Wednesday, December 23, 2020

Christmas Eve Eve Eve - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Christmas Eve Eve Eve

 

Winter arrives, they say, at 8:31

And how do they know? The light doesn’t change

The soft pale light filtering through the fog

Upon the grey-brown fields who have fallen asleep

 

While we speak of lockdowns and rollbacks and deaths

And plan for the least-attended Christmas Mass

The fields and forests hardly speak at all

Only in their prayerful whispers of the Eternal

 

Time is  told to us by the sun, moon, and stars -

And all the seasons arrive in God’s good time

Tuesday, December 22, 2020

Everyone Writes a Drivelly Poem about the Winter Solstice - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Everyone Writes a Drivelly Poem about the Winter Solstice

 And entitles it

 “Winter Solstice,”

And yet Somehow the World Goes On

 

The sun seems to stand still, and too, the world

An Ouroboros of lockdowns and masks

And the increasing divisions of partisans

In yet another republic devouring itself

 

There is an insubstantial Christmas truce

Undeclared, a catching of breath and will

In hopes that two-faced Janus will close his doors

Against the failings of the coming year

 

The sun seems to stand still, and too, the world

We also wait, and search the skies for a Star

Monday, December 21, 2020

Bifocalism for the Masses and, Like, Stuff - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Bifocalism for the Masses and, Like, Stuff

 

Bifocals – the upper lens sees far away

The sun and the moon and the dancing stars

All in their appointed places above

Great mountains and oceans and thunderstorms

 

Bifocals – the lower lens sees the end of your nose

The sweep hand dancing around your Timex watch

The book you are reading, the book you are writing

Your thoughts encoded in orderly lines

 

Bifocals – both lenses balance your sense of vision -

But take the stairs with care and precision!

Sunday, December 20, 2020

And He Liked Really Cool Cars - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

And He Liked Really Cool Cars

 

For George Ebarb

 

Of happy memory

 

Who served God, his family, prisoners,

And all who were blessed in knowing him

With unfailing love and generosity

 

(And he liked really cool cars!)

 

A convention is to say that when we die

God will not ask us about the cars we drove

But we may hope and pray that in George’s case

A happy exception was made for him

 

 

George was my mentor in prison volunteer service. I didn’t know he was a rich man, for he wore his wealthy lightly, and I didn’t know he gave much of his wealth away, for he was also rich, as Chaucer says of the Parsoun, in “hooly thought and werk.”

Saturday, December 19, 2020

Keep a Sharp Lookout - This Fog Won't Last - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Keep a Sharp Lookout – This Fog Won’t Last

 

My country was made for noble hearts such as yours.

 

-Aslan in Voyage of the Dawn Treader

 

When we can’t turn outward, we turn inward

That might not be such a good thing, you know

We are probably out-of-practice, busied

With meetings and work and coffee-shop dates

 

For now our lives are solitude and screens

Pajama feet and emptiness, and if

We call someone, who is it who answers us?

“Be still, and know that I am Internet?”

 

Oh, no. The night is misty indeed, but the stars -

The stars still shine; be brave, and look for them

Friday, December 18, 2020

Do not Clench unto Others - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Do not Clench unto Others

 

Merciful God in His infinite love

Will never clench His fist at us

Thursday, December 17, 2020

Save Christmas with Your Camera - weekly column

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Save Christmas with Your Camera

 

Your children will never show their childhood Christmas pictures to their own children because the pictures won’t exist.

 

Decades ago Kodak, once a great American corporation, boosted their sales of cameras for Christmas with the slogan, “Open Me First.” The ads featured images of perfect families with perfect teeth grinning for the new Kodak camera that someone opened first.

 

After the Second World War Americans took lots of pictures, especially during the holidays, and the drug-store prints and the film negatives found their way into albums and shoeboxes, often to be rediscovered and reprocessed decades later.

 

Today there are steady but slow sales of film cameras and films, because artists and many professional photographers insist that film provides a depth, a richness that for portraiture and art pieces cannot be matched by digital.

 

But most people do not own film cameras and, less and less, digital cameras. Almost all family photography is accomplished on MePhones, and two flaws obtain: (1) the MePhone microprocessors simply can’t compensate for the lack of glass, that is, a real lens, and (2) the pictures are usually lost within months.

 

MePhones are notorious for their built-in obsolescence, and if by mistake a company makes a MePhone that lasts for a few years, recent lawsuits reveal that some manufactures find ways of making them decay so that you have to buy a new one. When the old is traded in for the new, sometimes the pictures are not saved.

 

Beyond that, MePhones and computers are lost or stolen or simply cease to work, and the pictures you meant to save to an external drive never get there.

 

For your children someday to re-visit all their Christmases and adventures you need a camera, a real camera, not one that is tacked onto Maxwell Smart’s shoe ‘phone.

 

The remaining camera manufacturers – none of them American – make nifty little digital cameras that take superior photographs and feature easily changed memory cards.  You will have far better photographs and can share them by connecting the camera to your computer or sometimes plugging in the memory card.

 

Most importantly, take out the memory card with all the Christmas and New Year’s pix, label it, and store it in your safety deposit box at the bank. Your children’s Christmases and graduations and ball games will be safe there for many years (if you bought a quality card – this is not the time for bargains).

 

And, after all, your children laughed at your childhood pictures, so would you want to deprive your grandchildren the opportunity to laugh at their parents’ childhood pictures? I thought not.

 

For artistic work you can still find film cameras new, but a better deal is to hit the garage sales and find a bargain with which to experiment.

 

And whatever happened to Kodak? Well, they invented the digital camera, decided there was no future in it, fumbled the patents, fell into bankruptcy, and destroyed thousands of jobs and the economy of Rochester, New York. Would you like to be remembered as one of the board-room alligator-shoe boys who let that happen?

 

-30-

A Little Child Lacing Her Shoes - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Little Child Lacing Her Shoes

 

For Sarah, of course

 

She is as proud, as she can be, and I -

I too am proud, watching her twist her tongue

In thought – the rabbit pops into its hole

To emerge on the other side – hello!

 

She is as proud as she can be, but I

Am a little bit sad as she stands up now

Dancing in place to make the heel-lights twink

Then giggling, “Catch me, Daddy!” as she runs away

 

And I play-chase, knowing that all too soon

There won’t be little lights for me to follow

Wednesday, December 16, 2020

Tin Ears in the Hands of an Angry God - rhyming couplet

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Tin Ears in the Hands of an Angry God

 

-as Jonathan Edwards did not yell

 

If You are good and kind and loving, O Lord

Then why do You permit

                                            The harpsichord?

Tuesday, December 15, 2020

Before the Magi Came - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Before the Magi Came

 

-1 Maccabees 4:36-60

 

Yes, long before the holy Magi came

Judah the Maccabee brought forth his gifts

First scourging the Temple clean of false gods

In prayerful preparation for the True

 

And then presented God with oil and bread

A consecrated Altar of undressed stones

Incense and lamps and songs and grateful hearts

And an octave of inextinguishable light

 

Thus, long before the holy Magi came

Even before the Star, Judah brought a flame

Monday, December 14, 2020

Contagious Disease Unit - Ward 20 Deck 2 - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Contagious Disease Unit – Ward 20 Deck 2

 

Maybe my aptitude for throwing up

My ENT infections, fevers and chills

Hopeless motion sickness and fainting fits

Were the reasons why NavPers posted me there

 

All the diseases in the Fleet called it home:

Infections, syphilis, leprosy, the clap

(Let’s give him a hand), and for reasons not clear

A couple of crewmen from the Pueblo

 

Before I was sent to be sick in Indo-China -

And now they say there’s a virus going around

Sunday, December 13, 2020

Waiting for the Messiah Someplace Else - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Waiting for the Messiah Someplace Else

 

MotelRabbiwe've been waiting for the Messiah all our lives. Wouldn't now be a good time for him to come?

 

Rabbi: I guess we'll have to wait someplace else.

 

-Fiddler on the Roof

 

And so we wait, here where we are, the time

Marked off by calends and by candlelight

Four Gospels in a ring of holy fire

Before the Altar, and before the Throne

 

The Magi journey through space and time

Our journey is in waiting for a star

To shine upon us all, and lead us to

The Temple where all waiting finally ends

 

Beside an Altar of repose in a Stable

A cradle of wood from Eden and the Ark

Saturday, December 12, 2020

Marketing Strategies of the Nazgul - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Marketing Strategies of the Nazgul

 

An email arrived from a dear, dear friend

I was so glad to hear from him…until

Unhappy remembrance – he’s dead and still

And my stitches were torn open again

 

Some Nazgul program had encountered his name

And mine, and smashed them together to see

If some foul poison could be sold to me

Through a counterfeit, the cruelest game

 

But in faith my friend lives, as we have read -

It is the Nazgul who are truly dead

Friday, December 11, 2020

The Rural Electric Co-Op's Giant Christmas Tree - as a poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

The Rural Electric Co-Op’s Giant Christmas Tree

 

Christmas trees are a delight to a child

On the farm, situational poverty

In muck and filth, old coat against the cold

Finishing the milking long hours after dark

 

But to the east a Christmas tree, a hope

The electric co-op’s radio mast

Its guy wires strung with multi-colored lights

The North Pole must be something like that

 

Christmas trees are a delight to a child

And even more when the child becomes a man

Thursday, December 10, 2020

The Rural Electric Co-Op's Giant Christmas Tree - weekly column

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

The Rural Electric Co-Op’s Giant Christmas Tree

 

Christmas trees are a delight to a child, and when a man is old and can be a child again, even more delightful.

 

Our family’s farm was about three miles from town. We lived in what would now be called situational poverty, but most folks in the county were worse off. Some kids got bicycles for Christmas, for us it was socks and cap pistols and little tinplate toy trucks, and for many there was almost nothing. The post-war prosperity boom bypassed most of East Texas.

 

A few weeks before Christmas each year Father took us boys into the woods next to our land for the adventure of cutting the Christmas tree. In our informal squirrel hunts in the autumn we had scouted out likely trees, and now returned for the best of them, almost always a pine.  Finding it, cutting it down with the hatchet, and dragging it back to the house through the chill was a great adventure to be savored then and savored now in the remembrance.

 

Father stood the tree in a bucket of wet sand and anchored it with fishing line. He and Mother strung the big Noma™ lights and hung the precious glass ornaments, and then we children were at last given a box of tinsel each and permitted to fling the bright strands any way we wanted. What a mess! I realize now that after we went to bed Mother discreetly arranged the tinsel a little more artistically.

 

Farms in our school readers and in the movies were always bright and cheerful places, with happy cows and happy pigs living peaceful lives of prelapsarian fellowship. In reality a farm, especially in the winter, is brown and grey and mucky and smelly, and after their years of loyal service cows are prodded into a trailer, bellowing in fear, to be driven away to the slaughterhouse. Good ol’ Bessie, whom you raised from a calf, is now lunch.

 

Life on a farm is often grim.

 

Thus, a little pine strung with multi-colored lights and little figures and globes brought out once a year was magic.

 

Another magic Christmas tree was the huge one the local electric co-op built each year by stringing lights on their tall radio mast – tall enough to have red lights all year round lest the town doctor fly his airplane into it.

 

For weeks the far-away tree shone across the dark, frosty fields. A child imagined it to be a magic place, maybe even the North Pole itself.

 

Now the tower is gone, replaced by cell ‘phones and more modern radios, and the co-op decorates only a little tree out in front of the drive-by window. Still, it’s a Christmas tree, and good enough.

 

For Christmas the co-op gives employees, retirees, trustees, and others ham for Christmas. Because I serve on the scholarship committee I get a ham, which is not a Christmas tree but then you can’t eat a Christmas tree.

 

Scholarships for graduating seniors, Christmas hams for some, electricity for all, and a pretty good Christmas tree out front. What a wonderful institution our Rural Electric Co-Op is!

 

-30-

 

 

The Advent of Our Discontent - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

The Advent of Our Discontent

 

-As Shakespeare did not say

 

Everyone accuses everyone else

Of treason; they’d call each other Quislings

If they had any history, but they don’t

Only Hochhuth and Unferth on the air

 

But you and I have wood to split and stack

The garden to level and put to sleep

Cows to get up for the milking at dusk

And in the evening, a cozy fire to watch

 

Oh, listen to the migrating geese, up high!

Unlike us humans, they never learned to lie

Wednesday, December 9, 2020

We Are Afraid for Each Other - Poem

 

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

We Are Afraid for Each Other

 

We do not wear our masks against car keys

Or coffee cups or clocks or coins or books

Nor yet again in fear of paper clips

Or pocketknives or fountain pens or socks

 

We do not wear our masks against the sun

Or moon or stars or air or trees or flowers

Nor yet again in fear of autumn leaves

Or gentle rain or evening mist or dreams

 

We wear our masks because we are afraid

Of being humans, of loving each other

 

NB: This is NOT a plea for unmasking. The fear is of hurting others. Wear your mask. Wearing a mask protects others. Wearing a mask is love. It’s not about you; it’s about protecting MeeMaw.

Tuesday, December 8, 2020

A Midnight Appointment of Shame - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Midnight Appointment of Shame

 

“Where greed is an ape and pride is an ass”

 

-Chesterton, The Ballad of the White Horse

 

You poor man –

 

You are not the first to use Truth as a spade

With which to dig for yourself mouth-honors and wealth

A tyrant piped, and now you dance for him

His toy, his poppet, his puppet, his pet

 

You poor man –

 

Who pottage-messed stout honesty for toys

To descend in a brazen elevator

To an evil that didn’t even have to try

For you were so eager to go to it

 

You poor man –

 

You poor, poor man: the cock will not crow for you -

You have betrayed only your wretched self

 

 

https:///www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/President Donald J. Trump Announces Intent to Appoint the Following Individuals to Key Administration Posts | The White House-120320/

Monday, December 7, 2020

The Man Who Delivered the Movies - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

The Man Who Delivered the Movies

 

The Saturday afternoon matinee

Outside the Palace Theatre in a line

Impatient for the hour, the man, John Wayne

Air-conditioning, popcorn, Coca-Cola, escape

 

Then riding to the rescue of the ranch

The man who delivered the reels of fun

Running up the steps with a big grey case

Of Rio Bravo – he brought us our dreams

 

And did he know, speeding to little towns

That he too was a hero of the Golden West?

Sunday, December 6, 2020

Let There be Barbies - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Let There be Barbies

 

Let the children have their night of fun and laughter.

Let the gifts of Father Christmas delight their play.

 

-Churchill, Christmas Eve radio address, 1941

 

Some young mothers ban Barbies and Santa Claus

And all such trinkets and dolls and mummeries

Sacrificing childhood to fashionable gossip -

In obedience to the Holy Internet

 

A toy Cochise must never ride again

Or little plastic soldiers defend their forts

Or Maid Marian roam with Robin Hood –

Barbie must never be dressed for success

 

Little children must now sit on the floor

On Christmas morn to play with ideologies