Monday, December 10, 2007

Living Room Cafe

I baked the last five strips
of bacon in a shallow pan
at 375 degrees on a Friday
night as the month of
October came to a close.
While the sizzle and scent
crescendoed in the oven,
my cat lifted her nose in the
air to sniff the pork as it popped.

Twenty-three minutes later,
I read an article on the history
of American music with one
hand on my bacon sandwich and
one hand on the magazine,
my living room now a sort
of makeshift eatery, with all the
comforts of home and the smells
and sounds of a corner cafe.

© Amy E. Hall 2007

Friday, December 07, 2007

(crisp bacon sandwich)

crisp bacon sandwich
cold Coca-Cola Classic
quiet Friday night

© Amy E. Hall 2007

Saturday, October 27, 2007

Clean Sweep

My heart is a
cavern housing
remnants of secrets
from my former
life -- memories
of you and
misgivings that
I wish I could
sweep out with
a fine-toothed
comb to reach
those lingering,
unwanted hangers-on
that hide in the
cracks, corners
and crevices.

© Amy E. Hall 2007

Friday, October 26, 2007

(minutes turn into)

minutes turn into
snails as I await your re-
ply this afternoon

© Amy E. Hall 2007

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

My Reading Interrupted by a Kiss

They walked in the door
hand in hand, the mother
first, followed by her
abnormally slender son.
Her offspring obviously
suffering from a disfiguring
physical condition, she
led the way through the
busy repair shop's customer
lounge. As we waited for
our names to be called,
some read, some talked
with inside voices, and
others watched the Channel
2 Morning News. The
young man leaned over
to his mother's ear and
uttered a few indistinguishable
syllables and she responded
in hushed tones. With a
mother's understanding, she
got up and poured her special
boy a cup of coffee and
served it with a stirring stick.
As he sucked the steaming
beverage through the
makeshift straw, he held
his Styrofoam cup carefully
while she poured a cup of
joe for herself. Once she sat
down again, he leaned over
and toasted a cheer to his
mom, tapping his white cup
against hers with a crooked
smile. Trying not to eavesdrop
or interrupt their tender
moment, my tears increased
as she leaned over and
kissed his sweet, distorted,
beautiful, little face.

© Amy E. Hall 2007

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

(cat dusty)

cat dusty
from her romp
in the windowsill

© Amy E. Hall 2007

Monday, October 01, 2007

Summer Simplicity

As summer begins to
close her eyes in
exchange for fall's
awakening, I want
to remember these
days; what it feels
like to slip into
sandals, and hop into
the car without a
jacket and drive to
meet some friends
with Tennessee's green
hills in front of me and
the sun on my back.

© Amy E. Hall 2007

Friday, September 28, 2007

Return of the Herons

They prefer to come out at night
by the light of the moon
when they have a captive audience
on a Tennessee patio deck
at the end of summer.

© Amy E. Hall 2007

Thursday, September 27, 2007


I want to stay up all night
and read books -- a book
about loving homosexuals,
one on how to help people,
and my poetry prof's latest
collection. I want to forget
about showing up at the
office at 8 a.m. and read
deep into the night, with a
strong cup of black tea with
sugar to start, followed later
by a mixed-berry-flavored
green tea, and filtered water
for a chaser. I want to read
and drink the hours away, full
of the wonder of words and
those who craft them.

© Amy E. Hall 2007

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Burning Bridges

I've been saving a candle
that you bought me 10
years ago. Tonight, I am
burning the candle, as well
as that bridge to the past.

© Amy E. Hall 2007

Monday, September 10, 2007

(got makeup on the)

got makeup on the
pages of my new book while
trying to smell it

© Amy E. Hall 2007

Sunday, September 09, 2007

Saving the Planet One Saturday at a Time

I set out on a Tennessee August morning
with a strong mug of black tea and
four plastic bags of recyclables. The
15-minute drive didn't seem out of my
way at all, on a leisurely Saturday with
the new Over the Rhine album spinning
and the beautiful houses lining the roads.
When I drove up to Granberry Elementary,
I saw children, parents and grandparents
in the parking lot emptying their bags
and bins into the large, green dumpsters,
each wearing a silent smile on their face.
I unloaded my car and placed two of the
four bags on the pavement next to my
Corolla and went to contribute my
glass-bottle and tin-can offerings to the
green gods. When I returned to the
Toyota to empty the other two bags,
I noticed that they were gone. Looking up,
I realized that a young mother and her son
had seen my bags and volunteered to
empty them, without a whisper. On my way
back home, I couldn't help but feel good,
knowing that I made a small dent in the
refuse relief effort that day, on a Saturday
morning in a matter of three minutes.

© Amy E. Hall 2007

Saturday, September 08, 2007






© Amy E. Hall 2007

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

I Deserve Better Than a Half-Baked Love

It's hard to wait for the
main course when you're
hungry. Ample appetizer
choices tempt you to
fill up on tantalizing tidbits
one bite at a time.

It gets lonely dining by
yourself -- one person
at a table set for two --
as pretty as the table
might be, with glowing
votives and romantic roses.

But I want the real meal deal --
not some fill-me-up
pick-me-up. It's easier
to hail the server and
order a cocktail than
to sit and endure
abdominal rumbles,
salivatory reactions
and sensory overload.

I've had my fill of
hors d'oeuveres
in the past. I'm
ready for the
complete entree --
the whole enchilada.
I will survive the
hunger pangs and
the craving for
that which truly
nourishes -- in
anticipation of the
special order the
Head Chef
is preparing for me
by hand.

© Amy E. Hall 2007

Sunday, August 05, 2007

(Once I heard)

Once I heard
your voice,
I could breathe again.

© Amy E. Hall 2007

Saturday, August 04, 2007

Freedom Friday

for Angela and Julie

I remember our evening at
Laguna Beach -- the perfect
blend of sun and breeze,
fish and avocado on the patio,
the lively waves sneaking
up on us and our rolled-up
pant legs, happy dogs
walking their owners, the
sparkling sand drying on
our feet -- all reminders of
the vastness of the
goodness of our Father.

© Amy E. Hall 2007

Saturday, July 07, 2007

21-Day Turnoff

I will not be blogging between July 8 (12 p.m.) and July 28 (11:55 p.m.). I am voluntarily participating in a 21-day media turnoff for the purposes of "detoxifying" from the influences of American media and culture, and further cultivating my spiritual life and intimacy with Jesus Christ. For more information on the 21-Day Turnoff, click here. I shall return...

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

(bird in the airport)

bird in the airport
telling us how much he wants
to find his way out

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Monday, June 25, 2007

(Monday morning smile)

Monday morning smile:
fresh hot water on the Bunn
Omatic burner

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Sunday, June 24, 2007

(a steeping black brew)

a steeping black brew
my favorite morning mug
nectar of the leaves

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Saturday, June 23, 2007

(her record)

her record
beautifully haunting
like dark honey dripping thickly

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Friday, June 22, 2007

(realizing that)

realizing that
I am no longer the same
woman you once knew

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

(on the way to work)

on the way to work
eating plastic-flavored cheese
old Monterey Jack

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Monday, May 21, 2007

(Sunday night in the)

Sunday night in the
backyard, irritated with
the dictionary

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Thursday, May 17, 2007

(I wrote this haiku)

I wrote this haiku
because I didn't have a
new one to send you.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Back-Up Sweater

I've got a sweater that smells like
"cabinet." It lives in my filing
cabinet at work and lies in wait for
unexpected, indoor arctic blasts
and unsightly wardrobe catastrophes.
A hand-me-up from my little sister,
the black cardigan sports
endearing, white pill balls and
a hole in the armpit region.
Despite its geriatric-like shrinkage,
I can't bring myself to throw
the poor thing away, remembering
all the years and relationships
and jobs and moves that we've
weathered together.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

The Bathroom Game

When it comes to the ladies' room,
there are rules to abide --
unspoken standards to uphold,
understood etiquette -- pee-pee protocol
and doo-doo decorum, if you will.
This code of conduct especially
relates to the public work restroom.
Those who play the game will
experience the least amount of
nasal discomfort and embarrassment.
Those who refuse to adopt the laws
of the stalls, will suffer the due penalty.

Rule #1: Enter said establishment.
Rule #2: Scout out the available stalls.
Rule #3: Match up the ladies at the sinks to the appropriate toilets.
Rule #4: Avoid entering the stall that was most recently vacated, at all cost.
Note: This will require quick assessment and problem-solving skills on your part.
Rule #5: When possible, allow for an empty stall between you and the next pottier.
Rule #6: Select the best choice at that moment.
Rule #7: Toilet as necessary.
Rule #8: Proceed to your assigned sink.
Rule #9: While washing hands, glare at any noncompliant pottier, letting the offender know that she is out of line.
Rule #10: Exit the establishment and wish any incoming traffic good luck.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Monday, May 14, 2007

Between the Lines and Me

I like to hold books and
magazines and CD booklets
in my hands. Electronic
versions don't allow
for handling and care
and communion between
the author, the pages,
the words and the reader.

I like to live in a book --
to touch and participate,
to make notes in the margins,
to bravo, to question, to laugh.
There is a quiet exchange
between the lines and me,
a silent interaction (though
sometimes I laugh out loud
or sigh with great delight).

Every new book is a
literary cornucopia --
full of wit, mystery,
inspiration, wisdom --
a word awaiting, a
new world to discover,
to experience, to embrace,
a friend to keep on the
shelf of my heart.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Monday, April 30, 2007


a chirp from
my happy cat

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Sunday, April 29, 2007

Healing Like a Whisper

It's funny how healing arrives
so quietly,
so gracefully,
in such contrast to the
rage and unmanageable
chaos of unhealthy
relationships, addictions
and personal pandemonium
that blow in like a hurricane,
exploiting your most
precious possessions;
ripping life right out
of your fingertips.

The peace appears
so softly,
so subtly,
on tiptoes;
without introduction --
like a whisper --
telling me that health
and new life are here;
that the things which once
consumed me no longer
burn within me, but have
been relinquished and
replaced with healing balm.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Saturday, April 28, 2007

Bookstore Boar

"We have a no-snoring
policy," she assured me
from behind the counter.
The large man in the
true blue sweat suit and
camouflaged vest had been
disturbing my reading for
10 minutes and counting.
The deep, nasal vacuum
vortex sounded more like
an industrial machine
than a man. The barista
called for the manager
as I angrily took out
my notebook to write.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Thursday, April 26, 2007

Good Use of Time

I read a poem during the
three minutes my
tea was steeping.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

I'm Becoming a True Introvert

My favorite evenings consist of
a big bowl of mint chocolate chip
ice cream and an equally tasty book.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

My Girl

She knows how to be
She knows just the
right pose or look
to give me that will
send me into a
state of acute
appreciation --
the kind that seizes
me until I pet her velvet
She knows the cutest
ways to meow and
purr and stir her paws.

And she knows it.

She knows she's
And there's no way
I can help myself
from loving and
stroking and cooing
and thinking how
lucky I am to have
found her.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Monday, April 23, 2007


Sitting at home with
a new book,
new magazine
and two new CDs.

More Bliss:

All bought on sale.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Saturday, April 07, 2007

In Those Last Moments

What must it have been like
to know that you were about
to be torturously beaten and
brutally crucified? I wonder
if He reviewed His time on
earth in the Garden of
Gethsemane, flipping
through the slide show of
His mind. Did He think of
His family -- His father's
smile, His mother's embrace,
His siblings' laughter --
His favorite adventures,
His favorite foods, His closest
friends? Did He rub His hands
and feet, nauseous at the
thought of the massive nails
ripping their muscles and
snapping their bones? I wonder
if, in His mind's eye -- with the eye
of the Spirit -- He saw the faces
of those He healed and
delivered, and the faces
of all those yet to be freed.
Ultimately, in those last
moments, He saw the face
of God, the will of His Father.
He said "no" to His flesh and
His emotions and "yes" to the
Kingdom of Heaven, as
He knelt one last time and
said, in essence,
"Your Kingdom come.
Your will be done."

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

(happiness is)

happiness is
sushi and ice cream
with a friend

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Monday, March 26, 2007

(every morning)

every morning
Asian man
walking the sidewalk

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Sunday, March 25, 2007

(puffy clouds)

puffy clouds
low enough to pass
for a second tree line

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Saturday, March 24, 2007

I Wonder What You Are Thinking, But I'm Not Going to Try to Find Out

Twenty months after our last
good-bye, you left a message
on my voicemail account at work
to wish me a happy birthday.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Friday, March 23, 2007

(colors flirt with)

colors flirt with
the morning sky
horizontal rainbow

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Tea by Invitation

Tea is a lady's drink.

There's a quiet strength inside those leaves.
Tea does not assault the body, like coffee.
Rather, it washes over the system, by invitation,
lending what is desired -- be it flavor, repose or
wakefulness. Tea is a song of celebration,
a song of comfort, a song of centricity.

Tea is a lady's drink.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Woman of the Word

for Julie Jarrett Hall

I remember walking through the backyard
behind our little brick house, singing the lines
to your songs during my afternoon playtime.
I felt important, knowing all the words and
the melodies. Proud of myself, I sang the
verses and choruses out loud, feeling some
sense of connection with your songs and
with you. On those hot summer days, I was
proud of myself, proud of you and proud
to be your daughter.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Saturday, February 24, 2007

Presents from Dad

He was so excited to bring "surprises"
home to us, whether it was a $5 movie
from McDonald's, Sam's Club chocolate
chip cookies, or a two liter of Dr. Pepper.
My sisters and I would laugh at him
and try to downplay his "treats," but it
was his simple, silly, contagious joy
that made the best gift of all.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Friday, February 23, 2007

(mention of the "M word")

mention of the "M word"
giving me the shivers
on Rosa's couch

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Thursday, February 22, 2007

(I love this morning)

I love this morning --
tea, toast, cheese, apple
and poetry to start the day.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

(how I know that)

how I know that
she's awake: her
trademark sniffle

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

(I am writing poems and crying)

I am writing poems and crying --
so thankful for words and for
love and for loving words.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Monday, February 12, 2007

A Beautiful Sisterhood

for Lindsay and Joanne

There is nothing like the
tender kindness of a sister,
the delicate care of a friend.
I had never known this kind
of joy

before now,

this kind of pure delight that
frees my heart to be me in the
fullness of beauty and to rest
in the able arms of sisterhood.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Taste of Adulthood

"Why do I like coffee
so much?" I wonder, from
time to time. Perhaps
it's because Mom and
Dad drank it routinely
while I was growing
up. It seemed like
such an "adult" drink --
a special, yet necessary
treat -- with milk and
sugar each morning.
Or maybe because it
reminds me of my
college years --
discovering mochas,
hazelnut lattes, the smell
of espresso and the cool
coffeehouse culture.
I was finally a grown-up
enjoying the taste of
adulthood for myself.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Friday, February 09, 2007

The Beauty of Music

Unlike former fashions, old albums
never go out of style. I can pop a
CD in the player that smacks of
poodle skirts, bell-bottoms, leg
warmers or leather pants without
worry of how that might reflect on
my personal fashion sense. Music
bursts through barriers of time and
trend. It cannot be contained or
confined to years, decades or centuries.
Music lives on, as long as you play it.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Thursday, February 08, 2007

Poet for a Day

I traded my corporate
cubicle for a sophomore
literature class for the day,
reading selections for the
high school students in
my teacher friend's first,
second and fourth
periods, as a guest poet.
Afterward, I spent the
afternoon at a bookstore,
reading the work of
professional poets and
dreaming of the day
that it will be my turn.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

The Dancing Queen

She taught us what it meant to
be married to melody -- singing
and dancing across the linoleum
floor, sometimes lip-syncing and
sometimes belting out the lines
with gusto. My sisters and I sang
into hairbrushes with a sparkle in
our eyes, while the vinyl spun
'round and Mom reigned as queen
of the dining room dance floor.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Slow Down

Sometimes people let caffeine
get the best of them. They walk
around like they've got bees
in their britches, like the world
is going to expire if they don't
stomp down the halls at lightening
speed. Some days I fear being
trampled to death, while in the
path of someone on the warpath
to a corporate meeting. Unless
it's a "dire emergency" -- the term
my sixth grade teacher,
Mrs. Brewer, used to refer to
restroom urgencies -- or,
heaven forbid, your loved one has
been in a terrible accident, there
is no need to walk like a power
walker on a mission (unless, of
course, you are a power walker
doing your workout routine). The
fault does not necessarily lie in
the hands of espresso addicts, but
perhaps with American culture
as a whole. Maybe if we all
slowed down enough to see the
chaos we create for ourselves,
we would actually be productive.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Monday, February 05, 2007

Roommates Who Write

We meet in the kitchen --
she for her cereal and
me for my soup --
sharing a few words
before we retreat to
our respective quarters
and continue our writing.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Monday, January 15, 2007


It's hard for me to be
on your side of town.
There's too much history,
too many memories
to forget that my life
was once here
with you.

I do not wish to
repeat the past or
return to you.
There is much I
miss of you, but I
am not willing to
trade my life today
for that of yesterday.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Sunday, January 14, 2007

(the smell of a coffeehouse)

the smell of a coffeehouse:
one of the things I fell
in love with in college

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Saturday, January 13, 2007

(draining the last bit of)

draining the last bit of
froth from my coffee cup,
not wanting the evening to end

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Friday, January 12, 2007


The silence of readers reading,
the screech of the espresso machine,
the whispered conversations shared
between bites of bagel, biscotti and bisque,
each one a part of the quiet community --
learning, leaning and listening.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Thursday, January 11, 2007

(The less I spoke of you)

The less I spoke of you,
the quicker you left me

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

(my goal)

my goal:
to make sure
she smiles

© 2007 Amy E. Hall