This is the literary weblog of Jeffrey W. Hull, M.D., a pediatrician. It is intended mainly as a place to maintain a collection of poetry created for the enjoyment of a few friends and as an archive for my family. All material is protected by US copyright.

Jeffrey Hull

Friday, September 29, 2006


I stare at these four trailer walls
Where fame and fortune leave no calls
And wonder what made her decide
To leave our cozy single-wide.

What blandishments of here and now
Could nullify her marriage vow
To stick around through thin and thick,
Or rich or poor, or well or sick?

Just who enticed my erstwhile wife,
And promised her some better life?
Does sordid drama somehow seem
Fulfillment of a housewife's dream?

Good luck to her as off she goes;
She's packed her bags with more than clothes.
Though blame is mine, I think she'll see
When she arrives, well, there she'll be.

© 2006 Jeffrey Hull

Friday, September 22, 2006

Sunday Morning

© 2006 Rick Lee All rights reserved

Jemimahs on the griddle,
   Fat bacon in the pan;
No Sunday morning riddle–
   That's how please a man.

As fog burns off the hollow
   The moon goes off to bed,
And sleepy stars soon follow,
   Far ridgelines blushing red.

A moment quickly fleeting
   To drink the breaking light,
Then wash and off to meeting,
   And singing time tonight.

The Sabbath chores are calling,
   Won't wait another cup;
I'll have to quit my stalling
   And hitch the horses up.

© 2006 Jeffrey Hull

Friday, September 08, 2006


© 2006 Rick Lee All rights reserved.

Red light in the window, blue light by the door–
Old humiliations on the killing floor.
Hundred pounds of heartache, ounce of cheap perfume:
Dragged his resignation up to see her room.
After, there were mumbles; silent he arose,
Stripped of expectation, sorted out his clothes–
Rust around the drain plug, stains on dingy tiles–
Flickering fluorescents, lines that mark the miles.
Time to flee the morning, time to have a beer–
Warding off reflection how he wound up here.
Red light in the window, blue light in her eyes:
Hope has not forsaken–it's just in disguise.

© 2006 Jeffrey Hull

Friday, September 01, 2006

State of the Art

Manager, Maxfield Parrish

He's more flesh than spirit,
   He's more weak than strong;
Truth–he will not hear it,
   He's less right than wrong.

Sadder than he's wiser,
   He's more old than young;
Sleepless early riser,
   His songs die unsung.

© 2006 Jeffrey Hull
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