Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
An Indignant Dachshund
When my little dogs stops
and p**ps and p**s
She expects a little
privacy, please!
Thursday, June 24, 2021
An Indignant Dachshund - rhyming couplet
Wednesday, June 23, 2021
Is Love Delivered by UPS? - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Is Love Delivered by UPS?
Wishing You and Yours a Happy and
Holy Prime Day
All the empty boxes won’t
go away
So I’m burning them
outside after the rain
Automatic gunfire from the
next road over
And is there a meaning in
all of this?
We have mail-order cameras
to protect
All the mail-order things that
we don’t need
From the neighbors firing
off rounds at dusk
Maybe at a menacing
metaphor
All wants are now delivered
to a home address -
And is love delivered
by UPS?
Tuesday, June 22, 2021
W. K. Kortas: On Watching DOCTOR ZHIVAGO with the Sound Off
Until today I have never re-posted someone else's work on my modest site. This is brilliant:
W. K. Kortas
JUNE 22, 2021
ON WATCHING “DOCTOR ZHIVAGO” WITH THE SOUND OFF
There is a certain shock, not from the silence itself
But of its revelations, the laying bare
Of the utter superfluence of language
In all which unfolds before us, the testament mute
But imbued with all the power of an orchestra
In full-throated fortissimo
Delivered through the panorama of the vast steppes,
The bounty of their Junes,
The desolation of their Januarys
The visage of the doomed Strelnikov,
The darting glances of the chameleonesque Komarovsky,
His eyes scuttling to and fro like dark cockroaches,
And most of all by the unquiet, not-of-this world gaze
Of Yuri Andreyevich, a stare which tells tales
Of how fleeting this world’s happiness will be,
How final and inescapable its sadness,
And as he stumbles and falls in his mad, final pursuit
Of a grail which is unheeding, unseeing,
Always just a step out of reach,
The dialogue is not a necessity,
For we have a trove of our own words and experience
To attest to the veracity of the scene in question.
(AUTHOR’S NOTE–as I would be justly castigated by my good friend Lawrence Hall if I failed to do so, I made a point of adding the good Yuri’s patronymic .)
Starting Over With a New Fountain Pen - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Starting Over with a New Fountain Pen
“I’m not happy unless I have a pen in
my hand;
It’s really that simple.”
-Anthony Horowitz
Now you are home from the
stationery shop
And seated at your writing
desk, alone
Alone with your thoughts
in the soft lamplight
You carefully open the
little box
A pen
Perfectly fitted to your
artist’s hand
Somehow like a sword or a rosary
Or a wand of power
awaiting your command -
For it is a magic pen that
has never failed
A pen
It is your pen. It is
sacred. Name it.
Pray over it. Then dare to
write the truth.
Monday, June 21, 2021
Coffee and Cookies after Mass - poem
Coffee and Cookies after Mass
Only there is no coffee after
Mass
No cookies or Kool-Aid for
the kidlets
The parish hall has been
locked up for months
And you know, there’s just
something wrong with that
There is no one to remind
the children
Only two cookies each,
because there are no children
No old people enthroned in
folding chairs
To fuss as ever about about
children these days
Dear child, my heart and
my life, I don’t think
The bishop wants you to
have a cookie after Mass
But
I do
The Theory and Practice of Summer - weekly column
Lawrence Hall, HSG
The Theory and
Practice of Summer
Sumer
is icumen in
Lhude sing cuccu
Groweþ sed
and bloweþ med
and springþ þe wde nu
Sing cuccu
-13th century English round / rota
A curious fact about Midsummer is that it does not fall
in the middle of our calendar summer.
However, Midsummer does fall in the middle of true
summer, around the time of the solstice and of St. John’s Day. In the context of
trees and grasses and flowers and agriculture, summer began months ago and is
now at its peak, now declining with the sun towards Michaelmas and autumn.
Schoolchildren, in their innocent wisdom, know exactly
when their summer begins – the first Monday after school lets out. They sing gleefully, “No more classes, no
more books, no more teachers’ dirty looks!” and that’s as good a marker of
summer as “Sumer is Icumen In.”
Summer is often better in theory than in practice,
though. Around Midsummer the sun is at its apogee and the East Texas heat lies
heavily upon the earth, growing hotter and more oppressive daily with its wicked
accomplices mosquitoes and humidity.
I have known folks to say, “When I was young we didn’t
have air-conditioning and so we didn’t miss it.”
Harrumph. Stuff and nonsense. Twaddle. Blather.
When I was young we didn’t have air-conditioning and,
yeah, we missed the air-conditioning we never had with temps at 80 by eight and
90 by nine and humidity to match, month after weary month. A fan certainly
helped, but in the mornings we woke up damp and hot and wheezy with allergens.
Getting the cows up for the morning milking meant slogging through the dewy
fields in thick, motionless air, dripping with sweat. Getting the cows up for
the evening milking meant slogging through dusty fields beneath the glaring sun
and if the air moved at all it was like a hot, foul breath from one of
Spenser’s dragons in The Faerie Queene.
Between milkings there were seasonal farm chores, but
there were also afternoon hours for fishing in the snaky pond or maybe just
lazing under the oak trees with a library book, hoping for one of Thornton W.
Burgess’ Merry Little Breezes to come by and play.
But for six months, at work, at play, at supper, or
trying to sleep, the world was hot. Still is, only now we’re told it’s a new
thing called global warming.
In cooler countries the observance of Midsummer still
features bonfires and merriment well into the night, which would be fun. How
easy to write that we should maintain such observances because they are
connected with the natural rotation of the seasons, but as for me, well, it’s
just too darned hot and mosquito-y out there.
They can have my air-conditioning when they pry it from
my hot dead hands, or whenever the White House, the Houses of Congress, and the
Supreme Court have their air-conditioning torn out and replaced with those cardboard
fans with religious scenes that funeral homes used to give away.
-30-
Sumer Is Icumen In - Exeter University Madrigals A Cappella
- YouTube
Sunday, June 20, 2021
Midsummer Mysteries
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Midsummer
Mysteries
One of the merry mysteries of midsummer
Is that midsummer isn’t midsummer at all
Maybe it was, back in the shadows of time
When Tolkien’s fairies blessed a happier world
We still light bonfires on Midsummer Eve
Making our summer vigil with good Saint John
While children dance among their fairy rings
Making this sad world better with their happy dreams
And finally
When the fading ashes greet the dawn
We carry our blessings to their little beds
Friday, June 18, 2021
Six Months of Heat and Yellow Slanting Light - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Six Months of Heat
and Slanting Yellow Light
Six months of heat and slanting yellow light
And heat and damp and slanting yellow light
And heat and rot and slanting yellow light
And heat and pain and slanting yellow light
And heat and pain and burning yellow light
And heat and pain and sour yellow light
Summer
No One is Your Vibrant Stereotype - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
No One is Your Vibrant Stereotype
One’s words and one’s
friends are not tuning forks
They do not vibrate, and are
thus not vibrant
Nor are they folksy, colorful,
or quaint
Curiosities for you to collect
Poetic verse is free of
DNA
An iamb suffers no
identity
It boldly speaks its rhythm
clear and strong
And metric feet march to their own chosen beat
But
If you feel that
any culture should vibrate
Then go sit on yourself
and just…rotate
Thursday, June 17, 2021
Situational Poverty - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Situational Poverty
V: We was poor but we
didn’t know it
R: Oh,
yes, we did
Wednesday, June 16, 2021
One of the Pizza Cantos - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
One of the Pizza Cantos
“Obey Me and Be Free!”
-Free for All, episode 2 of The
Prisoner
Cue the queue for Q, Ezras
by the pound
A crown of horns in pantos
by the fright
Mutually assured
denunciations
Keyboarding demon vaccines
with a little blue light
There’s cycle paths behind
the juke machine
It’s Deep Steak stuff,
yeah, it ain’t on the news
And them albino monks hid all
our votes
Let’s blame the teachers, reporters,
and Jews
Now take your selfie for
the F.B.I.
And when those Commies catch
you, don’t you cry
Tuesday, June 15, 2021
A Dog, a Pocketknife, a Twenty-Two - a poem for fathers and sons
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A Dog, a Pocketknife, a Twenty-Two
For Jared Allen Brandon, of Happy
Memory
And Jared Walker Bess
A dog, a pocketknife, a
twenty-two
The rightful possessions
of every Texas lad
For working out the values
he must live up to
The virtues that he
learned from his solid ol’ Dad
A dog, a pocketknife, a
twenty-two
Self-discipline, honest
friends, a manly stride
A quiet voice that’s sturdy,
firm, and true
A man of accomplishment
and quiet pride
For you remember your own boyhood,
yes, you do -
A dog, a pocketknife, a
twenty-two
Monday, June 14, 2021
Four Out of Nine Muses Recommend Poetry - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Four Out of Nine Muses Recommend Poetry
Four out of nine Muses recommend
poetry
More doctors recommended
Camel cigarettes
But we are not speaking of
burning poetry
Except by tyrants, who are
frightened of words
Kalliope, Cleo, Erato, and
Euterpe
Have split the poetry racket
among themselves
The other Muses have
business of their own
Worthy enough in their own
arts, we’re sure
But oh, our four Muses,
our Muses four -
We sing for you along your
Ionian shore
Sunday, June 13, 2021
On the Unlocking of Words - as a newspaper column
Lawrence Hall, HSG
On the Unlocking of
Words
Their leader answered him, Beowulf unlocking
Words from deep in his breast: "We are
Geats…”
-Beowulf to the Danish Coast Watcher
One does not imagine President Roosevelt, on the 8th
of December in 1941, skipping his appearance before Congress and, wearing knee
pants, a slogan tee, and some tats and piercings while blocking Pennsylvania
Avenue and chanting, “Hey, hey! Ho, ho! Hirohito has got to go!”
In his four-minute speech to Congress, President Roosevelt
eloquently stated the facts of Japan’s simultaneous aggressions against American
and British territories throughout the far east, and then simply asked Congress
for a declaration of war. He did not talk about himself or his mood or his
feelings; he addressed the topic. More than that, he addressed the topic with
words that, because of their simplicity, were powerful.
The art of oratory is little studied now, and so speeches
are seldom about stating the facts and coming to a conclusion, but rather a
matter of posturing and yelling and chanting.
The ultimate failure to persuade is in the use of a
bullhorn. When a speaker at a rally or protest lifts up a bullhorn instead of
his heart, he has demonstrated that he has nothing to say that will appeal to the
intelligence of his hearers, and is now going to make loud noises as camouflage
for his inadequacies.
Good speakers study the great ones, and learn from them: primary
and secondary epics, Shakespeare’s speeches, especially in Julius Caesar,
Macbeth, and Henry V, Macaulay’s Lays of Ancient Rome,
Prime Minister Churchill, President Roosevelt, President Kennedy, Reverend
King, and President Reagan.
In Beowulf, for example, our hero is confronted by a Danish
coast watcher who says, in the strong cadence of the four-beat Old English
line:
“…You! Tell me your name,
And your father's; no spies go
further onto
Danish Soil than you've come
already. Strangers,
From wherever it was you sailed,
tell it,
And tell it quickly, the quicker
the better,
I say, for us all. Speak,
say
Exactly who you are, and from
where, and why.”
Beowulf responds:
Their leader answered him,
Beowulf unlocking
Words from deep in his
breast:
"We are Geats…
…And we have come seeking
Your prince, Healfdane's son,
protector
Of this people, only in
friendship: instruct us,
Watchman, help us with your
words! Our errand
Is a great one, our business
with the glorious king
Of the Danes no secret…”
After more of this polite but firm back-and-forth, the coast
watcher says,
"A soldier should know the
difference between words
And deeds, and keep that
knowledge clear
In his brain. I believe your
words, I trust in
Your friendship. Go forward,
weapons and armor
And all, on into Denmark. I'll
guide you…”
(Beowulf- Burton Raffel - Google Docs)
We hear little such good, plain, meaningful language these
days, either in our streets or in those famous halls of power or in the
unfortunate presentations that constitute popular culture just now. Instead we the
people are often subjected to shouting, screaming, chanting, and unfocused
babbling that seems to echo from, in Milton’s poetic re-naming of (Newark, New
Jersey), Pandaemonium.
The good use of language is important. We need to hear each
other, not yelp at each other. And keep it short. There are many variants of
this old wheeze: An effective speaker must be focused, be clear, be respectful,
and be seated.
Let us, like Beowulf, unlock from our hearts good words as a
form of respect for each other.
-30-
On the Unlocking of Words - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
On the Unlocking of Words
Their leader answered him, Beowulf unlocking
Words from deep in his breast: "We are
Geats…”
-Beowulf to the Danish Coast Watcher
In bold and sturdy
four-beat lines
Beowulf keeps his
knowledge clear
With kennings well-crafted
and careful caesurae
And never needing to raise
his voice
But thus the Grendel-voice
responds:
“Woo woo that’s
just my person opinion that’s what I’m talking about follow your passion learn
to code no offense, but wtf oh my God oh my God woo woo hey hey ho ho
something-something has got to go woo woo only dead fish go with the flow tear
it down shut it down burn it down woo woo lock her up there is no I in team woo
woo not my president it’s not rocket science it is what it is woo woo say it
loud say it clear this is what something looks like woo woo is there an app for
that woo woo that’s what I’m saying woo woo…”
But you - be brave
like Beowulf, and boldly dare
To unlock your words with
creativity and care
Saturday, June 12, 2021
Little Corpses Everywhere - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Little Corpses Everywhere
Woman kept child’s
corpse in a plastic storage tote
-CNN
Little corpses decaying in
storage totes
Little corpses by the
hundreds in unmarked graves
Little corpses by the abortuary
thousands
In bags neatly labeled
“Medical Waste”
Little corpses with shrivelled
meth-tainted lungs
Little corpses dropped
discreetly in the creek
Little corpses all chopped
and dropped and flushed
So that graduation night
won’t be ruined
Little corpses in
factories, mere skin and bones
Their agonies haunting our
new smart phones
Friday, June 11, 2021
Left in a Package Locker - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Left in a Package Locker
“Left in a package locker”
– that probably means
That someone left it at
the post office in town
Because the private
deliveries sometimes say
They can’t find our house,
except when they do
It worked out well enough
for Paddington Bear
But our depot was torn
down years ago
And freight trains thunder
by without a stop
Without regard for
packages or bears
And so
We’ll drive to town next
week to see if there
Is waiting for us,
properly tagged, a little bear
Thursday, June 10, 2021
A Faraday Cage of the Mind - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A Faraday Cage of the Mind
The dwarfs are for the dwarfs
-C. S. Lewis, The Last Battle
They wire themselves into
a Faraday cage
As they make ossification
great again
Raising their hands not in
salutes but in fists
Their voices not in hymns
but in foul hate
They wire themselves into
a Faraday cage
Hug to themselves a past
that never was
And circulate deception
among themselves
In closed incestuous loops
of rumors and chants
They wire themselves into
a Faraday cage
So that a genuine thought
will never penetrate
Wednesday, June 9, 2021
When Astrid Commands, Her Servant Obeys - rhyming DOGgerel
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
When Astrid Commands, Her Servant Obeys
When a six-pound dachshund
wants your attention
She
will have it (it goes without mention)
Tuesday, June 8, 2021
A Codicil to Sonnet 116 - poem
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A Codicil to Sonnet 116
When shy young lovers flirt
with each other
Make eyes across a
parent-haunted room
Hold hands in the
magnolia-scented night
And kiss for the first…oh,
that very first kiss!
Do they anticipate petitionings
Investigations and bitter whisperings
Restraining orders,
arrearages, fail nots
Decrees more absolute than
youthful vows?
As old Shakespeare was
never wont to say
Love is not love when
arbitration binds
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