Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The Ever-Glorious
Presidential Medal of Freedom
With a Wal-Mart
Gift Card Attached
As a child I played miniature golf, you see
So is there a Medal of Freedom for me?
Tuesday, January 12, 2021
The Ever-Glorious Presidential Medal of Freedom with a Wal-Mart Gift Card Attached - doggerel
Monday, January 11, 2021
"My Temple Stands in Ephesus" - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
“My Temple Stands
in Ephesus”
-Pericles V.i.241
“My temple stands in Ephesus,” the goddess says
I don’t believe in goddesses, of course,
And stern Saint Paul would up cut rough about them
But we could wish them so, temples and gods
We could board a ship with a seeing eye
A ship of wonderful cargoes safely stowed
And let there be “Lords, Knights, Gentlemen,
Sailors, Pirates, Fishermen, and Messengers”
To speed our stories and our very selves
To where a temple stands in Ephesus
Sunday, January 10, 2021
Snow Clouds for children on a January Dawn - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Snow Clouds for Children
on a January Dawn
There could be snow later, and that would be nice
Children can grow up here and never see snow
Today they might go out and play in it
While we old folks tut-tut, “You’ll catch your death…”
But they are asleep, the snow is asleep
Only the rain is awake, drip, drip, drip
Making last summer’s leaves speak one last time
As they crumble into their winter sleep
There could be snow later, and that would be nice
For the children: a happy new year twice
Saturday, January 9, 2021
Antihistamine Dreams - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Antihistamine
Dreams
My night-time sneezing, cold, and ‘flu medicine -
It flew me back to Viet-Nam last night
Not on a battlefield or Ye Olde Veterans’ tour
But with a mixed group younger than any war
From a tour bus I pointed out scenes of my youth
To people who wisely were not interested
Who with their Leicas took pictures of fields
And the languid flow of the Vam Co Tay
And there were no hard feelings anywhere
Until someone shot me from a window
Friday, January 8, 2021
You are the Daily Good - Thank You - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
You are the Daily Good
– Thank You
What good shall I do this day?
-Benjamin Franklin
So much good is being accomplished today:
Women and men going about their daily work
Food pantry volunteers stocking the shelves
Retirees prepping meals for everyone else
So much good is being accomplished today:
Little children study (and clean their plates)
A teen shops for his MeeMaw so she’ll be safe
A neighbor gives comfort to her grieving friend
So much good is being accomplished today:
And you and I are going to be a part of that
Thursday, January 7, 2021
Light, Love, Song, Feast, and Dance - weekly column
Lawrence Hall
Light, Love, Song,
Feast, and Dance
Someone wrote that if you were a mile away from the
Battle of Hastings (October 1066), you not only couldn’t hear any of it but unless
you were in direct line of sight you wouldn’t know it was happening.
Similarly, a current attempt (so far unsuccessful) to overthrow
our freely-elected government also probably could not be heard a mile away, with
the flash-bangs and occasional gunfire subsumed within the noise of traffic and
commerce.
Within a mile of the Capitol are thousands of businesses
and homes connected by busy streets and highways. A man or woman coming off
shift and burrowing within his or her own peaceful thoughts while enjoying a
book or podcast over a light supper might well do so without hearing or even hearing
of the crude grasp for illegitimate power by a physical and moral coward urging
his followers into dubious tumult from the safety of a glowing screen in his
bunker.
And that is because life goes on. In his A Preface to
Paradise Lost, C. S. Lewis writes,
In
the midst of a world of light and love, of song and feast and dance, he [Satan]
could find nothing to think of more interesting than his own prestige.
And it is the joys of light, love, song, feast, and dance
that are important. An omelette and a cup of coffee might be feast enough for
someone who is going on shift or off shift, and a book to discuss with a friend
later is a feast of the intellect, a dance of the Poirot-ish Little Grey Cells,
a celebration of light, while the nimble waiter’s excursions among the booths
and table are a dance indeed.
Any man, even a president, who withdraws into an unnatural
obsession with his feelings and moods, hugging to himself all the satanic
resentments that poison his mind and heart, is leading himself into a
nothingness. He would resent the idea that no one would mourn his passing, but
more than that he would be shocked that he would not be missed at all, no more
than anyone would miss an earache or an abscessed tooth.
Those who live in light, love, song, feast, and dance celebrate
civilization, and want to share the joy, not grasp it selfishly. If the good among
us cannot hear the self-wounding bellowings of those who have broken faith, it is
because they hear the stronger, and more joyful voice of truth.
-30-
Storm Heaven, if You Will - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Storm Heaven, if
You Will
In
the midst of a world of light and love, of song and feast and dance, he could
find nothing to think of more interesting than his own prestige.
-C.S. Lewis, A Preface to Paradise Lost
Storm Heaven with your selfless prayers, if you will
But not your fellow man with fists and flags
Wednesday, January 6, 2021
All the President's Mob - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
All the President’s
Mob
Sedition batters past the capitol police -
As Congress, sweet harmless Merovingians,
Arming from a thesaurus of pomposity
Meet the attempted coup with lofty words
While hidden far away, lurking unseen
Our Leader screams into his telescreen
Moving his dementia along the Potomac:
Glorifying himself in the highest
Our government, cowering on the floor
Maintains that it will not be intimidated
Drive-Through Covid Testing and Bladder Control - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Drive-Through Covid
Testing and Bladder Control
Just waiting in a car-queue, something new
Every hour up a hundred yards or so
Readings on the MePhone, a book or two
And good ol’ Morning Al on the radio
Clutch, go, brake, clutch, inches at a time, wait
News on the up hour, and news on the down
Scan the QR code, number, name, and date
For the nice lady in a mask and gown
Hold your head forward, now strike a pose
Then up my nose the little swabbie-thing goes…
(And that’s all. Boring, eh?)
Tuesday, January 5, 2021
An Asymptomatic Sinner - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
An Asymptomatic Sinner
I burned a television set
today
Which was a rewarding
experience
A bonfire of the vanities
indeed
Burn, you 140 channels,
burn!
I am in quarantine,
‘though symptom-free
And there was an old
television around
And so I burned it. And
I’m glad, ha-ha!
Tomorrow I will rake the
ashes for its guts
While in quarantine,
waiting for my test -
A burning television is a
merry jest!
Monday, January 4, 2021
Behold! - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Behold!
A story requires an
occasional “Behold!”
Merely to see the magic is
not enough
The children do not merely
see Aslan
Nor does Uncle Andrew
merely see the witch
Behold!
A story requires an
occasional “Behold!”
Merely to see the Truth is
not enough
The Magi do not merely see
the Star
Nor do the shepherds
merely see the Child
Behold!
A story requires an
occasional “Behold!”
Or else the magic isn’t
truly told
Behold!
Sunday, January 3, 2021
Seraphim of Sarov and the Bear and the Robbers - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Seraphim of Sarov
And the Bear
And the Robbers
Saint Seraphim was seen
feeding a bear
He would have fed the
robbers too, poor men
With both the little in
his larder bowl
And healing from the
greatness of his soul
With his own axe they beat
him near to death
Before looting his cell of
its rumored riches
They found indeed a
treasure of great wealth:
A peasant’s Ikon of the
Mother of God
For the rest of his life
Seraphim leaned upon his
axe and upon God
Taking our brokenness upon
himself
Saturday, January 2, 2021
Useful Things Aboard a Delivery Truck on New Year's Day - poem
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Useful Things
Aboard a Delivery Truck on New Year’s Day
A new clothes-dryer for our little house
“MADE IN AMERICA” – but is it really?
By hand to the hydraulic lift, and down
And by dolly trolley into the laundry
It made its journey with someone’s new washer
A refrigerator, and a cast-iron cooker
Useful things delivered by working men
Wrestling trucks and freight for the common good
When their day’s work is done I hope that they
Can relax
(around a cooker, with a cold one in hand)
and say, “This was a good day.”
Friday, January 1, 2021
Happy Roman New Year! - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Happy Roman New
Year - Join me for a Cuppa!
“I went, and I am still going.”
-Yevgeny Yevtushenko
“Zima Junction”
The dogs and I are out on our morning patrol
Greeting the new day, new month, and new year
Greeting the sun as he sings through woods
His song of Creation, Creation-fresh
I have fed the animals, lit the fire
Made coffee to enjoy at my old desk
With Edmondson, Wells, and their pal Shakespeare
And John Senior with his awfully thinky words
Fresh coffee, fresh words for me and for you –
Join me, won’t you, for a merry cup of brew!
I have no connection with
the authors or publishers:
Edmondson, Paul and Wells.
All the Sonnets of Shakespeare. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press,
2020
Senior, John. Pale
Horse, Easy Rider. Lawrence, Kansas, Shakespeherian Rag Press, 1992
Thursday, December 31, 2020
Dostoyevsky Writes to the Coronavirus - weekly column
The possibilities were good, but this is poor stuff. I hope someone will take the gag and make it funny:
Lawrence Hall
Dostoyevsky Writes
to the Coronavirus
More than one scribbler has re-written the first lines of
famous novels as humorous takes on the covid-time. I go them one better in
re-writing the first lines of famous Russian novels:
Alexey Fyodorovich Karamazov was the third son of Fyodor
Pavlovich Karamazov, a landowner well known in our district in his own day and
still remember among us due to his tragic death when his stockpile of hoarded
toilet paper fell and crushed him.
-Dostoyevsky, The
Brothers Karamazov
Reveille was sounded, as always, at 5 a.m. – a hammer
pounding on a rail outside Camp Fast-Track Vaccines H. Q.
-Solzhenitsyn, One
Day in the Live of Ivan Denisovich
On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man
came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked slowly, as
though in hesitation, towards K Bridge in search of P. P. E.
- Dostoyevsky, Crime
and Punishment
“Well, Peter, still no sign of the promised disinfectant aerosols?
-Turgenev, Fathers
and Sons
On they went, singing “Rest Eternal,” and whenever they
stopped there was a sign reminding them to maintain a distance of six feet from
each other.
-Pasternak, Doctor
Zhivago
I am merely copying out here, word for word, what was
printed today in the State Gazette: Glass rooms in glass buildings are not
enough – you must also wear your glass masks.
-Zamyatin, We
“Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family
estates of the Microsoft Corporation.”
-Tolstoy, War
and Peace
Happy viruses are all alike; every unhappy virus is
unhappy in its own way.
-Tolstoy, Anna
Karenina
Every day the factory whistle bellowed forth its shrill, roaring,
shuddering noises into the smoke-begrimed and greasy atmosphere of the
workingmen’s suburb where vaccines were developed.
-Gorky, Mother
The Melekhov farm was right at the end of Tatarsk village,
next to Dr. Fauci’s house.
-Sholokov, And
Quiet Flows the Don
-30-
31 December 2020 - Time Out for a Penalty Flag
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
31 December 2020 –
Time Out for a Penalty Flag
The old order changeth, yielding place to new,
And God fulfills himself in many ways
-Tennyson, “The Passing of Arthur”
Change does not lie in
calendars or dates
But in the seasonal
turnings of the year
And in the ordered ways of
God with us
Compassing us truly in
spite of ourselves
Years are but our usages
and measurings
Tools lent us for a time for
learning Creation
For balancing the better
against the good
And the transcendent against
the transient
Life is not lived in
calendars or dates
But beyond all time, and
only in Truth
Wednesday, December 30, 2020
Our Fearless Leaders / Have Got / the Shot - doggerel
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Our Fearless Leaders / Have Got / The Shot
But as for us, well, we
have not
Tuesday, December 29, 2020
First Communion in the Virus-Time - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
First Communion in the Virus-Time
For Veronica
True Ikon of the Lord
A little girl’s mantilla
is a crown
A crown an empress might covet
for herself
Wore she not her own First
Communion mantilla
Forever within the
recesses of her heart
A little girl’s white
cotton dress is a robe
A royal robe of courtly majesty,
Worn in the presence of her
Lord and King
A little girl on First
Communion day
Awes even the angels in
her imperium
Monday, December 28, 2020
Reading is a Suspicious Activity - poem
Reading is a Suspicious Activity:
Blue-Penciled in Solovetsky
“…Soviet writers failed to write
about their personal thoughts.”
-Yevtushenko
Reading
is a suspicious activity
Unless
it’s a technical book of instructions
Or
a hunting magazine with centerfolds
Of
seductive semi-automatics
Writing
is a forbidden activity
Unless
it’s a grocery shopping list
Or
the code to a new computer game
Of
zombie valkyries with swastika tats
They’ve
only gotten as far as statues thrown down
They’ll
destroy the libraries next – and maybe you
Sunday, December 27, 2020
Washing-Machine Archaeology - poem
Lawrence
Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Washing-Machine Archaeology
History
passes, and so do washing machines
Rattling
and spinning to the end of their span
Their
dutiful cleanings cleaned out at last
Whited
sepulchers around silent drums
The
householder as Howard Carter finds
Behind
a dead machine “Yes, wonderful things!”
Clothes
hangers, metastasized dust bunnies
Inexplicable
stains that hiss and spit
And
in a midden, he discovers with a shock -
Almost
embalmed – that famous long-lost sock!
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