Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
A Child Asked me a Reasonable Question about God
A child -
She asked of me
One day, you see
A question wise
For one her size
It wasn’t odd:
“I believe in God
But then does He
Believe in me?
Friday, September 5, 2025
A Child Asked me a Reasonable Question about God - poem
Friday, August 29, 2025
Because They are Young - poem
Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
Because
They are Young
For Those Who Have Lost
Children
The good die young, our blessed children,
our hope
Fresh to this world
they wanted so much to explore
They wanted to explore
everything – earth, air
Words, water, sky,
ideas, music, art, love
All the joys of being;
all Creation is their stupa
And they fly the
eternal pradakshina
In fulfillment, enlightenment,
and joy
Infinitely far, and
yet still close to us
We are less because
they have gone ahead
Along the happy pilgrimage
of faith
But they are more,
and they celebrate us too:
They love us and wait
for us along the Way
The good die young, and because they are
so good
We must strive to be worthy of them
Thursday, August 28, 2025
Where is Herod's Father? - poem
Lawrence Hall
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?)
Wednesday, August 27, 2025
An Hour in Which Nothing Much Happened - poem
Lawrence Hall
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
Tuesday, August 26, 2025
The Government Religion in Texas - poem (a bit strident, but so is Ken Paxton's commandment)
Lawrence Hall
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
Sunday, August 24, 2025
Ode to a Monitor Lizard - rhyming doggerel
Lawrence Hall
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)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)