Tuesday, April 28, 2026

Poems Three Times Each Day - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

Poems Three Times Each Day

 

For the singers of songs and tellers of truth on HP

 

From ideas by Jackie and Nat

 

Most creatives frame each day with a liturgy

The Hours for some, Shacharit, Mincha, and Maariv for others

The musician gives glory through pulsing air

An artist with camel-hair brush blesses a canvas

 

A poem is a prayer, a Temple-offering of love

A Sh’ma, an Ave, the Eight-Fold Path

A chaplet of beads bidding welcome to all

A voice proclaiming Truth in the desert

 

Most creatives frame each day with a liturgy -

Thank you, dear friends, for sharing yours with me

Monday, April 27, 2026

How Old Are You? - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

How Old Are You?

 

A question:

 

If you did not know how old you are

How old, then, would you say you are?

 

An answer:

 

I will go in to the altar of God.

To God who giveth joy to my youth.

 

And there you are

 

“How old…” – many attributions

“To God…” -Missale Romanum, Baronius Press, 2008

Sunday, April 26, 2026

For Those Who Long for the President’s Firing Squads - poem

  

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

 

For Those Who Long for the President’s Firing Squads

 

 

We still have judgement here, that we but teach
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return
To plague th’ inventor. 

 

-Macbeth I.vii.8-10

 

 

Although you may jeer a condemned man today

And laugh as he’s dragged to that berm and wall

The evil that breaks his body will turn your way

You too will hear the Fatal Bellman’s call

 

The verdict sustained, the appeals laughed off

Poorly trained riflemen will unlock your door

As they drag you away they will scorn and scoff

If they notice you at all – ‘tis their daily chore

 

You’ll scream into the void your vain last plea:

“I didn’t mean for this to happen to ME!”

Breaking News - Shots Not Fired - short poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

Breaking News: Shots Not Fired

 

How lovely it would be to hear someone say

“A few minutes ago in Washington

Several incidents of love rang out.”

Saturday, April 18, 2026

Sunday Morning Jesus with a Bullhorn, Lawrence Hall

 Lawrence Hall

mhall46184@aol.com


Sunday Morning Jesus with a Bullhorn

 

 

“Ye miserable, crawlin’ worms. Are ye here again then?...You’re all damned! DAMNED!”

 

                           -from Amos Starkadder’s There’ll Be No Butter in Hell sermon to the Church of the

                                                            Quivering Brethren, Cold Comfort Farm

 

 

(Sinner, are you saved?!)

 

When he was sharin’ a bottle an’ a joint

He was much more likeable, a dirt-road drunk

But now he shares Jesus through a bullhorn

And notches souls on his Sears & Roebuck guitar

 

(God sent me to preach you to Heaven!)

 

He hates them town churches like he hates the devil

Lost a finger at the sawmill; carries groceries now

His mama gives him a ride to work each day

She says th’ cops is always a-pickin’ on him

 

(Don’t you go to Hell with them Methodists and Popists!)

 

She says th’ police don’t like him or Jesus

But he had convictions before he got Conviction

 

(And let th’ people say, “A-men!”)

“And Wrinkled Lip, and Sneer of Cold Command” - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

“And Wrinkled Lip, and Sneer of Cold Command”

 

 

“That Colossal Wreck”

 

-Shelley, “Ozymandias”

 

 

Now where have all the red caps of livery gone?

The bumper stickers, the banners, the made-in-China tees

The tattered flags that fanned our people cold

The tatty bibles with their leader’s ‘graph

 

An old man plays with a toy triumphal arch

Neither Doric nor Ionic nor Corinthian

But rather after the order of Albert Speer

Astride a cemetery axis road

 

Like a pompous colossus in gold and gilt -

But by the Grace of God, never to be built

 

 

 

Allusions, Collusions, and Confusions

 

Title: from “Ozymandias”

1. An allusion to “Where Have all the Flowers Gone?”, a song of disastrous transition and a circle of death caused by war. The origins are worth reading up.

1. Livery in the sense of a wealthy master’s uniforms or costumes for his servants or slaves

2-4. The vulgar merchandising of the presidency

3. Macbeth I.ii.56-57

4. The merchandizing of the presidency and Christianity, with non-canonical secular content that appears to form a biased foundation document establishing a national religion

6. The three noble orders of architecture

7. Albert Speer was Hitler’s architect. The proposed Trump arch is reminiscent of Speer’s heavy-footed and often cluttered designs. Toward the end of his, oh, career Hitler often retreated to the room where Speer’s models were kept so that he could play with them

8. The proposed Trump arch would dominate the road to Arlington, a siting which many perceive as disrespectful to the American war dead buried there

9. Colossus – many historical and literary allusions. Shelley’s “Ozymandias” has often been referenced in the dissolution of the trumperies of tyrants, their architectural, artistic, and name-stamping vanities

9. The axis / Axis wordplay is obvious

9 – 10. Gilt as guilt, another obvious wordplay

The Little Sisters of the Enneagram - poem

  

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and Love

Home - Hello Poetry

 

The Little Sisters of the Enneagram

 

Wel koude he rede a lesson or a storie,

But alderbest he song an offertorie

 

-Chaucer, General Prologue 70-71

 

Some travelling nuns offered an enneagram weekend

Making the parish hall a lab for self-discovery

Nine truths about the self for a small fee stipend

Two afternoons of healing for the soul’s recovery

 

The Law of Three and the Law of Seven

Tritipes and Wings and something called Triads

Ride your Hexagon around to Heaven

(Please power down your MePhones and IPads)

 

If everyone in the world worked out his enneagram…

We’d still have cope with holy grifters, so (darn)!

Poems Three Times Each Day - poem

  Lawrence Hall Mhall46184@aol.com Dispatches for the Colonial Office LogoSophia Magazine – A Pilgrim's Journal of Life, Literature and ...