Where is Herod's Father? - poem

  

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

 

Where is Herod’s Father?

 

…lamentation, and weeping, and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children,

and would not be comforted, because they are not.

-Saint Matthew 2:16-18

The Herod of today squats alone in his room

Alone, devoid of parenting or purpose

Feverishly feeling sorry for himself

His only friend is his Precious, his glowing screen

 

(And where is his father?)

 

He scribbles screaming screeds and manifestos

And draws cool pictures of army guns ‘n’ stuff

Mommy lets him do whatever he wants

Maybe another weapon will calm him down

 

(But where is his father?)

 

He counts the children in the village school

He draws a floor plan of the village church

He clutches his he-man tough guy army gear

He sends his sulkings through the GossipNet

 

(Oh, where is his father?)

 

A naked AR fantasy hangs on his wall

He takes him down, he wants to fondle him

He feels, he doesn’t think, he feels, he feels –

Maybe Moloch wasn’t such a bad guy after all

 

(Now where is Herod’s father?)

An Hour in Which Nothing Much Happened - poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

 

An Hour in Which Nothing Much Happened

 

 

The country talked quiet;

one human voice could drown it out…

 

Lonesome Dove, p. 26

 

 

No real mission; I just wanted a walk

Along the road, with work gloves and loppers in hand

Through the wavery heat on a late-summer day

To clear some windfall blocking much of the lane

 

Butterflies danced among bright yellow flowers

Mourning doves murmured in the underbrush

Wrens and buntings and sparrows up in the pines

A little snake wriggled for cover and shade

 

Their beauty and silence – those were their talk

No real mission; I just wanted a walk

The Government Religion in Texas - poem (a bit strident, but so is Ken Paxton's commandment)

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

 

The Eleventh Commandment Falls Upon Us

From the State Religion in Austin

 

 “Schools not enjoined by ongoing litigation must abide by S.B. 10 and display the Ten Commandments.”

-Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton

25 August 2025

 

“It denies us the right of worshipping the Almighty according to the dictates of our own conscience, by the support of a national religion…”

-Texas Declaration of Independence

2 March 1836

 

Our attorney general elects himself God

And imposes upon us his government church 

To rule us, perhaps, by a religion squad

Subjecting us all to seizure and search

 

For under his high-tech inquisition

One’s conscience must obey his moods and rages

This Torquemada on his punitive mission

He’ll ponder our punishment – maybe the cages?

 

Our attorney general elects himself God

And Texans famous for freedom submit to his rod

Ode to a Monitor Lizard - rhyming doggerel

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

 

Ode to a Monitor Lizard

 

I saw a picture of a monitor lizard

Its skin is scaley and its tongue is scissored

I’d back away from that wrinkly old wizard -

I don’t want to be ground up in its gizzard!

Making Peace with Apple ICloud - poem (of a sort)

  

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

 

Making Peace with Apple ICloud

 

(Off. Click)

"I Pray You, Remember the Porter" - a poem about a sort-of retirement

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

 

“I Pray You, Remember the Porter”

 

-Macbeth II.ii.20-21

 

When I was a young husband and father

I served: on the parish council, taught CCD

Chaperoned bake sales, CYO, and youth trips

Eucharistic minister, lector, and greeter

          (No one else could hand out a leaflet with such grace,                          such elegance, such panache!)

 

But with age, and one by one, I let them go

This morning I asked to be recused at last

From thirty years on the lector duty list

“God’s benison go with you…”

 

As lector

I lost confidence in sorting out the new ways of doing things

Of being where I’m supposed to be

And moving when I’m supposed to do so

And moving where I’m supposed to do so

Carrying the lectionary without dropping it

Mounting the Altar steps without tripping

Standing in one place for more than a few minutes

Seeing the words clearly (why is the print so small?)

Wreathing the verbs without thripping over my thongue

 

But I’m still a greeter – I can open the door

‘Tis my appointed skill level, but ‘tis one

As Macduff did not say

No leaflets, though; that stuff’s now on the InterGossip

 

I smile and open the door, admire babies, help with coats

Show visitors the way to the euphemism

Tell the kids how tall they’ve grown

(You’re a senior!? Why, I remember when…)

 

And it’s okay.

 

I am blessed with honor, love, and troops of friends

          (as Macbeth could not say)

 

Honor, love, and troops of friends

 

All good.

 

Deo gratias

When Alliteration and Peter Piper Go Bad - Nonsense

  

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

 

When Alliteration Goes Bad

 

Peter

Piper

Picked a

Peck of

Pickled

Hamsters