Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Reported
Side Effects Include…
After a dose a sudden nap-attack
A sour afternoon of sour
dreamful sleep
Unhappy sour imaginings among
sour pains
Feverishly sour and dizzily sour
Feverishly up and dizzily up
To watch the feverishly sour
news
Sour Putin parked nuclear
bombers in my head
Is Nancy really threatening to
punch Donald?
Sour!
I’ll verify with Lester Holt
tomorrow
For now I’m clinging to my sour
sorrow
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Casualties
of Being
In the last century
I lost my youth in Viet-Nam
Last week I met a man
Who lost his son last year
Autumn - always autumn
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
My
New Shoes Might Test Positive for Traces of Blood
Brand-name boat shoes glued
together in gloom
Canvas and rubber and toxicity from
Shanghai
Bloody little hands and decaying
lungs:
We are all guilty of slavery
Do the workers dream of
luxurious yachts
Or even a day off for a picnic
at the pond
Bloody little hands and decaying
lungs:
We are all guilty of slavery
Bloody little hands and decaying
lungs:
We are all guilty of slavery
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A
Geriatric Motorcycle Gang Invades the Bluebonnet Café
The Hearing Aids from Hell Roaring
off the Screen
Biker Babushkas High on Geritol
Looking for Trouble and a Clean
Restroom
The Wild One Searching for his lost
Social Security
Hell’s Angels on Aluminum Walkers
The Thundering Electra Glide in
Blue Rinse
Harley Davidson and the COPD
Inhaler Man
Dentures Every Which Way and
Loose
“What are you rebelling
against?”
“What have…wait…it’s coming to
me…what have you…dang, I forgot!”
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Mention
Stalin in Your Poem
“It was discovered that there was not one mention of Stalin
in your poem…”
-Yevtushenko, A Precocious Autobiography, p. 67
A chill October morning of
brilliant air
Leaves turning in their colors
and on their stems
In the healing-cool Cerean
breeze
As the goddess takes her dreamy
walk
This bright October morning of
happiness
It’s time to put the garden
tools away
Summer, in need of healing,
begins to rest
Each moment is an earth-crafted waykreuz
But to approved poets this
morning is nothing
For it makes no mention of
anti-colonialism
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
I
Never Want to Hear a Child Made to Sing Cohen’s “Hallelujah” Ever Again
Our first contestant will sing
“Hallelujah”
After taking ten minutes for
exposition
About what it meant to her
granny
And she knows Granny’s in Heaven
listening
Audience, you are obligated to
cry
Our next
contestant will sing “Hallelujah”
After
taking ten minutes for exposition
About
what it meant to his ol’ pop
And
he knows Pop’s in Heaven listening
Audience,
you are obligated to cry
Our
third contestant will sing “Hallelujah”
After
taking ten minutes for exposition
About
what it meant to her cat Fluffy
And
she knows Fluffy’s in Heaven listening
Audience,
you are obligated to cry
Our fourth contestant will sing
“Hallelujah”
After taking ten minutes for
exposition
About what it meant to his big
brother
And he knows his brother is in
Heaven listening
Audience, you are obligated to
cry
And the winner is…“Hallelujah!”
And in each listener there is a
secret cry:
“Cohen, why are you doing this
to us!”
Lawrence Hall, HSG
A Very Brief Review
of When Books Went to War
When
America entered World War II in 1941, we faced an enemy that had banned and
burned more than 100 million books and caused fearful citizens to hide…many
more.
-Cover note, When Books Went to War, by Molly Guptill
Manning
The “we” is a bit precious; the blurb writer was not in
World War II, nor was the author, nor I, nor you. Still, the point is well
made: tyrants don’t want people thinking for themselves. Books are dangerous to
bullies, whether they are Hitler, Stalin, Ho Chi Minh, Vlad the Bad Putin, Chairman
Xi, or the Ms. Grundy down the street.
Molly Guptill Manning’s excellent When Books Went to War
begins with an overview of what books have been accessible to soldiers, beginning
with the American Civil War, and then examines censorship of all media but especially
books in the Nazi time.
When American entered the war the average education level
among soldiers was the 11th grade, which was the highest in U.S.
military history. With an almost universal literacy rate, books would be important
for morale and for helping promote critical thinking and a sense of culture for
helping democratize learning among all Americans after the war.
The process of making books accessible was complicated, but
by 1943 the Armed Services Editions (ASE) of all sorts of books – fiction,
non-fiction, poetry, and scientific-technical - were being sent to our military
all over the world.
These paperback editions were designed to fit a combat
infantryman’s pockets, and were bound on the narrow edge rather than the wide. Given
that printing presses and paper sourced had to be modified for this format,
this was a challenge, but one successfully met.
Ironically, there were strong attempts to censor the content.
Title V, the Soldiers’ Voting Rights Act, was burdened with a rider that would
have banned any book with even a hint of politics. Although Title V was so botched
that very few soldiers overseas were permitted to vote, the censorship was
scrubbed. As The San Antonio News said, “One would think that the men
who fight the Nation’s battles would be quite able to decide for themselves what
they would like to read” (p. 142).
Miss Manning appends the titles and authors of the thousands
of ASEs. Many of these are action books: westerns (Hopalong Cassidy Serves a
Writ), detective stories (The Postman Always Rings Twice), historical
novels (Death Comes for the Archbishop), and a very few war narratives, along
with essays, science fiction, biographies, drama. There is a little poetry: Robert
Frost, for instance, Carl Sandburg, Whitman, Longfellow, and others, including Robert
Herrick, who would now be found only in a university graduate course. There is
a Russian novel written by a fellow named Kalashnikoff (as spelt) and German Erich
Maria Remarque’s Arch of Triumph.
The ASE’s would in fact represent the holdings of an
especially good library in a mid-sized American city or a very large high
school. That is, of course, before all
the Ms. Grundys thundered in looking for th’ dirty books.
…over
123 million Armed Services Editions were printed. The Victory Book Campaign added
18 million donated books to the total number distributed to American troops.
More books were given to the American armed services than Hitler destroyed (p.
194).
Those free and uncensored books were examples of the many
things this nation gets exactly right. Thanks to Molly Guptill Manning for
reminding us.
-30-
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A Mansie Wearing a Gun in the Supermarket
Wearin’ a big iron on his hip he
swaggers down the aisle
The village idiot over by the
vegetables
When you call him that, tomato,
smile
He ain’t takin’ no lip from any
of you edibles
Wearin’ a big iron on his hip he
faces down
A mob of gluten-free breads carrying
torches and a rope
Looking for back-shootin’ rice,
white or brown
Who want rough justice for a
cantaloupe
Step easy when he’s around,
potato chip
That anal orifice with a big
iron on his hip
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
People
of The Book and of Books
The Thought became Incarnate in
Judaea
And thoughts become incarnate in
the books we read
For thoughts are tabernacles of
our hopes
Tents in the deserts of our
wanderings
Our dreams worked out in careful
lines of ink
Tippy-tap-typed on a computer
screen
Or copied from those tablets in
the Sinai
Then bound by an artist’s hands,
and placed in ours
The Thought became Incarnate in
Judaea
Our thoughts become incarnate in
the books we write
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
An
Airship in the Night
Once upon a time they were ships
of the air
And rarely seen in our rural
skies
But I saw them in the picture
books
In a three-color process, ships
of dreams
And then I went to the Palace
Theatre
Where from the middle seat in
the very front row
I sailed over London in Captain
Hook’s ship
Navigating past Big Ben and
Saint Paul’s
Last night I saw a ship on the
Houston approach
Its navigation lights signaling
to dreamers
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Revenge
is a Dish Best Served…
Revenge is a dish
Best served warm from the oven
With mercy all ‘round
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The
Times They are not A-changing
Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in
-Thoreau
If the times they really are a-changing
Then they were never relevant,
nor can they be
Love is not measured with a fine
Martian watch
Nor do Sinai or Olympus count
the minutes
The dances of the planets need
no batteries
Galaxies do not bother with the
news
The Torah can never be outdated
(Nor can Bob, but that’s for
another not-time)
If the times they really are
a-changing
Then this moment with you can
have no meaning
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
No
Bombers Over Our Lady Help of Christians Catholic School in 1958:
A
Brief Discussion of a Successful Cold War Tactic
from an idea suggested by Kirk Briggs
Some have scoffed about hiding
under our tables
As protection from the Soviets’
nuclear strikes
But scorn not this truth of those
factual fables:
It worked! No bombers! Post that
as one of our “likes!”
Breakfast in Constantinople – LogoSophia Magazine
Another selection from LogoSophia, whose kind and thoughtful editor makes even my poor work look good!
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Ridin’
it Out
You see him on tv: “I’m ridin’
it out”
He sneers, “I been through lotsa
hurricanes
Ain’t never needed to leave, not
gonna now
I’m protectin’ my own; I know
what I’m doin’”
Ridin’ it out
You see the turtles eating the
man’s eyes first
They’re soft and delicious, a
scavenger’s treat
They’ve already eaten his
children’s eyes
Except for the little girl, taken
down by a ‘gator
Ridin’ it out
Lawrence Hall, HSG
A Court Order from
the County Judge?
Some years ago, after one of our many hurricanes, a young
woman complained to a local television reporter that she did not have any food
or water in the house, or any milk for her baby. She concluded, in a burst of
outrage, “They should have been better prepared!”
Whoever the “they” might have been, it hadn’t occurred to
this adult that she bore any responsibility for the health and safety of her
child and herself.
Similarly, after last week’s Hurricane Ian, some few
residents of Florida are complaining that the “they” had not ordered an
evacuation in a timely fashion.
One supposes that a rough equivalent would be residents of
Montana sobbing to PBS that the state government hadn’t warned anyone that
Montana gets lots of snow.
For weeks the weather services watched this storm, quite
accurately predicted its landing in Florida, and warned and warned and warned. Among
the many warnings was the well-known reality that hurricanes can shift
positions and thus pin-pointing a landing before it happens is impossible. We
must always remember the cone of uncertainty.
I’m not going Darwinian here when I say that we adults are responsible
for our own behavior, and with the big-boy / big-girl pants come big-boy /
big-girl responsibilities. Public safety
is a significant part of the duties of government, but it is not the sheriff’s
job to come around each evening and remind me to lock my doors. The governor is
not mandated to remind me to see my excellent nurse practitioner every six
months. The several fire departments should not need to tell me not to burn litter
with this autumn drought desiccating all the grass, weeds, and brush. The
Department of Public Safety should not have to ticket anyone for not safety-seating
the rug-rat.
This past Sunday evening the weather dude on the telescreen
advised the audience of a “disturbance” out in the middle of the Atlantic that might
develop through the levels of danger and which might enter the Gulf of
Mexico in two weeks. As of the publication of this fine newspaper, that’ll be
ten days.
That “might” and our adult experience with rough weather
constitute the warning. Yes, we have been warned. Two Sunday evenings from now
we will probably be sitting in the front yard enjoying the cool autumn air, but
we might – might – be suffering the stings and buffetings of a
hurricane.
We know these things, and so as we go about our daily
endeavors this week we add to our pantries and shelves another case of bottled
water, another few cans of stew or Spam, some more crackers, some condensed
milk and other necessaries for the babies, and so on. We top off the gas tanks
in the cars and add a few jerricans for the generator if we have one. We make
some plans, we mark a map, we ask someone without resources if he or she will
need a lift out, we talk to people, and we’re ready to go when we make that
decision for ourselves.
Remember – no one needs a court order from the county judge
to come in out of the rain.
-30-
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
A
Poetry Tool Kit and a Small Sack of Concrete Verbs
The sorting trays hold syllables
and rhymes
While heavy-duty meter is stowed
below
With a chisel and file for
shaping rough lines
And wire cutters for merciless
editing
Iambs are tightened with the
box-end wrench
The ball-peen hammer is a strong
accent
A few loose screws might constitute
free verse
If they will bother to sort
themselves out
At the end of his shift a worthy
artisan
Picks up the excess adjectives
and adverbs
And burns them
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Something
Slithers Across the Dripping-Damp Walls
It – that vague, nebulous,
amorphous “It” -
Often feels like a prison or a
trap
Or a trap that seems like a
prison wrapped
All around in Milton’s darkness
visible
As walls and bars of adamantine
lies
And gates all frozen to the
floor and the soul
Secured with locks of one’s own careless
decisions
Engraved by others into
immutable laws
It – that vague, nebulous,
amorphous “It” -
To Hell with It
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Lawrence Durrell's Alexandria Quartet. What a ride! Love
affairs, riots, murders, corruption, conspiracies, Copts, Muslims, Christians,
Jews, British colonials, French Colonials, Arabs, Egyptians, revolutionaries, Zionists,
existentialist angst, and family intrigues, written in the late 1950s and set
in Alexandria in the 1930s and during the Second World War. This would make a
great mini-series. There was a movie made in 1969 of the first book, Justine,
and while the casting is good the film is poorly reviewed. I'll look it up on
the Orwellian telescreen.
Lawrence Hall
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
In
a Second-Hand Copy of Durrell’s Clea:
A
School Photograph of a Little Girl
She has obviously been commanded
to smile
And so she projects a dutiful
grin
But she seems to be a happy
child anyway
Proud of her new red shirt with
polka-dots
We send our children to school
to learn to read
To add, subtract, multiply, and
divide into groups
For P.E. class, to line up
nicely for lunch
To pass notes, giggle, and plant
seeds in eggshells
We don’t know how this child’s
image found its way
To an Alexandria that never
really was
