Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
A Child Asked me a Reasonable Question about God
A
child -
She
asked of me
One day,
you see
A
question wise
For
one her size
It wasn’t odd:
“I believe in God
But then does He
Believe in me?”
Friday, September 5, 2025
A Child Asked me a Reasonable Question about God - poem
Friday, August 29, 2025
Because They are Young - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Because They are Young
For Those Who Have Lost Children
The good die young, our blessed children, our hope
Fresh to this world they wanted so much to explore
They wanted to explore everything – earth, air
Words, water, sky, ideas, music, art, love
All the joys of being; all Creation is their stupa
And they fly the eternal pradakshina
In fulfillment, enlightenment, and joy
Infinitely far, and yet still close to us
We are less because they have gone ahead
Along the happy pilgrimage of faith
But they are more, and they celebrate us too:
They love us and wait for us along the Way
The good die young, and because they are so good
We must strive to be worthy of them
Thursday, August 28, 2025
Where is Herod's Father? - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Where is Herod’s Father?
…lamentation,
and weeping, and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children,
and
would not be comforted, because they are not.
-Saint Matthew
2:16-18
The Herod of today squats alone in his room
Alone, devoid of parenting or
purpose
Feverishly feeling sorry for
himself
His only friend is his Precious,
his glowing screen
(And where is his father?)
He scribbles screaming screeds and
manifestos
And draws cool pictures of army guns
‘n’ stuff
Mommy lets him do whatever he
wants
Maybe another weapon will calm him
down
(But where is his father?)
He counts the children in the
village school
He draws a floor plan of the
village church
He clutches his he-man tough guy
army gear
He sends his sulkings through the GossipNet
(Oh, where is his father?)
A naked AR fantasy hangs on his
wall
He takes him down, he wants to fondle
him
He feels, he doesn’t think, he
feels, he feels –
Maybe
Moloch wasn’t such a bad guy after all
(Now
where is Herod’s father?)
Wednesday, August 27, 2025
An Hour in Which Nothing Much Happened - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
An Hour in Which Nothing Much Happened
The country talked quiet;
one human voice could drown it out…
Lonesome Dove, p. 26
No real mission; I just wanted a walk
Along the road, with work gloves and loppers in hand
Through the wavery heat on a late-summer day
To clear some windfall blocking much of the lane
Butterflies danced among bright yellow flowers
Mourning doves murmured in the underbrush
Wrens and buntings and sparrows up in the pines
A little snake wriggled for cover and shade
Their beauty and silence – those were their talk
No real mission; I just wanted a walk
Tuesday, August 26, 2025
The Government Religion in Texas - poem (a bit strident, but so is its edict))
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
The Eleventh Commandment Falls Upon Us
From the State Religion in Austin
“Schools not enjoined by ongoing litigation must abide by S.B. 10 and display the Ten Commandments.”
-Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton
25 August 2025
“It denies us the right of worshipping the Almighty according to the dictates of our own conscience, by the support of a national religion…”
-Texas Declaration of Independence
2 March 1836
Our attorney
general elects himself God
And imposes upon
us his government church
To rule us,
perhaps, by a religion squad
Subjecting
us all to seizure and search
For under
his high-tech inquisition
One’s
conscience must obey his moods and rages
This Torquemada
on his punitive mission
He’ll ponder
our punishment – maybe the cages?
Our attorney
general elects himself God
And Texans
famous for freedom submit to his rod
Sunday, August 24, 2025
Ode to a Monitor Lizard - rhyming doggerel
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Ode to a Monitor Lizard
I saw a picture of a monitor lizard
Its skin is scaley and its tongue is scissored
I’d back away from that wrinkly old wizard -
I don’t want to be ground up in its gizzard!
Making Peace with Apple ICloud - poem (of a sort)
"I Pray You, Remember the Porter" a poem about a sort-of retirement
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
“I Pray You, Remember the Porter”
-Macbeth II.ii.20-21
When I was a young husband and father
I served: on the parish council, taught CCD
Chaperoned bake sales, CYO, and youth trips
Eucharistic minister, lector, and greeter
(No one else could hand out a leaflet with such grace, such elegance, such panache!)
But with age, and one by one, I let them go
This morning I asked to be recused at last
From thirty years on the lector duty list
“God’s benison go with you…”
As lector
I lost confidence in sorting out the new ways of doing things
Of being where I’m supposed to be
And moving when I’m supposed to do so
And moving where I’m supposed to do so
Carrying the lectionary without dropping it
Mounting the Altar steps without tripping
Standing in one place for more than a few minutes
Seeing the words clearly (why is the print so small?)
Wreathing the verbs without thripping over my thongue
But I’m still a greeter – I can open the door
‘Tis my appointed skill level, but ‘tis one
As Macduff did not say
No leaflets, though; that stuff’s now on the InterGossip
I smile and open the door, admire babies, help with coats
Show visitors the way to the euphemism
Tell the kids how tall they’ve grown
(You’re a senior!? Why, I remember when…)
And it’s okay.
I am blessed with honor, love, and troops of friends
(as Macbeth could not say)
Honor, love, and troops of friends
All good.
Deo gratias
Saturday, August 23, 2025
When Alliteration and Peter Piper Go Bad - nonsense
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
When Alliteration Goes Bad
Peter
Piper
Picked
a
Peck
of
Pickled
Hamsters
Friday, August 22, 2025
To a True Believer: When I.C.E. Runs Out of Immigrants - quatrain
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
To a True Believer: When I.C.E. Runs out of Immigrants
Many genuine Bolsheviks who were arrested at that time utterly refused to believe that this had happened with (Stalin’s) knowledge, still less on his personal instructions.
-Yevtushenko, A Precocious Autobiography, p. 17
When your steel sleeping shelf is next to mine
Three or four racks high under lock and key
You will cry out again in your petulant whine:
“But I voted for him!
This was not supposed to happen to ME!”
Thursday, August 21, 2025
“I Pray You, Remember the Porter” - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
“I Pray You, Remember
the Porter”
-Macbeth
II.ii.20-21
When I was a young husband and father
I served: on the parish council, taught CCD
Chaperoned bake sales, CYO, and youth trips
Eucharistic minister, lector, and greeter
(No one else could hand out a leaflet with such grace, such elegance, such panache)
But with age, and one by one, I let them go
This morning I asked to be recused at last
From thirty years on the lector duty list
“God’s benison go with you…”
As lector
I lost confidence in sorting out the new ways of doing
things
Of being where I’m supposed to be
And moving when I’m supposed to do so
And moving where I’m supposed to do so
Carrying the lectionary without dropping it
Mounting the Altar steps without tripping
Standing in one place for more than a few minutes
Seeing the words clearly (why is
the print so small?)
Wreathing the verbs without thripping over my thongue
But I’m still a greeter – I can open the door
‘Tis my appointed skill level, but ‘tis one
As Macduff did not say
No leaflets, though; that stuff’s now on the InterGossip
I smile and open the door, admire babies, help with coats
Show visitors the way to the euphemism
Tell the kids how tall they’ve grown
(You’re a senior!? Why, I remember when…)
And it’s okay.
I am blessed with honour, love, and troops of friends
(as Macbeth
could not say)
Honour, love, and troops of friends
All good.
Deo gratias
America Inspires the Free World - couplet
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
America Inspires the Free World
Americans are a people who, when threatened by a tyrant
Watch TV to applaud someone for cooking an omelet
An Exercise in Alliteration Cut Short by the August Heat - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
An Exercise in Alliteration
Cut Short by the August Heat
Even summer seems weary with summer:
Withering weeds wish woefully for winter
High heat hangs heavily upon the heath
While garden groundlings gasp across the grass
Resettlement to the East on Kristi's Personal Prisoner Airline - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
“Resettlement to the East”
Kristi Noem is pushing for ICE to buy and operate a fleet of deportation planes, sources say
Drain the swamp for a better America
On Qatari Boeings detailed in gold
With interiors by Hugo Boss
Saturday, August 16, 2025
Dust Devils on a Sunday Morning in August - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Dust Devils on a Sunday Morning in
August
The Road to Emmaus is asphalt now
Instead of dust devils spinning in the heat
The stench of curious chemicals flow
In shimmerings among the hovering oaks
Above the crisping-brown fields circling vultures
Seem focused on me – do they sense a decaying soul?
My great-grandfather drove a wagon to church
I have air-conditioning, and Chopin on the radio
The Road to Emmaus is asphalt now
But you still might meet a Stranger along the way
A Bronze Plaque Commemorating the Trump-Putin Summit at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
A Bronze Plaque
Commemorating the Trump-Putin Summit
at Joint Base
Elmendorf-Richardson
On this spot on the
15th of August 2025
Nothing happened
The Shroud of Turin is True Again Today! Or Maybe Not! - doggerel having fun with the U. K. DAILY MAIL
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
The Shroud of Turin is True Again
Today! Or Maybe Not!
The ghost of Amelia
Earhart speaks
The U.K.
Daily Mail examined the Shroud of Turin
And found
Amelia Earhart wrapped up inside:
“Hey! This is
my shroud for private buryin’!
So don’t just
stand there, all goofy and bug-eyed!”
“You keep
changing the place where you found my plane
And yesterday
you said the Shroud of Turin is bogus
Today you say
it’s real – you babble in vain
The ghost of
me wishes you would find a focus”
The U.K.
Daily Mail found Amelia Earhart’s plane –
Tomorrow
they’ll be sure to lose it again
Thursday, August 14, 2025
Our Little Universities - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Our Little Universities
From an idea by Nivek
Many books are little universities
Complete with faculties and study halls
Grassy lawns on which to argue ideas
Syllabi written from your heart and mind
Laboratories of the mind for distilling wisdom
A concert hall of happy voices in song
“Pomes All Sizes” spoken from the heart
And maybe a Rain Tree on your walk to class
The Brothers Karamazov as a prayer book
300 Tang Poems with the wisdom of China
The Oxford Book of English Verse, edited by Q
(Not THAT Q!)
Doctor Zhivago in squabbling translations
And some have spoken most eloquently
for Goodnight Moon
And now what university of yours helps sing
the world in tune?
Wednesday, August 13, 2025
Let’s All Meet in Cicely - sonnet
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Let’s All Meet in
Cicely
From an idea flown all the way from Thailand
Let’s all meet in Cicely before the snow
You can find me sitting outside The Brick
At peace as the gentle autumn breezes blow
Having put aside my hiking stick
Fleischmann joins us on that old wooden bench
Chris-in-the-Morning stops by for a beer
Hollings gives Shelly a husbandly pinch
She takes his broom and with it smacks his rear
Maurice and Maggie, Ruth-Anne, Marilyn, and Ed
Drop in with stories of love and life and history
And news brought in by plane and road and sled
To this Brigadoon of happy mystery
Let’s all meet in Cicely before the snow
And share in its peace before we go
Never Begin a Poem with “I” - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Never Begin a Poem with “I”
I suppose I have been commanded to write
These fragile words in attempted iambs
Which few will ever read or ever want to read
But then – you are reading them
Thank you
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