Wednesday, June 30, 2021

Warriors and a Warrior-Princess - poem

 

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Warriors and a Warrior-Princess

 

Jason and his Argonauts fitted out a ship

And sought and fought for the Golden Fleece

 

Beowulf and his warriors fitted out a ship

And sought and fought for the glory of the Geats

 

Odysseus and his warriors fitted out a ship

And sought and fought for the glory of Greece

 

Aeneas and his warriors fitted out a ship

And sought and fought for the glory of Rome

 

My daughter and I fitted out some floaties

And conquered the backyard swimming pool

Tuesday, June 29, 2021

The Topic was Forgiveness - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

The Topic was Forgiveness

 

He had forgiven his friend for shooting him

(He did not tell us what the shooting was for)

But his friend begged him for forgiveness, and it was so

Until his friend shot him a second time

 

“I ain’t forgiving the ******* for that

He snarled as he counted his leathery scars

“Once was enough; and Jesus wasn’t there

So don’t tell me I have to forgive him again”

 

He hobbled away with a painful gait

Supported only by his cane and his hate

Monday, June 28, 2021

Refilling the Hummingbird Feeder - a mangled haiku with an impatient honeybee

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Refilling the Hummingbird Feeder

 

Now here is a bee

So anxious for me    

                     to be

Far away from it

Sunday, June 27, 2021

A Poor Attempt at a Kinda-Sorta Tang Quatrain - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

A Poor Attempt at a Kinda-Sorta Tang Quatrain

 

Ink fluttering across cheap notebook pages

A candle guttering across a thousand nights

In exile he finds a school of poets and sages

Far from his home along the swift Mekong



(Li Po laughs, and calls for another cup of wine)

Saturday, June 26, 2021

When in Babylon, Don't Do as the Babylonians Do - doggerel

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

When in Babylon

Don’t Do as the Babylonians Do

 

King Nebuchadnezzar died young, and that’s

From a lifetime of smoking those ziggurats

Friday, June 25, 2021

Lingering Death by Medical Office Telephone Tree - a sort-of-poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

 

Lingering Death by Medical Office Telephone Tree

 

“The marshal’s been shot! Somebody get Doc!”

 

“Hello. You have reached Polysyllabic Medical Associates

Our hours are (mumble, mumble, mumble)

Our fax number is (mumble, mumble, mumble)

We are located up the stairs at Front Street

Next to the Long Branch Therapeutic Outreach Centre

And boutique, Florals by Miss Kitty

All patients and visitors are required to wear masks

If this is a medical emergency

Hang up and telegraph 911 from the depot

If you need a refill, contact your pharmacist

If you are a doctor, dial 1

If you know your party’s extension, dial it now

 

(Beep)

That number is not recognized; please try again

(Beep)

That number is not recognized; please try again

(Beep)

That number is not recognized; please try again

(Beep)

 

If this is for an appointment, dial 4

 

(Beep)

That number is not recognized; please try again

(Beep)

That number is not recognized; please try again

(Beep)

That number is not recognized; please try again

(Beep)

 

If you would like to speak with a nurse, dial 5

 

(Beep)

That number is not recognized; please try again

(Beep)

That number is not recognized; please try again

(Beep)

That number is not recognized; please try again

(Beep)”

 

“Somebody, go get the undertaker.”

 

“Hello. You have reached The Garden of Memories

Formerly known as Boot Hill

Our hours are (mumble, mumble, mumble)…”

Thursday, June 24, 2021

Wednesday, June 23, 2021

Is Love Delivered by UPS? - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

On Watching “Doctor Zhivago” With The Sound Off – W.k. kortas–mediocre means "better than some". (wordpress.com)

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

Mhall46184@aol.com 

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

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

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

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

Mhall46184@aol.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

 

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-