Tuesday, July 7, 2026

A Red Card? - 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 Red Card?

 

We will never give each other red cards

But how about a red maple leaf from Canada?

We could walk through Bowring Park in St. John’s

And watch the children play around Peter Pan

 

We will never give each other red cards

But like monarchs under bright red parasols

We could be the sovereigns of each other’s hearts

Along the Chao Phraya, the River of Kings

 

We will never give each other red cards –

But would you like a mischievous red balloon

                                 And a morning in Paris?

 

Music: “Le Ballon Rouge,” Maurice Leroux

Monday, July 6, 2026

Humans - They're What's for Dinner! - doggerel

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

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

Home - Hello Poetry

 

Humans – They’re What’s for Dinner!

 

I lay me down to sleep tonight

I pray the Lord that mosquitoes won’t bite

I fear that my brand new bug light

Will draw them near without harm or fright

 

They’re free to dance and mock and buzz –

          A live-and-let-live attitude

Is all that my new bug light does!

Saturday, July 4, 2026

A Complicated Affair of the Heart - a poem for Independence Day

 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 Complicated Affair of the Heart

 

 

“‘My country, right or wrong,’ is a thing that no patriot would think of saying.

It is like saying, ‘My mother, drunk or sober.'”

 

-G. K. Chesterton, The Defendant, 1901

 

 

At midday I finally posted the flag

After many hours of reflection and guilt

The bloody tyrant will think it is there for him -

But he cannot command our faithful hearts

 

His soldiers occupy our capital’s streets

Arresting citizens for crimes that never were

He wars against the nations while our Congress cowers -

But he cannot command our faithful hearts

 

That is not his flag over our still-standing ramparts -

For he cannot command our faithful hearts

 

4 July 2026

Criminally Made Algae - 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

 

Criminally Made Algae

 

 

“The Reflecting Pool is now in full use after suffering great damage from Criminal, Radical Left Vandals, people that truly hate our Country…the criminally made algae is gone”

 

The President, 28 June 2026, numerous sources

 

 

A dripping-damp alley off a sinister street

Among the garbage cans and omnivorous rats

A series of coded knocks on an obscure door

“Psssst! Neville the Liberal Arts Graduate sent me”

 

Sinister doings in a dimly-lit lab

Chemicals and curious machinery

“We can’t get the chlorophyl balanced, Boss”

“The gamete-producing cells must be shipped at dawn”

 

“Algae, comrades, remember our purpose, our goal!

Algae, comrades, for the president’s toilet bowl!”

 

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

I Caught the Sun - 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

 

I Caught the Sun

 

 

I’ll catch the sun, and never give it back again

 

-Rod McKuen, “I’ll Catch the Sun”

 

 

I caught the sun, but have to give it back

Always in memories, sometimes in bits of flesh

Once by square inches, now by centimeters

In the modern measurements of loss

 

We often caught the sun, shirtless and sunburnt

In the golden summers of our glorious youth

When solar radiation was good for us

While building bob-wire fences and working the fields


I once showed off my tan to pretty girls

But now only to dermatologists

 

 

“Bob wire” is the sweat-stained vernacular; “barbed wire” is the usage of people who never built fence.

The Empire of the Snail - haiku

 

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 Empire of the Snail

 

Pepper-climbing snail

Is grasped by the gardener’s glove

And then flung away

Sunday, June 28, 2026

Who Taught You How to Tie Your Shoes? - 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

 

 

Who Taught You How to Tie Your Shoes?

 

(a rabbit and a cousin help)

 

 

Now when we learn to count our fingers and toes

Learn about laundry hampers and feeding the dog

Eat with a spoon, pick up our toys and clothes

And gently, gently touch the little tree frog

 

We must then teach another child

 

To laugh when she counts her fingers and toes

Learn about laundry hampers and feeding the dog

Eat with a spoon, pick up her toys and clothes

And gently, gently touch the little tree frog

 

Civilization is generational

Pass it on

Saturday, June 27, 2026

Is Life an Open Road or a Blind Alley? - 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

 

“Is Life an Open Road or a Blind Alley?”

 

-de Chardin, Pensee 33

 

 

You can tell it’s an open road because

Someone has crow-barred the rusty lock and chain

 

You can tell it’s a blind alley because

Of your dark glasses and your tapped-out white cane

If We are a School of Poetry, Then When is Recess? - 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

 

If We are a School of Poetry, Then When is Recess?

 

 

…what we mean to establish is a school for the Lord’s service

 

-St. Benedict’s prologue to his Rule

1997 English edition, Ampleforth Abbey

 

 

When a poet consecrates a poem

(Which is in the nature of what poets do)

And a soul-friend breathes beauty into it

Then they have formed a school of poetry

 

Which is not a school for the Lord’s service

Except that it is – all this shifting of words

From chaos into meaning and purpose and love

Is a school of life, only without the home-room pledge

 

(or morning Mass or a chemistry lab)

 

We write in procession through cloisters of hope

To elevate each other as presentations of truth

Wednesday, June 24, 2026

How Big is Our Universe? - 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 Big is Our Universe?

 

 

Time goes by – or do we?

 

- The Once and Future King / Camelot

 

 

How big is our universe? How deep? How far?

In youth we learn of planets, orbits, and stars

Of the infinite Great Dance of the Spheres

And God, before forever, Who created all

 

But meditate upon this pilgrimage -

Will we shrink it into a transient Now

Which with death and dust and ruin and rot

Seems to go away even before the next hour?

 

Let us stand on this cusp of Creation

And together we will consider the Beyond

Monday, June 22, 2026

Basho's Frog for Our Time - Haiku

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

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

Home - Hello Poetry

 

Basho’s Frog for Our Time

 

An old roadside ditch

A frog leaps into the lane

‘Neath Subaru tires

 

I suppose I had better apologize to Basho, his frog, the Japanese people, Subaru, the pretty little tree frog glaring at  me through my bedroom window, and all lovers of Haiku!

 

Later: a dear friend reminds me that I have touched on this topic before:

 

Flat Frog Floogie

 

The silent carport

A frog croaks under a tire

Then silence resumes

Pinched from Basho’s famous pond poem

Music: “Flat Foot Floogie,” 1938

Saturday, June 20, 2026

A Memorandum of Understanding for Dead Children - 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

 

 

A Memorandum of Understanding

 

And a Contemplation of the FIFA Peace Prize

 

 

The tiny hands of schoolchildren on fire

The tiny hands of schoolchildren sobbing for life

The old men on both sides claiming victory

Over

The ashes of schoolchildren at Shajareh Tayyebeh

The Great Riding Lawnmower Chase - rhyming doggerel

 

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 Great Riding Lawnmower Chase


A Song of My People

 

In the dust beside the highway

Wide ol’ Texas four-lane highway

Ran a fat man in his anger

In his white shorts, in his anger

 

To another man just like him

Mower-mounted on a lawn

On a John Deere painted green

But this was not a peaceful scene

 

Like angry Pillsbury Doughboys

Or like dropouts from a Sumo school

They grappled in the roadside dust

In fleshy fury (not in lust)

 

The mower-man finally thought it best

To steer his steed into the west

Across the highway, a running fight

Dodging traffic in the morning light

 

The foot-man circled, the mower-man turned

The shrieking brakes of a big truck burned

Combat resumed in the turning lane

Beeps and honks again and again

 

I never saw the end of this chase

Who won the day, who won the race

Of if by the beginning of the next day’s dawn

Someone had finished mowing that lawn

 

In this I played with the Longfellow / Hiawatha meter, which is far more appropriate for serious long poetry, not a short frivolity. Longfellow sent me a note from the beyond advising me not to do this again.

Wednesday, June 17, 2026

Mister, Are You Saved? - 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

 

Mister, Are You Saved?

 

She patrolled the sidewalk and yelled at pedestrians:

“You sinners! You’re all a bunch of HELL-ions!”

 

I couldn’t escape her, so I smiled and waved

“Mister!” she yelled, “Do you think you’re saved!”

 

“No,” I replied (might as well be specific)

“Oh,” she said, “Then you’re a Catholic.”

 

I still have her tract, somewhere around here loose

Assuring me

                    that the Rosary

                                             is actually Satan’s noose

 

May God bless and protect street evangelists; as for Hegseth and his Reichskirche, well, they can go (bless) themselves.

Primrose-Cat and the Circle of Lunch - couplet

  

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

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

Home - Hello Poetry

 

Primrose-Cat and the Circle of Lunch

 

Primrose is afraid of bluejays, and wisely so

She enjoys dining on the occasional cardinal, though!

Letters of Transit - 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

 

Letters of Transit

 

Thanks to an idea from Omni and friends,

“Humphrey Bogart Blues,” Hello Poetry

 

There are always distracting macguffins in life:

A missing cufflink, Chekhov’s rifle, Tintern Abbey

An anonymous message torn in half

Letters of transit signed by General Weygand

 

But better are the letters of transit she writes:

Coded soul-maps in her sighs

Secret signals in her eyes

Her dreams revealed as this surprise -


The only true letter of transit is

Her love

Monday, June 15, 2026

A Three-Part Educational Case Study - 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 Three-Part Educational Case Study

 

1.

 

I noted that he was ambidextrous

“You can’t call me that; I’m straight!

I’m gonna tell my daddy what you said!”

 

II.

 

At graduation he asked me to help him with his tie

A manly handshake; we wished each other well

He disappeared among the cheap plastic gowns

 

III.

 

Before he was thirty he died of a heart attack

 

A Celebration of Freedom and Our Flag - doggerel

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

y

 

A Celebration of Freedom and Our Flag – Gramps’ Champs

 

 

“’Cause the flag still stands for freedom”

 

-Lee Greenwood

 

 

Will the Flag Day bloodfest hosted by Gramps

In the name of freedom, with MMA champs

Be broadcast to America’s

 

                                     concentration camps?

A Red Card? - poem

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