Thursday, February 22, 2024

Standing the Test of Time - quatrain

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Standing the Test of Time

 

So tell me about life’s test – is it multiple-guess?

Or fill-in-the-blanks for my empty mind

If the most common answer is C…oh, what a mess!

Gimme a hint, Teach; I’m falling behind!

The Wind Drove the Pages Wild - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

The Wind Drove the Pages Wild

 

Reading Yevtushenko on a Windy Day

 

The flapping, fluttering pages went wild in the wind

And poetry sometimes should go wild, blow wild

To shake those gently slumbering words awake

Provoking peaceful musings into a storm

 

Nouns chasing verbs into logical conclusions

That turn about and bite the reader in the (hand)

And adjectives torment the symbolism

While adverbs, as always, were mostly in the way

 

I just wanted a quiet hour with coffee and verse

But flapping, fluttering pages went wild in the wind

Tuesday, February 20, 2024

A Single, Intemperate, Ill-Mannered Line About Tucker Carlson

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

A One-Line Dismissal of Tucker Carlson Isn’t a Poem, But…

 

 

Democracy dies in dorkness


Waiting for the Other Boot to Drop - quatrain

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Waiting for the Other Boot to Drop

 

And it’s not even a good and honest boot

But the steel-tapped heel and studded sole

Of anger, hatred, and existential despair

One that takes time to pause and stomp the flowers



(The village grouch; you know him)

Faces Among the Leaves - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Faces Among the Leaves

 

At first she thought it was but the rock and the bushes…

But all at once she was aware of a face among the leaves…

 

Sigrid Undset, Kristin Lavransdatter

 

There are curious faces among the leaves

Among the trees and sometimes in the trees

Along the road a little old man appears

Looking at me from the trunk of a rotting pine

 

He seems to be a little bit annoyed

But not dangerous; he’s become used to me

Tapping along with my shiny hiker’s stick

Searching the winter sky for something of truth

 

And there are bare feet dancing in the underbrush

And faces in the trees I must not see

A Ballerina Arrested for High Treason - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

A Ballerina Arrested for High Treason

 

Let them dance in praise of His name

 

-Psalm 150

 

A ballerina was arrested for high treason

 

And no wonder – dance is a beautiful thing

Whether the thunderous tread of a country line

Or the ethereal flights of Russian ballet

Dance is a joy, and so must be suppressed

 

A ballerina was arrested for high treason

 

A dancer moves to mysteries of her own

On an imperial stage in Saint Petersburg

Or barefoot in a meadow among butterflies

Dance is a joy, and must be controlled

 

A ballerina was arrested for high treason

 

In the street or in a moonlit fairies’ ring

Such wild wonder – dance is a dangerous thing!

 

A ballerina was arrested for high treason

 

 

American Ballerina Ksenia Karelina Is Detained For 'high Treason' In Russia By Putin's Feared FSB Security Accused Of Raising $51 For The Ukrainian Army And Could Face 20 Years In Jail If Found Guilty - Ny Breaking News

Monday, February 19, 2024

Sunshine is Dogshine - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

 

Sunshine is Dogshine

 

Be prepared. A dog is adorable and noble.

A dog is a true and loving friend. A dog

Is also a hedonist.

 

-Mary Oliver, “The Wicked Smile”

 

My little dogs pause at the kitchen door

But after tentatively testing the air

Run wild into the sunlit of a rare warm day

Leaping across the long-dead summer grass

 

They tumble and roll, and loll with their tummies up

For each little sunbeam is a doggie-kiss

To be cherished against the next arctic front

When the sleeting wind rattles the window panes

 

My little dogs scratch at the kitchen door

Sunshine is dogshine

But now they want a doggie-nosh and a nap

Reading the Room - doggerel

   Lawrence Hall Mhall46184@aol.com Dispatches for the Colonial Office   Reading the Room   I don’t know to read a room, but look – I’m stil...