https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
“I Grew Up in Mayberry”
“I
grew up in Mayberry,” the old man said,
“And
in Dodge City.” He looked into his empty cup.
“I
don’t know where I am now. I just don’t
know.”
Tuesday, October 20, 2020
"I Grew Up in Mayberry" - poem
Monday, October 19, 2020
Lines for Marina Tsvetaeva - poem
Lawrence
Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Lines
for Marina Tsvetaeva
“Her poetry is…passion, pain, metaphor, and music.”
- Yevgeny Yevtushenko
Her words soar over utilitarians
Past pale, pedantic propagandists
who
Would wrench all poetry into a
cause
As if verse were only
propaganda
Her picture on a Penguin
paperback
Embraces the viewer, stares
back, dares back
Her eyes defiant, her arms
folded in hope
Armored in her famous clunky
jewelry
She bleeds onto the page, into
the soul
Her words, suspended in truth
against the age
Sunday, October 18, 2020
The Unfashion of the Romantics - poem
Lawrence
Hall
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
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
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
But They Didn’t
Give Me an “I VOTED” Sticker
-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
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
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
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
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
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 -
Thursday, October 8, 2020
Voting - the Liturgy of Self-Empowerment (weekly column)
Lawrence Hall
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
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
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
An Old Man on a Balcony, Gasping for Breath
Lawrence Hall
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
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
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