Duncan White’s Cold Warriors: Writers Who Waged the Literary Cold War is an excellent history on levels: English, Soviet, and American literature, history, and individual writers in a scholarly and accessible narrative covering roughly the 70 years of the Communist ascendency. Anyone with an interest, professional or personal, in the times and the personalities will find this a useful and enjoyable read.
Monday, March 29, 2021
The War on Books - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The War on Books
The war on books, codified by Stalin’s functionaries
at the Soviet Writers’ Conference in 1934 and ruthlessly
waged by the secret police for the following fifty years,
was finally coming to an end, and Zhivago’s insurgent
guerrillas were winning.
-Duncan White, Cold Warriors:
Writers Who Waged the Literary Cold war
What books will America
purge this week -
What childhood adventures,
what scholarly works
What entertainments of an
idle hour
Will be forbidden to us in
this Land of the Free?
We pray that nations blessed
with liberty
Will smuggle books to us, stories
and poems
With innocent ideas that give
delight
And in their innocence
threaten tyrants
What books will America
purge this week –
And when did we become
afraid of ideas?
Sunday, March 28, 2021
Palm Sunday Well-Sanitized - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Palm Sunday Well-Sanitized
There is social distancing
in Jerusalem
Mostly among Romans and
Greeks and Jews
Who don’t much like each
other anyway -
How is this day different
from all other days? 1
This year there is no parking-lot
procession
That’s good; the timing of
the hymn in front
Never matches the timing ‘way
in back
And the mail-order palms
are sanitized
What hosannas this season,
you may well ask:
Wave the virus and proclaim,
“Wear your mask!”
1 Cf. The Seder
(This is
only a bit of wry humor; good hygiene is always a matter of caritas in protecting
others as well as one’s self.)
Verse on the Cowling of a Model T Ford - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Verse on the Cowling of a Model T Ford
Flapper-sips forever
No Janes
No
whisk-brooms
Warm
up your dog kennels
And
hop with that fire alarm
“This is the cat’s
particulars, the bee’s knees,”
An owl-flap gushed, “Paper
is so middlebrow
We hopper our lines on a motor
now
It’s all about the new
technologies!
“The old ways now stand
back to let us pass
The carburetor rhythms our
words with air
We write our poems with
life, with speed and flair
The beat of the banger is the
ultimate gas
“We are the apogee of
poetry and art
There is no end; there is
only our start!
“Yippee!”
Saturday, March 27, 2021
Not Quite as Gregor Mendel Observed - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Not Quite as Gregor Mendel Observed
Our cars are layered in pollen
dust
That each old oak by
nature yields
Especially on the poor windshields
Well-fertilized, and as
nature must
By early summer –
Young windshields
scampering across the fields
Friday, March 26, 2021
Does Cambridge Have a Comma Too? - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Does Cambridge Have a Comma Too?
Oh, Oxford Comma, let all
hail to thee
You sorter-out of tidy sequencings
Who suffer not confusion
in categories
And marshal your strong words
in battle lines
Oh, Cambridge, poor
Cambridge, you have not
A comma of your own; your
sequencings
Were lost among the fens in
Hereward’s days -
You might want to go
a-fishing for them
Oh, sure, Cambridge,
You have your arts and
poetry and drama
But only Oxford boasts her
very own comma
Thursday, March 25, 2021
A Lawnmower, Chlorophyll, Birds, and Love - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A Lawnmower, Chlorophyll, Birds, and Love
“A little place in the country, a
dog, a few good books – every Englishman’s dream”
-David Niven as Sir Arthur in 55
Days at Peking
A lawnmower is a rackety
thing
But the garden doesn’t
seem to mind at all
This second mowing of the
season:
“Just a little trim along
the edges”
The bees among the flowers
and their little pool
Bobbin’ robins up early
for their worms
Woodpeckers and finches at
the feeder
And young oak leaves
showing off their new green
Honoring each life as a
sister or brother –
Love is much better than shooting
each other
Wednesday, March 24, 2021
Soft, Skin-Sensitive Vegan Leather - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Soft, Skin-Sensitive Vegan Leather
Is vegan leather
(The grim question must be
asked)
Made from real vegans?
Tuesday, March 23, 2021
The Men of the Bible Class Pose for a Photograph on the Steps of the Methodist Church in 1968 - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The Men of the Bible Class Pose for a Photograph
on the Steps of the Methodist Church in 1968
My grandfather once threatened
some other old man
With his pocketknife just before
the ten o’clock
Maybe it was over a point
of theology
That’s surely as exciting
as Bible class ever got
The Baptist men were the
city council
And most of the school’s
board of trustees too
But the Methodists somehow
had more self-assurance
You can see it in their
bearing and their suits
They seem to be their
fathers in 1898
With railroads and
sawmills – great times ahead
Monday, March 22, 2021
Poetry as a Form of Prayer - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Poetry as a Form of Prayer
(not an original observation, but let
it stand)
Poetry is like prayer
A lifetime of study
and a study of life
You never get it right
The only miracle
is that you get it at all
Sunday, March 21, 2021
"Mate, There's a Mouse in me Billy Tea!" - weekly column
Lawrence Hall, HSG
“Mate, There’s a
Mouse in me Billy Tea!”
Australia is suffering a plague of mice said to be of
“biblical proportions” ('You can't escape the smell': mouse plague grows to
biblical proportions across eastern Australia | Rural Australia | The Guardian).
Presumably the biblical proportions bit refers to the
plague, not to any given mouse.
The ten plagues of Egypt were water being turned to blood,
and then frogs, lice, flies, sick livestock, boils, hail, locusts, darkness,
and then the deaths of the firstborn.
No mention of mice, though.
Apparently a long drought resulting the many deaths of
natural predators has given Australian mice, as in the old adage, lots of play,
and play they have, reproducing like, well, mice and infesting homes, shops, cars,
restaurants, and crops, causing millions of dollars’ worth of damage.
Mice are cute only in Disney cartoons; in reality they,
their urine and feces, and the parasites they host transmit lyme disease, the
plague, the hantavirus, salmonella, meningitis-inducing bacteria, other lethal
diseases, and a catalogue of allergens.
Mice are of the order Rodentia (not unlike motivational
speakers) and must chew. If they don’t chew they die, and if they do chew (and
they must) then you might die. Their biting strength is such that they can chew
through electrical wiring, causing shorts that can burn down your house. They
can chew through residential gas lines, which also can burn down your house.
They chew and infect food in your pantry. They chew through plastic pipes, your
car’s wiring harness, wooden walls, and drywall. They might be living in the
sofa where your children nap and play and read.
When mice chewed into my car’s wiring – the insulation is
tasty to them, and useful for nests – I got myself a few barn cats to patrol
the area. They keep the mice population away and, unfortunately, enjoy the
occasional robin. A pet cat will in the same way provide security inside your
home. If in the autumn you see or smell signs of a mouse infestation, just
leave the pantry and closet doors open for a few days and nights – Tom will do
his job.
Sorry, kids, but Jerry and Tuffy need to die. It’s your life
or theirs. Like brushing your teeth, doing your homework, eating properly, and
receiving an occasional light touch of MeeMaw’s hairbrush, a mouse-free house is
good for you.
-30-
Colonial Rule from Low Earth Orbit - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Colonial Rule from Low Earth Orbit
Telling lies to the young is wrong
-Yevtushenko, “Lies”
Corporations and nations orbit
the earth
Colonial rulers as
satellites and drones
Enneagramming through our
attic beams
Their mad, malevolent multi-wave
streams
Ideas not our own – they
coil and writhe
As sinister blue lights
through days and nights
Device calling silently to
device
In unheard hissings of infogoguery
We rattle our electronic
chains about
And proclaim our freedom
Saturday, March 20, 2021
I was Hangin' with Miss Marple Last Week - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
I was Hangin' with Miss Marple Last Week
“I think, my dear, we
won't talk any more about murder
during tea. Such an unpleasant subject.”
-4:50 from Paddington
I visited Miss Marple this
past week
In her little home in St.
Mary Mead
Fluffy in her appearance
and pink of cheek
Troweling with vehemence another
garden weed
Kindness itself, she asked
me to sit down
On a wooden bench near the
hollyhock
A warm soft evening with
the bees around
And the hourly chime from
the old church clock
Tea and scandal at four, soft-scented
soap –
And in Pentonville, forlorn of any hope
A murderer awaiting the
hangman’s rope
Friday, March 19, 2021
Hey, I Really am a Neanderthal! - poem
Lawrence
Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Hey, I Really am a Neanderthal!
The
spit-into-a-cup DNA folks
Advise
me that 742 strands
Of vintage
Neanderthal DNA
Are
roaming loose in the tunnels of my being
It’s
good to be descended from a fine old family
Maybe
that’s why my ideas drag the ground
As I
lope along following the science
Live
chicken tastes a lot like rattlesnake
Why
don’t you join me for dinner with the neighbors?
Their
brains will go well with hyena blood
Thursday, March 18, 2021
Select All Images with Traffic Lights - doggerel
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Select All Images with Traffic Lights
When the ink on his Gospel
had barely dried
Saint Matthew was
interrupted by angelic sights
And then to him a Voice
from Heaven cried:
“Select all images with
traffic lights!”
Old William Shakespeare
was a poetic bloke
Who wrote his metered
verse within the lines
But his editor demanded, with
a voice that broke:
“Select all images with highway
signs!”
So if, dear reader, you
wish to have your say -
Forget it; you won’t pass
the test anyway
Wednesday, March 17, 2021
Prison - A Song of the Lord in a Foreign Land - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A Song of the Lord in a Foreign Land
“How could we sing a song of the Lord
in a foreign land?
-Psalm 137
By the waters of the
common sinks and stinks
They sat and wept,
remembering their homes
Upon the razor wire they
hung their hopes
(Let my tongue be silent during roll call)
Their captors asked of them
throughout the hours
Straight lines to the chow
hall, well made-up bunks
On time to their classes
and work details
(Let my tongue be silent during roll
call)
The lyrics of their songs were
written by night
The notes and tones well-tuned
to concrete walls
How could they sing songs
of the Lord?
How
not?
(Let my tongue be silent during roll call)
We all are exiles in a
foreign land
(Let our tongues sing praise after roll call)
After
over a year of lockdowns, volunteers were allowed back in Texas prisons on Wednesday,
Saint Patrick’s Day, 17 March 2021. Saint Patrick, too, was a prisoner.
Tuesday, March 16, 2021
Grandpa and the Kid - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Grandpa and the Kid
Grandpa gives his boy a
toy truck
Or better yet a clanking
army tank
Or maybe a plastic shovel
and pail
Or a real Roy Rogers cowboy
hat
And the little boy’s hovering
mother clucks:
“Now what do you say to
Grandpa? Tell me!
Say to Grandpa “Thank
you.” We say “Thank you!”
No, don’t just run away;
say “Thank you!”
[Extended Form for Certain
Feasts and Seasons:
And Grandpa smiles and
lights his favorite pipe
(His daughter rolls her
disapproving eyes)
She sees tonight’s bath in
the sand and grass
But Grandpa sees beyond
this time and place
His boy builds a road, a
fort, a castle, a corral
And Grandpa thanks God for
his little pal
Monday, March 15, 2021
Robin Hood and Jacques Derrida - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Robin Hood and Jacques Derrida
As the first stars came
out above the leaves
Of Merry Sherwood, the
lads in peaceful repose
Put away their
after-supper mending of gear
And idled over their ale
of October brewing
Then Robin Hood spoke to
Allan-a-Dale:
Don’t sing to us of
Neo-Post-Colonial White Supremacist Patriarchal People-of-Color Matriarchal
LGBTQTY Non-Binary Feminist Chomskian Existentialist (existentialist – how
quaint) Hegelian Post-Structuralist Logocentric Sausurian Psychoanalytical
Post-Modern Marxist Jungian New Critical Cognitive Scientific Neo-Anarchic Canon-Repudiationist
Neo-Informalist Catarrhic De-Constructionism.
Sing to us
a story.
Sunday, March 14, 2021
His Name was Mudd - weekly column
Lawrence
Hall, HSG
His Name was Mudd
First, an
important scientific, cultural, and civic note: the first hummingbirds have
returned and more are arriving. After their incredible flight across the Gulf
from Mexico and because of the scarcity of flowers after the ice and snow they
need our help. Feeders up!
And now: once
upon a time there were television reporters who respected the truth and the
viewer. A young reader may shake his or her head in disbelief, but it’s true.
Last week
Roger Mudd, of happy memory, died at 93. The reader can find his biography on
the InterGossip, and the young among us can marvel that once upon a time
reporting the national news was a highly ethical vocation.
Indeed, there
are many reasons why the viewership of evening news on the formerly big three
networks has decayed, including the reality that no thoughtful young man or
woman will waste time on shrill, biased, and ill-mannered poseurs projecting
the emotional fashions and groupthink of their eastern undergraduate days. Participants
in our national conversation want news professionals who will report the news
as best they can without prejudice, ideology, snarks, and incessant
self-reference.
Early
television newsies were old-school, shoe-leather street reporters, some of whom
had also been combat reporters. Their editors wanted the news yesterday, of
course, with an eye on the hovering deadlines, but they also wanted it right,
and so did the reporters themselves. The wrath of the green eyeshade gods would
fall upon a reporter who faked a story or sources, or who let his or her
personal biases skew the narrative.
Among
the best of that generation was the professional, thoughtful, dignified, and
wryly humorous Roger Mudd. For Mr. Mudd the news was about the facts
as could best be determined, and about the reader and viewer, not about
himself.
Possibly
it was his failure in 1979 to coddle a party-anointed candidate with fulsome
praise, and to carry and pet him through the interview with only poofy
questions that cost him his well-earned promotion at Famous Name Brand network.
Instead
of recognizing Mr. Mudd’s excellence the network jumped up to the anchor desk a
Fisher-Price Play Reporter who was obsessed with projecting himself instead of
getting the facts. His antics and errors and biases, poorly anchored, scuttled
the network’s reputation. Trenchcoat-man was also the first to pose all look-at-me
look-at-me look-at-me how-brave-I-am outside in the wind and rain during
hurricanes. This stunt became a fashion
which seems not to have a needed end.
One
never wishes anyone harm, but surely it would do no harm if some of the weather
reporter-poseurs were hurricane-skidded a block or so on their a(postrophe)s
for not having enough sense to come in out of the rain.
Roger
Mudd never patronized us by indulging in low-prole trick-pone stuff for ratings.
He didn’t have to, and he wouldn’t have done so in any event. In his own dignity
he respected ours.
“Eternal rest grant unto him,
O Lord, and make perpetual Light to shine upon him.”
-30-
Socrates on the Courthouse Lawn in Liberty, Texas - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Socrates on the Courthouse Lawn in Liberty, Texas
“Strong
minds discuss ideas, average minds discuss events, weak minds discuss people.”
-attributed
to Socrates, but no one knows
Imagine if you will old
Socrates
On an old wooden bench on
the courthouse lawn
Playing checkers with all
the other old men
On an old picnic table
throughout the day
He lifts his old straw hat
in the leafy shade
With his old bandana he wipes
his old bald head
And sagely asks the old
questions of us
And through his dialectic
dismantles old cant
And that must be why, as
the ages pass
They’ve made for him a
monument here in the grass
(While
passing through Liberty, Texas I saw on the courthouse lawn a marble slab engraved
only with “Socrates”.)
Liberty County Courthouse -
TexasCourtHouses.com
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
