And the Maps and Charts of Your Soul
Maps
help us navigate the land
Charts
help us navigate the sea
All
of them, when drawn out by hand
Are
works of art, as you well see
Monday, November 16, 2020
And the Maps and Charts of Your Soul - poem
Sunday, November 15, 2020
Her Brief Candle - poem
Her Brief Candle
“Do we all holy
rites…”
-Henry V, IV.viii.118
Her candle was too brief
But she was here
And she gave us joy
Conventionalities are no good now:
We are all stricken in the loss of a child
A happy child, in whom we are forever blessed
Today and forever, in happy remembrance
But still, it hurts
She’s not here now
Are we asking too much
That she should be?
No
Because if she were here
She would give meaning to our feeble words
“Eternal rest grant
unto her, O Lord, and make perpetual Light to shine upon her.”
Saturday, November 14, 2020
You Do Not Prune an Apple Tree - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
You Do Not Prune an Apple Tree
You
do not prune an apple tree, oh, no
You
must become one with the apple tree
With
saw and loppers, not unlike a surgeon
An
especially conscientious one
The
intrusions of vines must be excised
And
the cancerous rubbish growths pulled away
Dead
limbs must be diagnosed and sawn down
And
the poor weeping ends tended with love
You
tell the tree to take the winter off
And
call you first thing in the coming spring
Friday, November 13, 2020
Cafe' Renee' - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Café’ Renee’
Listen very carefully; I shall say
this only once.
-Michelle of the Resistance
Café
Renee’ is still open in Nouvion
Close
to the coast, except when it isn’t
In
a petit monde of possibilities
Even
when the outside world is going wrong
Let
us find a table close enough to hear
Lieutenant
Geering and Colonel von Strom
Whispering
conspiracies about paintings and plots
Until
Madame Edith screeches out a song
Renee’
brings us a cognac as always
And
we know the fun is about to begin
Thursday, November 12, 2020
Another Lockdown? - weekly column
Lawrence Hall
Another Lockdown?
Another lockdown?
We haven’t been unlocked from the first one.
Masks are still required – and rightly so – as are social
distancing, sheets of clear plastic in all businesses, health questions before
appointments, those menacing little plastic temperature guns that gatekeepers
aim at our foreheads, hand sanitizer, anti-viral aerosols, ventilation, and the
good hygienic practices our parents and teachers taught us.
I live beneath the approach to Houston Intercontinental,
and I can sit outside in the fresh autumn air in the evenings and remark on the
now rare experience of seeing an airplane made brilliant in the hidden sun as
it descends with its manifests of people hoping to find their hearts’ delight
at their journey’s end.
The multi-named virus is real. The spouse-person and I can
count two friends and some twelve acquaintances who have died from it in our
rural county.
But the denials continue and the masks do not.
The afternoon casualty lists on the local news always end
with words to the effect of, “All but one had pre-existing conditions.”
The slackers.
Some reporters have a gift of making it sounding Darwinian,
as if the dead were somehow at fault.
Some 60,000 young Americans were killed in Viet-Nam (my
frame of reference; I’m old) – no one ever thought to add, “but most of them
had pre-existing conditions.”
There are few communities who haven’t lost some of their
finest young men and women in the numerous undeclared wars so beloved of our governments
for generations. Yet not even the most callous presidents and the mostly
harmless members of Congress have attempted to calm the families of the dead with
assurances (or accusations?) of pre-existing conditions.
If the remains of your child or young friend are returned
home from some Whodumbideawasthisistan, there would be no comfort to the family
in the chaplain saying, “but she had a pre-existing condition.”
But the perhaps 250,000 killed by the CV (or whatever it’s
being called this month) are dismissed almost casually with the sneaky deflection
of, “well, most them had pre-existing conditions.”
Everyone has a pre-existing health condition; there are
no perfect physical specimens.
The reality is that refrigerated trailers aren’t lined up
at hospitals because of pre-existing conditions. People aren’t set out in
crowded corridors or tents on oxygen or ventilators because of broken legs, measles, ‘flu, colds,
migraines, appendicitis, or hurt feelings.
They’re dying of the CV.
So put away the ego and the ideologies.
Go to work and wear your mask.
Wash your hands. Often.
Keep your distance.
Mind your coughing.
Take your temperature.
Slather on the hand sanitizer.
Keep MeeMaw and PawPaw alive.
Keep your children alive.
Keep yourself alive.
Peace.
-30-
The Cliche' is to Say That We Didn't See It Coming - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The Cliché is to Say That We Didn’t See It Coming
A
happy child, cuddling one of her pets -
That’s
the picture they used for her obituary
We
didn’t see it coming
Tuesday, November 10, 2020
for Remembrance Day / Veterans' Day - poem
Something About Life
“Live. Just live.”
-Yuri
in Doctor Zhivago
The plane lifted, and the cheering was wild
And then pretty quickly the pilot said
“We are now clear of Vietnamese
Territorial waters.”
There was joy,
Even wilder cheering for most, and quiet
Joy for a few. For
me, Karamazov
To hand, peace, and infinite gratitude.
“I’m alive,” I said to myself and to God,
“Alive. I will live, after all.” To read, to write,
Simply to live.
Not for revolution,
Whose smoke poisons the air, not for the war,
Not to withdraw into that crippling self-pity
Which is the most evil lotus of all,
But to live. To
read, to write.
But death comes,
Then up the Vam Co Tay, or now in bed,
Or bleeding in a frozen February ditch;
Death comes, scorning our frail, feeble, failing flesh,
But silent then at the edge of the grave,
For all graves will be empty, not in the end,
But in the very beginning of all.
A Catechism of Brokenness - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A Catechism of Brokenness
The celebrant breaks the Body in two
The
Body is broken
The
celebrant is broken
The
communicant is broken
Only
the Word is whole: “This is My Body…”
The
celebrant breaks the Body in two
That
it may be shared
Broken
again
And
shared further along
Only
the Word is whole: “This is My Body…”
The
Celebrant breaks the Body in two
That
in the sequenced brokenness
In
all the little broken Pieces
One-ness
may come
Monday, November 9, 2020
The Geometry of Intersectionality - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The Geometry of Intersectionality
1.
Crossroads
Intersections
aren’t crossroads, you know
Where
you can choose to stop a while and talk
With
a man walking some other way in life
And
learn something over a borrowed cigarette
2.
Intersections
At
intersections you never meet anyone
It’s
all about obedience to lights and signs
And
painted arrows in the road that seem
To
point everywhere except where you want to go
3.
Stop-for-awhile signs
There
are stop signs in life. You have to stop
But
then you go – a stop sign isn’t forever
Sunday, November 8, 2020
What Went Ye into the Casino to See? - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
What Went Ye into the Casino to See?
Shootings at a Las Vegas Casino
-news item
What
went ye into the casino to see -
A
numbered mandala spinning truth on red
A
James Bond manque in a cartoon tee
A
tatted Sylvia Trench wheezing a joint?
What
went ye into the casino to see -
A
clapped-out Toyota cruising the drag
Mysterious
encounters behind the Denny’s
Getting
lucky in the Lucky 7 Motel?
Does
a man learn at last what life really means
Choking
in blood among the slot machines?
Cf. St. Matthew 11:7
Saturday, November 7, 2020
Theology of the Garden Bench - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Theology of the Garden Bench
God’s
good, green earth is holy, and must be reverenced
As
an act of His Creation, a work of His hands
And
of His breath, His singing into being
This
glorious epiphany in which we live
Our
little children live close upon the earth
Laughing
and tumbling through the summer grass
With
kittens and puppies as their happy playmates
Sweet
Eden’s innocence echoed in them all
And
we with our weary, creaky old bones
Repose
like royalty on an old wooden bench
And
give thanks
Friday, November 6, 2020
Daddy, What Were You Doing When the World Changed Forever? - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
What Were You Doing When the World Changed
Forever?
The
world will change today – that is a cinch
Newspaper
drama by the column inch
The
vote count is over; we’ve come to the clinch
And
I, in peace – I built a garden bench
Thursday, November 5, 2020
Guy Fawkes Day - an App Payment for the Guy?
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Guy Fawkes Day - an App Payment for the Guy?
Remember,
remember a good fifth of plonk
Elections,
tantrums, and plot
I
see no reason
This
autumn season
Why
this year should not be forgot!
Wednesday, November 4, 2020
Someone Said There's an Election Going Around - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Someone Said There’s
an Election Going Around
In
much work there shall be abundance: but where there are many words, there is
oftentimes want.
-Proverbs 14:23
This
autumn morning I have a fence to mend
Fence.
As in fence. Concrete footings, wooden planks
The
rotten bits to be cut out and replaced
No
metaphors will be harmed in this repair
Later
I will harvest the last of the sunflowers
Drooping
now in the fullness of life’s end
No
longer following the sun, only the earth
Soon
to be seeds for the winter squirrels and birds
Someone
said there’s an election going around
Fine,
fine, but the grapevines need pruning down
The Whole World is Laughing - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The Whole World is
Laughing
Two vulgar men grappling over nuclear codes
Flinging schoolyard abuse about like poo
We still don’t know who won the election
We only know who lost
Tuesday, November 3, 2020
The Staff Cafeteria at the Lubyanka - poem
Lawrence
Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The Staff Cafeteria at the Lubyanka
Spaghetti
again?
A
busy day in the cellar. Admin
Wants
more cells cleared for Lenin’s birthday bash
They
come along okay until we pass the offices
And
then they know. Some of them cry. It’s rough
Put
it on my tab
It’s
pretty rough upstairs, too, meeting your quota
Of
counter-revolutionaries and recidivists
You
just drag them downstairs and then shoot them
Easy-peasey
for you, but the paperwork…!
Two
cups of tea
Shop-talk
and gossip, who got a promotion
Budgets
and schedules, and comradely devotion
Monday, November 2, 2020
All Intelligence is Artificial - poem
Lawrence
Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
All Intelligence is Artificial
No,
no, we are not banks of blinking lights
And
random teletype-type taps and beeps
Like
Patrick McGoohan’s educational General
Or
George Jetson’s mainframe at Spacely Sprockets
And
we are not new Robby-the-Robots
Nor
one with The Borg, with electric eyes
Scanning
decaying humans for their flaws
Devouring
a pancreas and a battery for lunch
We
are within and through God’s intelligence -
The
artificial part is that we must work it
Sunday, November 1, 2020
"You in the West Have No Idea..." - poem
Lawrence
Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
“You in the West Have No Idea…”
You in the West have no idea what
it’s like to be ruled by peasants.
-Mihai in Robert D. Kaplan’s Balkan
Ghosts, p. 138
Oh,
yes
We
do
Saturday, October 31, 2020
The Ministry of Clockery - Moonbeam Saving Time
Lawrence
Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The Ministry of Clockery
Moonbeam Saving Time
Change for the sake of change –
spare change? Spare change?
There must be a Ministry of
Clockery
With Cratchit-y clerks drawing
clocks at their desks
Supervised by a Scrooge of
Clockery
They scriven at their screens and so
change things
Chanting “Change is good” and “Progress
is change”
“The more things change, all the
more change for us”
And if nothing needs changing, yes
it does
And once in a while at the Coke
machine
One of the Cratchit-y clerks
laughs, “Spare change?”
Friday, October 30, 2020
+Father Raphael Barousse, OSB
This is a poem I wrote for Fr. Raph’s 90th
birthday this spring. Last night - 29 October 2020 - he died truly in the fullness of years, in the
prayerful company of his brothers at the Abbey, and so I re-send this as my
poor valedictory for him on his happiest birthday of all:
Father Raphael Barousse, OSB
Abbey St. Joseph, Covington, Louisiana
Monk, Missionary, Muleskinner,
Writer, Teacher,
Scholar, Raconteur, Uncle Bubby,
Friend
To God, Who Gives Joy to Our Youth
For Reverend Raphael Barousse, OSB
Father Raph - Uncle Bubby - on His Birthday
Introibo ad altare Dei
Ad Deum qui laetificat juvenitutem meam
You look into the mirror and ask yourself
“Who is that old man staring back at me?”
Your friends tell you you’re lookin’ good -
for your age
And your uncooperative body in protest
creaks
But you and all of them are wrong because
You still approach the Altar as a child
As you once were, and are, and will be
forever
For God will have it so, will have you
so -
Enchanted by His magic - a little boy
A little boy in Sunday shoes and shirt
Who hears his Mama whispering to him, “Don’t
squirm!”
As the Mass hums through a summer morning
Until that moment when you encounter Him:
The universe spirals through its sunlit dance
Creation spins around, in, and down
Eternity circles the paten and cup
Miraculum
Eternity circles the paten and cup
Around and out and up, Creation spins
Through its sunlit dance the universe spirals
And only little children understand that
And only little children are invited
And so God gives joy to your forever-youth
And your forever-youth gives joy to God
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