Dispatches for the Colonial Office

Tuesday, September 1, 2026

Civil Penalties for Mailing Anything Dangerous - poem

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

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

Home - Hello Poetry

“Civil Penalties for Mailing Anything Dangerous”

…our children will be ashamed…

remembering how in so strange a time

common integrity could look like courage

-Yevtushenko, “Talk,” in Selected Poems: Yevtushenko

The postmistress chants this as part of her list to us

Whenever a citizen sends a package by postal bus:

Civil penalties for mailing anything dangerous

Firearms, fireworks, a radioactive truss

Air bags - and why mail one? (just an aside)

Poisons, perishables, formaldehyde

The cremated ashes of your cousin Clyde

Or anything else on the weirdo side

Logical enough

But in these fearful days, under our mad regime

Mailing even a thoughtful letter is a dangerous scheme

Saturday, August 29, 2026

A Pinball Game with Some Come-to-Jesus Music - 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

A Pinball Game with Some Come-to-Jesus Music

The ritual signing of a padded book

And then invisible paddles launch us into the game

Among electrical bumpers of whisperers

Clustered in their several corners and slots

Suspicious smiles that don’t conceal holy hate

As they repel outsiders through platitudes

Invisible daggers fly through the sacred air

The silent sibilant hisses are heard all the same

The dear departed in his old Sunday suit

Seems to smile in peaceful anticipation

of being rid of all of us

Ka-Ching!

Exit the Hurricane, 2017 - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

a re-post from 2017

Exit the Hurricane 2017 (not the catchiest title, eh?)

What is that silence? It is the not-rain
The first not-rain since Friday this past week
Every loud frog gloats in unseemly song
The old, sour water recedes from the door

The whole house stinks; it stinks of damp and rot
Of clothes unwashed because the drains are dammed
Of smelly shoes and even smellier socks
Of refugee gear flung casually about

The whole house stinks; it stinks of damp and rot
Of too many people – and isn’t it wonderful!