Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A Cold Call from
the Hearing-Aid Place
A cold call from the hearing-aid place
I heard the young nice lady perfectly
Saturday, March 6, 2021
A Cold Call from the Hearing-Aid Place - poem
Friday, March 5, 2021
Building a Fence and Smoking Cigarettes - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Building a Fence and Smoking Cigarettes
I passed two men who were
building a fence
Cigarettes on their lips, work-stained
old hats
Spirit level, carpenter square,
calculations
The morning frost hard-worked
into honest sweat
I passed two men who were
building a fence
Its posts and rails strong-muscled
into place
And hammered against the
autumn hurricanes
With nails of steel, extruded
steel, bright steel
I passed two men who were
building a fence
With hands and tools and strength
and uncommon sense
Thursday, March 4, 2021
What Face Mask is Appropriate for an Evening Wedding? - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
What Face Mask is Appropriate for an Evening Wedding?
Color-coordinating your
face mask
Matching it to the tie,
belt, socks, or shoes
Is now a fashion challenge
in taste, a task
Good hygiene in bright reds
or subdued blues
Is this mask for the bride’s
side, or the groom’s
And is the reception a
barbecue
Or dancing through a
mansion’s stately rooms
A truly masked ball with a
harbor view
The only real problem in
fitting a mask –
Does it make my face look
wide? That’s all I ask!
Wednesday, March 3, 2021
Imagining Maurice Chevalier as a Farmer - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A Flaneur in Old Khakis
A rustic dilettante, all
ready to flirt
In his old khakis and a
chambray shirt
Old boots, old gloves, a mattock
or rake to wield
A boulevardier of row
crops in the field
He tips his old straw hat
to the morning sun
Considers the corn silks’
latest fashion for fun
Discusses pitch and tone
with a passing breeze
And notes the colours in
the apple trees
The latest songs and jokes
he very well knows
And shares the latest
gossip with clever crows
This rare sophisticate whose
sidewalk cafes’
Are nature’s dreamy scenes
along nature’s ways
Tuesday, March 2, 2021
I Will Never Take Instruction from a Consonant - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
I Will Never Take Instruction from a Consonant
Whenever I’m down, and feeling
a little blue
I wonder whatever it is I
can do
What traditional learning
I can pursue
To recover the happiness I
once knew
I shun the transient, the
ever-new
The latest fashions the
unlettered construe
For I will follow Wisdom,
just and true
Wherever She leads me, my
whole life through
I will never take instruction
from a consonant
And I know, wise friend,
that neither will you
Monday, March 1, 2021
Citizen Potato Head is a Class Enemy - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Citizen Potato Head is a Class Enemy
“A mister no more:
Mr. Potato Head goes gender neutral”
-Mr. Potato Head receives gender
neutral name, drops title (usatoday.com)
“Mr.” indeed! No, no,
Citizen Potato Head!
Bourgeois titles are
forbidden by law
As are toys lacking in
social realism
Clearly you are no good
Comrade of ours
Lower your eyes in shame,
Citizen Potato Head!
Your periderm, your lenticels,
your pith
Your reactionary apical
buds and lenticles
Your counter-revolutionary
vascular ring
Your heteronormative
attitude -
All condemn you – and
there can be no a-peel!
Sunday, February 28, 2021
is Mr. Potato Head a War Criminal? - weekly column
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Is Mr. Potato Head
a War Criminal?
Possibly because of the quarantine and a popular film (with
the obligatory spunky teen girl beating stuffy males at their own game), chess enjoys
a wave of popularity just now. Chess is one of the oldest games in the world,
and while its moves are simple and a game may begin within minutes of hearing
of chess for the first time, a player’s development in understanding the layered
and spiraling complexities is infinite in its possibilities. This is why both
Young Sheldons and fuzzy-study-istas learn from it. Chess enriches and sharpens
the mind without identification with any one culture, religion, language, or
ideology.
Even as prisoners in a gulag who are deprived of all
resources will scratch scripture verses on cell walls the night before they
meet eternity before a firing squad, they will also draw a grid on a floor or
table and identify random bits of rubbish as kings and queens and other figures
for an intellectual game that with a casual sweep of the hand can be returned
to the debris from whence it came if the okhrannik comes snooping by.
Thus, chess is a game which promotes the intelligence of
the individual while requiring some degree of cooperation. Cults and gangs,
however, don’t tolerate individuals living their own lives and thinking for
themselves. They require not cooperation but obedience. Self-absorbed subcultures
that find menace in a Barbie doll or oppression in Goodnight, Moon (The Secret Message of "Goodnight Moon": Oppression
of Children | Independent Women's Forum (iwf.org)) will disapprove
of chess just as soon as they are told that it exists.
First of all, there are the king and queen. If that’s not
heteronormative oppression, then what is? We continue with the bishop, who
centers on Christianity, and then the knight, who normalizes the secular
hierarchy of male-dominated power. The origin of the rook is debated, but of
course as a castle or tower joins with the knight as a symbol of the nobility
oppressing the proletariat, and, like, stuff. The sides, regardless of color,
are identified as black and white, so to Miz Grundy division is built in.
The queen is the most powerful piece, which is an
argument for feminism, but, hey, white always begins first, so the racism is
obviously there.
Themed chessboards often present the chessmen – eek! –
chesspersons as presidents, generals, soldiers, and other famous characters.
There is even a Gone with the Wind chessboard, and we darned sure know
who the queen is on that one.
Even so, the figure of the king, even if he (eek, again)
is General Patton or Fidel Castro, is still referred to as the king. One can
imagine the ideological schizophrenia when a chess player under Stalin or Hitler
referred to a piece as a king or queen or bishop.
We can’t imagine, however, that chess will escape the suspicious
eye of the censor who takes orders from a consonant. The sort of decayed
mentality that finds sexism in Mr. Potato Head and racism in Dr. Seuss is capable
of grave offenses against the sacredness of the individual and of civilization
itself.
We could ask Mr. Potato Head about that.
-30-
A Cup of Tea in the Hand, a Pointless Neologism on the Lips - doggerel
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A Cup of Tea in the Hand,
A Pointless Neologism on the Lips
“Tea is one of the mainstays of
civilisation”
-George Orwell, “A Nice Cup of Tea,”
1946
In the afternoon (and you
can look this uppa)
I don’t want a
teafluencer; I want a cuppa
Saturday, February 27, 2021
Poets Seldom Order Missile Attacks - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Poets Seldom Order Missile Attacks
“Poets are the unacknowledged
legislators of the world”
–Shelley, “A Defense of Poetry,” 1821
In truth
Poets are the acknowledged
legislators
of nothing
Let us thank God that it is so
Poets can be tiresome in
their own ways
Among other shortcomings
scribbling free verse
Without any consideration
for meter
And failing to understand
the rhythm of iambs
Poets can be tiresome in
their own ways
Hogging for grants and
television time
Some writing more for
politics than for truth
Obsessing on the I instead
of All
Poets can be tiresome in
their own ways
But they seldom order
missile attacks
Poets are the acknowledged
legislators
of nothing
Let us thank God that it is so
Friday, February 26, 2021
Are You a Brand? - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Are You a Brand?
I’m not a brand either; I enjoy
no fame
No lines of this or that
stamped with my name
A doghouse is the only
thing I’ve designed
And the dogs weren’t much
interested in it
The morning sun rises
without my brand
And when wild clouds I
didn’t design roll in
I don’t receive a
percentage as raindrops fall
And own no copyright in
the dreary day
I’m not a brand; the stars
are cool with that
And Father Zosima tells us
that truth is enough
Thursday, February 25, 2021
Welcome to Stoplight, Texas - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Welcome to Stoplight, Texas
Shopping * Fine Dining * Antiques *
Friendly Folks
Annual Ye Olden Days Friendly Frontier
Cowboy Festival
Visit the Friendly World-Famous Parking
Meter Museum
We’re Your Friendly Hometown Family
of New Friends
Closed No Restrooms Restricted
Hours Dining Room
Closed Lobby Closed Road
Closed Drive-Thru Only
Line Forms Here One at a
Time Cash Only
Road Closed No Restrooms
Restricted Hours
Dining Room Closed Lobby
Closed Road Closed Drive-
Thru Only Line Forms Here
One at a Time
Cash Only Closed No
Restrooms Restricted Hours
Dining Room Closed Lobby
Closed Road Closed
Cash Only Closed No
Restrooms Restricted
Hours Dining Room Closed
Lobby Closed, Closed, Closed
Y’ALL COME BACK SOON!
Wednesday, February 24, 2021
Chlorine Smith-L’Francoise d’Bayonne et Valle San Fernando Announces Her New Line of Sustainable and Rechargeable Skin Care Products - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Chlorine Smith-L’Francoise
d’Bayonne et Valle San Fernando
Announces Her New Line
of Sustainable and
Rechargeable Skin Care Products
Along with my line of renewable tees
Hand-stitched in certified green factories
And my ecologically-sound handbags
(If you have to ask, you can’t afford one)
I announce today my sustainable line
(ssssssssssssssssssssustainable)
Of skin care products made from the anal glands
Of the gently harvested influencers
Who panned my twooter site and my last film
(No, I don’t want to hear about the children’s
Bleeding little hands; I pay them enough)
Tuesday, February 23, 2021
Teeth are Curious Constructions - doggerel
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Teeth are Curious Constructions
Molars for grinding
Bicuspids behinding
Incisors for wheat
Canines for meat
And for all your teeth
Above or beneath
Keep them neat
For kisses sweet!
Monday, February 22, 2021
When You are Chosen as Poet Laureate - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
When You are Chosen as Poet Laureate
Do you suppose someday you’ll
see your name
In the content pages of an
Oxford book
An Oxford book of verse
for this or that
Among the greats (who will
want your autograph)
Do you suppose someday you’ll
see your name
Across the top of Amazon.com
The poet of the week, the
month, the year
Or, Heaven knows, the poet
of the century
But if not, write anyway -
you’ll hear your name
Whispered among the pages
of Paradise
Sunday, February 21, 2021
Transacting Genres - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Transacting Genres
A plucky heroine library spy
Paris during the German occupation
Who falls in love with a
mysterious soul
In search of life’s
meaning that winter in Madrid
An empowering iconic
game-changer
Must-read that weaves a trail-blazing
tapestry
As passion explodes across
the pages
In a forbidden path of something
or other
And like reviewers, while
all of Europe is ablaze
She sells shop-soiled
literary cliches
Saturday, February 20, 2021
The Retiring of Old Snow - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The Retiring of Old Snow
Clinging to blue shadows
and shades and trees
Stained ice and sleet and
snow from days ago
Silently steams away as vapour,
as mist
Beneath today’s yellow and
slanting sun
On Monday eve the skies
were low and grey
And Tuesday morn soft
flakes began to float
And then the rattle of
indelicate sleet
Sent every creature to its
appointed burrow
And now the little that’s
left hides from the breeze
Clinging to blue shadows
and shades and trees
Friday, February 19, 2021
Death Takes a Holiday in Cancun - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Death Takes a Holiday
in Cancun
In warm and sunny Cancun today
The senator’s children play on the beach
In frozen and powerless Texas
The children of the poor die in the cold
In frozen and powerless Texas today
The senator’s staff all coven together
To tack together excuses and visuals
The children of the poor die in the cold
Today the senator’s words are loud and bold
And still
The children of the poor die in the cold
Thursday, February 18, 2021
Ice Wednesday - weekly column
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Ice Wednesday
Ash Wednesday presented itself as Ice Wednesday, which
was Lenten in its own way.
The daughter-person evacuated her far-away home for a few
days because the whimsical power supplier in The Big City where she lives is
definitely not Jasper-Newton Electric Co-Operative. Her cliff-dwelling was
cold, with promises of more cold to come. Her childhood home offered a
dependable electrical supplier, a generator, a fireplace, and a nice supply of oak
from Jake and Julie’s American Firewood.
We lost power to our country estate here along Beer Can
Road and County Dump Extension for seven hours not because of institutional
malfeasance or misfeasance or any other sort of feasance, but only because the
ice took down power lines and trees which then took down more power lines.
Losing electricity for a few hours beneath ice, sleet, and
snow is a matter of gratitude because it was for only a few hours, not for a
week. JNEC linemen were out in the icy wind both day and night mending things while
we sat by the fireplace.
Yep, that calls for gratitude, not attitude.
One of the nicer gadgets for helping out during hurricanes
and ice storms is a portable power pack, which is a big, rechargeable battery
or a series of batteries in a sturdy plastic container. There are many kinds
and different prices, and a variety of features. Mine has jumper cables, an air
pump for tires, a 110-volt outlet for very limited use, lighter-sockets for
older accessories, and a little outlet for powering and charging a MePhone or
computer. It usually rides in the back of my car.
The daughter-person has a much lighter power pack which
features battery cables, an air-pump, and several MePhone / computer outlets. It
was nice not having to ration the charge on a MePhone.
We also have a number of cheap battery lanterns all over
the house. They have those efficient new golly-gee-whiz bulbs which do a pretty
good job of lighting an area using little energy but whose piercing little blue
lights make reading difficult.
Last year I bought a new portable generator (which is
OUTSIDE) to replace the old Hurricane Rita one, and it is a marvel – more fuel-efficient
than the old one, more breakers if you try to power too many coffee makers or
refrigerators or microwaves or window air-conditioners at one time (I haven’t
yet), and with (TA-DA!) a push-button start. The generator (OUTSIDE) proved
itself after Hurricane Laura, and again in the ice age we used it in turn on
the refrigerator, the microwave, and the coffee maker.
Anything with an exhaust or which uses flames must be
OUTSIDE.
Because the generator is OUTSIDE I have to run a long,
heavy-duty cord. Plugging together those light-load household extension cords is
dangerous. The heavy-duty cables I have for the generator have little lights in
the ends so that you know for the sake of safety that the cord is “live” and,
as a convenience, you know where the ends are.
While Elsa and Anna were visiting I dug out the little
folding Sterno stove I bought in 1968. I was one of ninety Navy Corpsman being
trained by the Marines in their Field Medical Service School.
Sergeant Schneider called us rude names. If my mother
could have heard the insensitive language he used she would have had something to
say to him about it. So there.
Anyway, we young heroes (That’s what Sergeant Schneider
called us, but he didn’t mean it) had occasion to spend rainy days and rainy
nights in the cold and wind and mud of February along the coast (“Sunny
California,” my apostrophe) and in the hills, and although the Marine cooks did
a good job while chillin’ outside with us (eggs and bacon floating in rainwater
in your mess tin, yum), the little stove was useful when time permitted (it
seldom did) while sheltering out of the wind behind a tent or vehicle to heat
up some soup or instant coffee.
Sergeant Schneider always seemed comfortable in the wild
weather, though – I suppose not even the elements would dare annoy a Marine
Corps sergeant.
The daughter-person took charge of the little stove and
enjoyed the novelty of cooking (OUTSIDE – Sterno must be used OUTSIDE) some
Ramen on the back porch.
Sergeant Schneider would approve.
As of this scribbling the power is on, I have coiled the
power cords and covered the generator (which is OUTSIDE), have stored away the
Sterno stove, and am simply enjoying the warmth.
Thanks again, JNEC; you’re the best.
-30-
Ice Wednesday - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Ice Wednesday 2021
Many crosses of ice but no
ashes
Trees sagging from the icicles
dragging
Little birds desperate for
last summer’s seeds
The ice ground whitening,
whitening, disappearing
The power flickers and
flickers and fails
And the day is one of
lanterns and firewood
Everyone wrapped up in
blankets and thoughts
Reading books in glaring blue
battery-light
The roads are closed, and
we are exiled home
Our Lenten ashes are in
having no ashes
“…last
summer’s seeds” – I grow sunflowers and in the autumn save the seeds in that
famous cool, dry place in paper or cloth, and in addition to commercial chicken
scratch feed them to the birds and squirrels throughout the winter.
Wednesday, February 17, 2021
Darwin Re-Thinks it All - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Ice Storm: Darwin Needs to Re-Think His Errors
The electrics flicker off
then on, all night long
Which wakes me, and my
wake then wakes the dogs
Who protest and blanket-burrow
even deeper
While angry sleet rattles
the window panes
When the weather is foul
and the power fails
We are left with a
flashlight and a book
Staticky noises from the
radio
A bottle of cold coffee,
and our thoughts
When the night is cold and
the wind is strong
One comes to understand
that Darwin was wrong
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
