Monday, April 22, 2019

Neo-Platonic Darwinian Bird-Ness - poem

Lawrence Hall

Neo-Platonic Darwinian Bird-Ness

The birds might say, “Oh, look at the pretty humans!
They have waited all winter for us to return!”
And so we have, like seasonal hoteliers
Inviting our guests back for their holiday

The seed-buffets on little metal trays
And little plastic houses in the trees
Bespeak our thoughtful hospitality
For little friends who live upon their wings

Now summering in nest and eave and steeple
The birds must laugh, “Oh look at the people!”

Sunday, April 21, 2019

Ubi Petrus - poem (a repost for Easter Sunday)

Lawrence Hall

Ubi Petrus

For Inky and Jason

“Ubi Petrus, ibi Ecclesia”

- St. Ambrose of Milan

Where Peter was, there also was the Tomb --
Blood-sodden dreams cold-rotting in old sin,
The Chalice left unwashed, the Upper Room
A three-days’ grave for hope-forsaken men.

Where Peter is, there also should we be,
Poor pilgrims, his, a-kneel before the Throne
Of Eosian Christendom, and none but he
Is called to lead the Church to eternal Dawn.

Where Peter then will be, there is the Faith,
Transubstantiation, whipped blood, ripped flesh
A solid reality, not a wraith
Of shop-soiled heresies labeled as fresh.

Where Peter is, O Lord, there let us pray,
Poor battered wanderers along Your way.

Saturday, April 20, 2019

No One Has Messed Up Good Friday Yet - poem

Lawrence Hall

No One Has Messed Up Good Friday Yet

All Souls’ and All Saints’ were made to disappear
Easter is bad enough with rabbit eggs
And Christmas was appropriated by The People
As a tribute to (belch) Glorious Excess

But no one has taken Good Friday away
With gifts and treats and two-for-one specials
Down at Chez Bubba’s Discount Liquor and Smokes,
And Colonial Auto Parts stays open - why not?

But while the world spins along on its way
A few eccentrics remember Him this day

I'm late with this.  I hope the Holy Saturday Hamster (who leaves omelettes for good little girls and boys) isn't miffed about it.

Friday, April 19, 2019

"Stop Crying While I'm Making Your Lives Happy! - poem

Lawrence Hall

An All-Purpose Holiday Behavior Modification Plan
(no, no, just a house I visited long ago -
I escaped as fast as I could)

She will make it a perfect holiday

(“Don’t touch those cookies! They’re for later!”)

Just like the ones on H & G TV

(“Don’t touch Santa! I’ve got him where I want him!”)

With the perfect table and decorations

(“Who moved the Easter bunny, *** **** it!?”)

Exactly like the ones in the magazines

(“Just leave the tree alone; I’LL decorate it!”)

And smiling faces all around the house

(“I expect a little cooperation around here!”)

Perfectly wrapped presents with perfect bows

(“Turn the tree…not that way…LISTEN TO ME!”

Cute Easter baskets for each little child

(“Leave those chocolates alone! you’ll ruin your lunch!”)

Marshaled prettily for a photograph

(“Oh, ****! There’s a grass stain on your church dress!”

Meemaw and Pawpaw will be proud of them

(“**** it! I told you not to play outside in your church dress!”)

The children’s table is just like a picture

(“Not yet! We haven’t even said the ****ed grace!”)

A perfect holiday, or she’ll just die -
No matter how many children are made to cry

Thursday, April 18, 2019

A Load or Two of Codswallop - poem

Lawrence Hall

A Load or Two of Codswallop

One hears of a load of codswallop
But no one knows what a codswallop is
And only by the load, or can you buy a dollop?
And just who is in the codswallop biz?

Wednesday, April 17, 2019

If There is a Rebound, There Must Have Been a Bound - poem

Lawrence Hall

If There is a Rebound, There Must Have Been a Bound


I don’t understand basketball at all
Women and men run around in funny clothes
Yelling a lot while keeping a basketball
From each other in a shoe-slapping gym


And they yell “REBOUND!” more than anything else
And I hear each “REBOUND!” echoing about
And shoes slide-squeaking on the wooden floor
And I have no idea what any of it means


I only know that roundballers are tall

Beyond that

I don’t understand basketball at all


Tuesday, April 16, 2019

The Pragmatic Sanction of a Penny Candle - poem

Lawrence Hall

The Pragmatic Sanction of a Penny Candle

Nothing is more pragmatic than a votive light
A candlelight
A little light
A prayer light