike! Yike! Bahhhhhhhhh!  Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo! Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny!  Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Bahhhhhhhhh!  Yip! Yip! Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo! Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny!  Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Bahhhhhhhhh!  Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo! Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny!  Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Yike! Yike! Yike! Bahhhhhhhhh!  Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo! Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny!  Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Bahhhhhhhhh!  Yip! Yip! Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo!Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny!  Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Bahhhhhhhhh!  Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo! Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny!  Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Yike! Yike! Yike! Bahhhhhhhhh!  Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo! Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny!  Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Yip! Yip! Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo!Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny!  Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Bahhhhhhhhh!  Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo!Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny!  Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh! Yike! Yike! Yike! Bahhhhhhhhh!  Yip! Oink! Squawk! Mooooooooooooooo! Squeak! Cluck! Bleat! Hee hawwwwwww! Screech! Whinnnnny!  Snort! Grunt! Oink! Neighhhhhh!

 

 

https://apnews.com/article/virus-outbreak-college-football-dan-mullen-gainesville-football-1e21c3bd07b05e4ea0ecd02fa9923679

Wednesday, October 14, 2020

Because the Rattlesnake Ate a Kitten - poem

 

Because the Rattlesnake Ate a Kitten

 

We heard the agonized shrieks of a kitten

As it was being eaten by a rattlesnake

And rushed to find that well-fed dragon at rest

As it digested a little girl’s friend

 

“Snakes are part of the balance of nature”

“It was only doing what it was supposed to do”

“Snakes keep down mice and rats and other pests”

“We are obligated to honor God’s plan”

 

Yeah?

 

That devourer of baby bunnies, squirrels, and household pets -

I shot the ***-of-a-***** without regrets

Tuesday, October 13, 2020

Social Distancing is a Gilligan's Island Re-run

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Social Distancing is a Gilligan’s Island Re-run

 

Because the CV has cancelled new shows

And yet another Monday night football game

Life is a Gilligan’s Island re-run

Until for non-payment the service is stopped

 

For we are all on an island of isolation

Even if the Professor builds us a TV

Of palm leaves, cowrie shells, and Ginger’s pins

While Mary Anne crochets a mask for her navel

 

Maybe a ship will rescue us today

But will it take us back to where we were?

Monday, October 12, 2020

You Can't Unpack a Poem - poem (but don't try to unpack it; it's not socks or underwear)

 

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

You Can’t Unpack a Poem

 

You can’t unpack a poem; it’s not your luggage

Or the metaphorical carry-on of your spirit

Homeland Security doesn’t search your poetry

It isn’t stamped “Passed by Inspector #3”

 

You can’t unpack a poem; it’s not even yours

If you read it, it was given to you

If you wrote it, you sent it to the world

And beyond the world, out into the universe

 

You can never unpack a poem because

Poetry is not luggage - it is life

 

Tiredmetaphors

Sunday, October 11, 2020

Not Even the Paralytic's Bed - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Not Even the Paralytic’s Bed

 

We cannot crawl under our beds and hide

As much as we might want to disappear into

That dark, safe world of dust balls and lost toys

And the chewed-up paper the dog hides there

 

We cannot hide under the covers with Bunny

As in our childhood days; we must instead

Stand up and guard our children against a world

That has lost its capability for love

 

We must neither crawl nor hide nor fail to love:

“Arise, let us be going…”

 

 

(St. Matthew 9:6 and 26:46)

Saturday, October 10, 2020

Teenagers Have Always Worn Masks - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Teenagers Have Always Worn Masks

 

I was already wearing a mask anyway

Perfecting that James Bond pose in the mirror

Then wearing his cool edginess into home room

Where no one noticed

Friday, October 9, 2020

MEOW! - poem

 

MEOW!

 

I don’t know what the American poet Louise Glück said when the Swedish Academy informed her that she won this year’s Nobel Prize for Literature, but I know what she should have said: “Thanks, but no thanks.”

 

-Peter Maas

 

And I know what you mean, Mr. Maas -

I wasn’t nominated either

Thursday, October 8, 2020

Voting - the Liturgy of Self-Empowerment (weekly column)

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

8 October 2020

 

Voting – the Liturgy of Self-Empowerment

 

No one pretends that democracy is perfect or all-wise. Indeed, it has been said that democracy is the worst form of government except all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.``

 

Winston Churchill, Speech in the House of Commons, 11 November 1947

 

On Tuesday morning the 13th of October, or whenever we vote, let us dress appropriately for an important secular ceremony by putting on our Sunday shoes, suit, or slacks and sports coat, shirt, and tie.  One would no more vote in knee pants and a Yosemite Sam tee than one would participate in the Sunday liturgy that way.

 

Voting is the core of our frayed but determined democracy. Yes, yes, I know that someone on the InterGossip yelps that we are a republic, which is also true, but our system of voting is democratic (with-a-small-‘D’), so there we are.

 

Campaigning for candidates has become our national sport, our national hobby, our national pastime, our national focus, our national disease, our national anger, and our national temper-tantrum. Citizens almost never discuss candidates and issues; instead they choose up sides with less thought than they would exercise in choosing a favorite baseball team, wear funny hats proclaiming their cultus, yell at each other, and sometimes endeavor to harm a fellow American for not being a good comrade, a party loyalist, an unquestioning and unthinking obedientiary.

 

And yet, without voting, all of this noise is, as Macbeth says of himself, “…but a walking shadow, a poor player / That struts and frets his hour upon the stage / And then is heard no more. It is a tale / Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, / Signifying nothing.” (V.v.26-30).

 

To vote, to mark the ballot or pull the lever, all alone in the carrel or the booth, is to be an American. Voting is not as dangerous as standing with the lads at Lexington Green or crossing that field of fire at Gettysburg or nursing the wounded on Bataan or jumping off a landing craft and facing an eighty-eight, but voting, freely choosing one’s own government, leading one’s self, not waiting to be led, is what those actions were all about.

 

Not to vote is to regard the brief young lives of those young men and women who died in fear and pain at Lexington and Gettysburg and Bataan and Normandy and everywhere else as having no meaning.

 

The voting booth is where we stand our ground against tyranny.

 

And put your britches on; the majesty of self-government is not a Zoom meeting.

 

-30-

Robinson Crusoe Orders a Generator from Amazon.com

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Robinson Crusoe Orders a Generator from Amazon.com

 

Another hurricane, warning or watch

One forgets which while clearing off the lawns

Of chairs and toys and all the summer dreams

And giving the generator its monthly run

 

In practiced unison we again recite

The liturgies of flashlight batteries

Bottled water, paper plates and plastic sporks

And Meals-Ready-To-Eat, though they really aren’t

 

Another hurricane, warning or watch -

And maybe just an inch or two of Scotch

Wednesday, October 7, 2020

A Soup

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Soup

 

A soup is just a little can of soup

Available in the prison commissary

A little warmth to get you through the night

If there is anything in your account

 

A little jar of powdered instant coffee

Available in the prison commissary

A ceremony of innocence, as Yeats would say

If there is anything in your account

 

And wakefulness at 0200, a hope -

If there is anything in that account

Tuesday, October 6, 2020

Venus, MePhone Photograph 6 October 2020


 

Mars, MePhone Photograph 6 October 2020

 


An Old Man on a Balcony, Gasping for Breath

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

An Old Man on a Balcony, Gasping for Breath

 

Those he commands move only in command,

Nothing in love

 

                   -Macbeth V.ii.19-20

 

The city and the nation seem to ignore him

He stands irresolutely, heaving his shoulders

Twitching his lips, fidgeting with his coat

Behind his embalmers’ makeup seeking breath

 

There are no happy cheering crowds tonight

He waves only to a departing helicopter

And salutes the ghosts of what might have been

Before turning away, inside, to the silence

 

The people talk about him, but not to him

If they did, he would not listen - he is alone

Monday, October 5, 2020

The BeeGees, Duck Dynasty, and Jesus

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

The BeeGees, Duck Dynasty, and Jesus

 

Garage-sale-blocked again, the one-lane road

Hosts cars on both sides, and oxygened-men

Defiantly aluminum-caning the middle

In their Quixotic quest for eternal youth

 

The BeeGees, Duck Dynasty, and Jesus

On collectible plates and VHS tapes

Marilyn and Elvis bourbon decanters

Chinese-made MAGA caps in camouflage

 

“They just don’t make things like they used to do” -

Which is true, indeed, for them, and me, and you

Sunday, October 4, 2020

Supervising Elections in an Underdeveloped Nation

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Supervising Elections in an Underdeveloped Nation

 

It well may be that civilized nations

Will send us soldiers to patrol our rubbled streets

And at each poll post tanks and squads of men

To ensure that our elections are fair

 

Their soldiers will pat our children on their heads

And give them chocolate bars and chewing gum

While practicing their Americanese from little books:

“Where is please coffee shop thank you we are friends”

 

And propping up each mayor and governor here

A sturdy German, Pole, or Czech will stand

                                                                   (and sneer)

 

https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/politics/justice-dept-fbi-planning-for-the-possibility-of-election-day-violence-voting-disruptions/ar-BB19E6tq?li=BBnbfcL

Friday, October 2, 2020

If You Sing a Song and No One Hears It

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

If You Sing a Song and No One Hears It

 

If you sing a song and no one hears it

          The song is heard

If you write a poem and no one reads it

          The poem is read

If you draw a picture and no one sees it

          The picture is seen

If you read a book and no one knows it

          The book is known

If you speak of love, and there is no love –

          Oh, yes, there is

 

When you give something to the universe

It was given to you first

And you have kindly sent it on