Tuesday, December 14, 2021

Would Robin Hood Steal a Post Office Pen to Give to the Poor? - doggerel

 

Would Robin Hood Steal a Post Office Pen to Give to the Poor?

 

“Oh, he’s so handsome, just like his reward posters!”

 

-Sis in Disney’s Robin Hood, 1973

 

I haven’t seen a reward poster in ever so long

Post-office portraits of men grizzled and mean

Each of ‘em wanted for some felonious wrong

(And living a life uncouth and unclean)

 

Maybe one of ‘em stole a post office pen

$500 or a year in prison

For committing that heinous federal sin

(He told the judge he thought it was his’n)

 

I haven’t seen a reward poster in years

(But still I’d leave that pen alone, my dears)

Monday, December 13, 2021

Prince William Sans Culotte - rhyming doggerel

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Prince William Sans Culotte

 

Prince William, Duchess Katherine, and the Children

Pose for a Christmas Snap

 

Is the reason for pants minus

That a pair of trousers itches?

Oh, please, Your Royal Highness -

Put on your britches!

Sunday, December 12, 2021

December Tornadoes - weekly column, 12 December 2021

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

December Tornadoes

 

In this often cynical world we still find people whose greatest joy is to go and help other people without any thought of personal compensation. As soon as the news about the December tornadoes flashed across the news groups of good men and women, often associated with churches, saddled up and rode to the sound of need.

 

They are taking food, water, blankets, and other assistance to the displaced, and bringing their chainsaws, loaders, and other power equipment for clearing debris from roads and property so they can help the locals jump-start the years-long process of rebuilding their homes, businesses, and lives.

 

The rest of us can help by contributing wisely – wisely – to these worthy small organizations.

 

Two unhappy truths require us to be careful about financial aid: (1) some of the large, legendary, famous-name-brand charitable groups are not what they used to be, and (2) any smarmy scoundrel can access the InterGossip, build an attractive, professional-appearing site, and start soliciting dollars that will never buy the first bottle of water or the first blanket for the displaced.

 

The best option always is to contribute through your own church or a small local charity you know well. Indeed, it may well be that your church or club puts together working parties for just such emergencies, and there is where you can give.

 

The need is real. Remember that most of the victims were working the night shift in factories and warehouses, and others were in nursing homes and sometime just at home. They weren’t paying big bucks to take rocket ship rides or for vacations in Biarritz; they were working so their children could have a Christmas. Most of them had little; now many of them have nothing.

 

And, after all, they helped us after the hurricanes. We can do no less.

 

We can all give a little something so that everyone has a hot meal and warm place to sleep, and that the children can have presents under the Christmas tree after all.

 

-30-

Beaten and Shot - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Beaten and Shot

 

To Blessed Stanley Rother, Padre Francisco, Padre Apla’s – a petition

 

Missionaries and martyrs, pray for us

That we may still our anger and intemperance

And listen not to the voices of hate

But rather to the small still voice 1 of love

 

Missionaries and martyrs, pray for us

That we may think before we write in blood

And resolve our differences through God’s peace

With prayer, understanding, and fellowship

 

Missionaries and martyrs, pray for us

That we never state a thesis as death

 

Blessed Stanley Rother – thank you

 

 

1 1 Kings 19:12

Saturday, December 11, 2021

Assorted Broken Saints, Some with Parts Missing - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Assorted Broken Saints, Some with Parts Missing

 

A petition to Saint John Marie-Baptiste Vianney

 

After doing some time in this fallen world

We all are broken, and missing a few of our parts

Having lost some hopes and strengths along the way

But we keep chooglin’ along, making it work

 

And shoveling (life) with us, our parish priest

Just as Chaucer wrote, beginning at dawn

Five of six cylinders from church to church

Ignored by the bishop and unknown to Rome

 

Our daily saint in his well-worn chasuble

His old shoes squeaking to the Altar of God

 

Saint John Vianney, pray for our laborers

Friday, December 10, 2021

Offenders - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Offenders

 

to St. Jude – a petition for prisoners

 

In the system they’re called offenders

No one knows why; the offenses are over

Concrete dorms, three-high bunks, white uniforms

And overhead the sting of fluorescents

 

I’m not going all Pollyanna here

All of them know the poisonous passions of meth

The stench of blood, the sting of fluorescents

In fearing eyes in a gas station at night

 

The stench of cells, the sting of fluorescents

In glaring eyes in the booking area at night

Humiliations, transports, stripped and searched

Form a straight line with hands behind your backs

 

But still, a man’s a man

 

The difference between a man inside the wire

And a man outside the wire

Is often only that one man is inside the wire

And the other man is outside the wire

 

“For all have sinned…”

 

Christmas is coming

 

Will there be a letter from home?

 

St. Jude, help all of us to be better men

 

In spite of ourselves

Thursday, December 9, 2021

You Were in Bethlehem - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

You Were in Bethlehem – Don’t You Remember?

 

Setting up the family Creche

 

When you were a little child you knelt before

The Infant Jesus there in Bethlehem

Among the animals you placed your toys:

Barbie and Buzz, and Woody the Cowboy too

 

Even the Wise Men smiled to hear you sing

To the Holy Family your baby songs

In cold Judaea in the long ago

The Christmas story is true, and you were there

 

And so forever

 

You are a Christmas child and kneel before

The Infant Jesus – here in Bethlehem

Wednesday, December 8, 2021

A Polar Bear's Diet - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Polar Bear’s Diet

 

Do polar bears caution each other about

The dangers of eating human livers?

Tuesday, December 7, 2021

When Your Friends Let You Down, Maybe That's a Good Thing - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

When Your Friends Let You Down – Maybe That’s a Good Thing

 

St. Luke 5:17-26

 

Letting a pal down through a hole in the roof

To free him from paralysis and sins

Sounds much like a Larry, Darryl, and Darryl goof

And maybe it is – we are blessed in our friends

Monday, December 6, 2021

He Never Met a Phor He Didn't like - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

He Never Met a Phor He Didn’t Like

 

He never met a phor he didn’t like

Where the dead are always spinning in their graves

A discarded cup looks like a war zone

And poems are unpacked instead of read

 

Or hyperbole ‘WAY OVER THE TOP!!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG! OMG! OMG! OH!!!!!!!!

MY LIFE HAS BEEN CHANGED FOREVER!!!!!!!!!!

NO ONE HAS EVER SUFFERED AS MUCH AS I!!!!!!!!

 

And freighted his lines with adverbs in rank

Until they really actually literally sank

Banners That Fan Our People Cold - doggerel

 Inferior doggerel, not otherwise posted


Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Banners That Fan Our People Cold

 

Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky

And fan our people cold

 

-Macbeth I.i.49-50

 

Banners for sale, strung on lines in the breeze

Not an American flag among the lot

But only parodies and mockeries -

Betray your country with cash on the spot

 

In the name of freedom a tyrant’s face

Falsely imposed over our red, white, and blue

Children will ask, in their innocent grace:

“Mommy, whatever does F*** mean to you?”

 

These are not our good brave flags of old

But only foulness that fans our people cold


Sunday, December 5, 2021

All Children by Nature Have a Desire to Learn - weekly column, 5 December 2021

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

All Children by Nature Have a Desire to Learn

 

“All men by nature have a desire to know.”

 

-Aristotle, p. 3 of Man in the Universe in the 1943 Classics Club edition

 

We would now say “all men and women,” that is, if the fashionable among us will allow Aristotle a voice at all.

 

Once upon a time I was sitting in the car reading, waiting for the spouse-person who was yakking with some other women after Mass. Suddenly I noticed a little boy standing next to me at the window. He said, “You look like Father Brown.”

 

Well, any little boy who reads G. K. Chesterton has certainly been raised right, and I was pleased to meet him.

 

The little boy is now taller than I am, but for me he will always be that kid was a strong reader even when he was so small he was only about car-window high.

 

His name is not Jacques, nor is his little sister’s name Chantel, but give the unhappy temper of our time I will not reveal their true names, the town in which they live, nor the school they attend. Things have just gotten too weird.

 

Because they live far, far away I see Jacques and Chantel only a few times each year when they come to visit their grandparents, but it is always fun to hear what books they are reading, what new music they have learned, and how their summer jobs are going.

 

This is because their parents have given them love not only in food, clothing, and shelter, but in making their home a library, a music studio, an art museum, and a science laboratory. The farm animals are outside.

 

A few months ago their mom posted from their living room a video clip of Chantal singing a solo and Jacques accompanying her on a (viol? viola?). As the song says, if you’re gonna play in Texas you gotta have a fiddle in the band. Big fiddle. [Alabama - If You're Gonna Play In Texas (You Gotta Have A Fiddle In The Band) Lyrics | AZLyrics.com]

 

Well, okay, they’re rich folks who can afford to send their kids to fancy-schmancy schools, right?

 

Nope. Two working parents and an ordinary public school in Texas.

 

Jacques and Chantel, you see, were never permitted to feel sorry for themselves and submit to the Sauron’s eye that is the InterGossip. They have always had to work, study, and try to get along with their fellow humans.

 

Recently their mom sent a video of Jacques (but not Chantel, who was in a different program) in a Christmas presentation by their high school’s madrigal club. All the young folks were in beautiful costumes along the mediaeval-renaissance continuum (I know nothing about fashion) except for one who seemed to be a pirate, but, hey, good fun! The musical presentations of old – as in olde – Christmas hymns and Christmas carols, along with some contemporary just-plain-fun songs were outstanding: professional in voices, professional in musical talent, and professional in stagecraft, and obviously professional through months of disciplined rehearsals. It can only have been difficult.

 

I don’t know who the music teacher is, but she does a fantastic job in leading her students.

 

On this night, the kids got to have some fun, and they certainly did – such energy!

 

We’ve all been to school musical presentations and often suffered through them. We smile through the sixth-grade band’s pieces when what we really want to do is cover our ears. We applaud the children not because the strange noises they’ve made are objectively good but because the children gave it a go at all and we want to encourage them.

 

Okay, sometimes we want to encourage the brass to practice in the next county, but, hey, childhood.

 

However, the Christmas-themed program staged by Jacques and his fellow high school musicians was objectively good. The applause was not aw-ain’t-they-cute applause but real wow-they-are-great applause.  With discipline, practice, and the handing on of civilization from one generation to the next you get something good.

 

Only some hours later did I wonder if all those good, smart, talented, hard-working young people had been patted down for firearms.

 

All men and women by nature have a desire to know; all children by nature have a desire to know. The question for us is this: what do we give our children to know?

 

-30-

Cranky Catholics - and Whose Fault is That? - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

And Whose Fault is That?

 

Then said Jesus unto the twelve, “Will you also go away?”

 

Then Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go?

You have the words of eternal life.”

 

Catholics are much disapproved of these days

And whose fault is that?

Catholics even disapprove of each other

And whose fault is that?

 

Lawsuits and lockouts and altars abandoned

And whose fault is that?

The ‘net all clogged with angry Catholic sites

And whose fault is that?

 

Well, yeah, mine too

 

We are perfectly free to go away

But we won’t – because He asks us to stay

Saturday, December 4, 2021

All the Little Midnight Lights - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

All the Little Midnight Lights

 

To awaken in the middle of the night

Is to realize that this midnight dream

Is a fairyland of points of light

Arcing and soaring like a magic stream

 

The curious visions before your flickering eyes

Begin to focus as strange, blue-lit scenes

In a half-awake haze you realize

The lights are from all your little machines

 

Manufactured by men, mechanical light

And somehow that just doesn’t seem quite right

Friday, December 3, 2021

The Old Sears Store Remains Unsold - rhyming couplet

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

The Old Sears Store Remains Unsold

 

The big Sears store was a happy place

But now it’s only an empty space

Thursday, December 2, 2021

Children and Machine Gun Dreams - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 Children and Machine Gun Dreams

By word and example…parents lead their children to authentic freedom, actualized in the sincere gift of self, and they cultivate in them respect for others, a sense of justice, cordial openness, dialogue, generous service, solidarity, and all the other values which help people to live life as a gift.

-St. John Paul the Great, Evangelium Vitae

 

Do we sing to our children machine gun dreams

Instead of sugar plums? Little sleepyheads

Now tucked away into their little beds

In matching camouflage blankies and sheets

 

Do children code messages to Santa asking him

For Barbie’s Bunker all accessorized

With guns and knives properly pint-sized

And Super Sniper Skipper and Recon Ken?

 

Do children hide bayonets beneath their coats

And measure the distance to their classmates’ throats?

Wednesday, December 1, 2021

All Power to the People's Soviet of Gadgetry - poem

 

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

All Power to the People’s Soviet of Gadgetry

 

1.

 

The servile arts teach us to plan

Wars for sending our children to die

Barbed wire for penning our fellow man

Computers to sneak and snoop and spy

 

2.

 

The liberal arts teach us to ask

 

                                                  Why?

Tuesday, November 30, 2021

Las Vegas, Geographically Speaking - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Las Vegas, Geographically Speaking

 

Upon watching the 1960 Ocean’s Eleven

 

That oasis of Cool no longer exists

Except as road markers and artifacts

All else is gone: cigarette girls, ashtrays

Rotary telephones, Ford Galaxies

 

The glamour of cocktail dresses and tailored suits

Xanadu with electric lights and Scotch

Heliopolis with showgirls and cards

So Cool that no one ever called it Cool

 

And like those fragments of Ozymandias

All of that Cool is lost among the sands

Monday, November 29, 2021

A Man and His Dog at Sunday Mass - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Man and His Dog at Sunday Mass

 

And in what landscape of disaster
Has your unhappy spirit lost its road?

 

-Thomas Merton, “For my Brother - Missing in Action 1943”

 

His pilgrimage on earth is in his van

His clapped-out van, his one-man caravan

With an air-conditioner duct-taped in back

And his old dog next to him in the seat

 

At Mass he sits in back with his good old dog

His clothes are warm, he gets enough to eat

And, sure, a man and dog who approach their God

Together are good and faithful servants indeed

 

His pilgrimage on earth is in his van

His clapped-out van, his one-man caravan

 

And there is a dog

Sunday, November 28, 2021

We'll Trade You One Stealth Fighter for a Billion Vaccine Jabs - weekly column, 11,28.2021

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

We’ll Trade You One Stealth Fighter for a Billion Vaccine Jabs

 

A number of sources, including the Guardian (A new Covid variant is no surprise when rich countries are hoarding vaccines | Gordon Brown | The Guardian) are blaming the new Covid variants on “rich countries” (that invariably means you and me) for hoarding vaccines.

 

Poor countries, you see, can’t get any vaccines because Canada, the U.S., the U.K., and France are keeping them all, rather like Gollum clutching that ring while chanting, “My precious! My precious!”

 

I suppose I’d better dig up those sealed barrels of vaccines I buried in my back yard and turn them over to Medicins sans Frontieres (who also blame us) with an abject apology.

 

And you, good friends, need to check your closets and cupboards for all those bottles of vaccines you’ve stockpiled next to pallets of toilet paper, bottled water, and the complete collection of Wheel of Fortune: The Lost Episodes. Gather all those vaccines and turn them over to the INTERPOL officers who will land at the nearest intersection in unmarked UN helicopters.

 

You can tell they’re UN helicopters because they’re unmarked.

 

In truth, I aver that I might be the only man in America who admits he doesn’t know doodlysquat about the coronavirus.  I know only this: I have occasion to sit in the same room with nurse practitioners, nurses, physicians, and physicians’ assistants, all of whom attended real medical schools, not The University of Google, not The University of Gossip, and not The University of Some Loudmouth on Television. I listen to what the nurse practitioners, nurses, physicians, and physicians’ assistants who are in the room with me tell me about all sorts of medical topics affecting my brief life on this earth, and I do what they recommend. They know medicine. I know them. I trust them. As Martin Luther (otherwise not one of my favorite people) said, “Here I stand; I can do no other.”

 

The only other medical thing I know is that the full-body scanner that beamed across me last summer in a room that looked like the bridge of the starship Enterprise had all sorts of pretty little lights on it and made soft, susurrant, soporific sounds that almost put me to sleep.

 

Oh, and I can operate a Band-Aid.

 

But that’s it.

 

Given my trust in professionals with whom I can speak face-to-face rather than screen-to-screen, I tend not to believe the metaphorical medical mudslides on the InterGossip. The idea that a gang of Snidely Whiplashes in Washington, Ottawa, London, and Paris are withholding vaccines from poor nations who don’t seem to be so poor that they can’t afford the latest weaponry appears to be just another variant on blaming others for one’s own failings.

 

Pharmaceuticals are developed and manufactured by companies interested in their profits. They want to sell drugs, not lock them away in a variant (so to speak) of Uncle Scrooge’s money vault. The leaders of companies and countries are not always the most ethical, but it is not in their interests, whether in profits or philanthropy, to withhold vaccines from other nations.

 

Beyond that, those nations who focus on accumulating weapons and Swiss bank accounts could probably vaccinate all their peoples against all sorts of diseases by foregoing a single new jet fighter.

 

But then, prudent budgeting should obtain here too: how many luxury aircraft and armored limousines does ONE president need?

 

-30-