Biography of Peter Hall
Hall is Australian born, but calls Scotland home. He is a poet, a songwriter, musician, accountant, pastor, follower of Jesus Christ, son, husband, father, sports lover and coffee drinker.
Hall says 'poetry is about communicating 'what is' and 'what could be', or 'what should be' '.
Hall's poetry influences are from a 'melting pot' of Australian and British cultures and writers. Being Australian born, his early work was influenced by the Australian 'bush poets'; Henry Lawson and 'Banjo' Paterson. Hence the rhythmic nature of his early poetry. However, since relocating to Scotland, his work moved away from the 'bush poetry' style to the 'free-verse' style of the British poets such as Seamus Heaney and Highland poet; Sorley Maclean.
However, most of his content is based on his work as a Prison Chaplain and Pastor. If it's not a Spiritual poem, his work reflects his landscape he finds himself in.
Peter Hall Poems
Identity controls behaviour
Identity controls behaviour Identity controls emotions Identity controls how we think Identity controls behaviour.
Learning from mistakes
I have finally come to the place Where things can come off the shelf So I can try to learn from mistakes And not be so hard on myself.
I saw a funny man
I saw a funny man Who wore funny clothes Had a hole in his jacket And three holes in his nose.
A Time To Die
There's a time to live There's a time to die, And a time to laugh And a time to cry,
I was born in Green Valley, west of Liverpool, west of Sydney, Australia. It's like being born in the Bronx, or Tottenham, or Shankhill, or Govan in Glasgow. I might as well have been born there too.
After the rain
Hail Wind Rain Chaos.
The Life that God is Is the Life that God Gives. The Life that you see
'Don't move' (The bank robbery)
On an average summer day Under a turquoise Sydney sky, I was a new parent and bank teller When I saw a bearded guy.
The force of nature
Apples 'n' snakes A force of nature for the unredeemed.
Why so surprised at London's burning? Why so perplexed a generation is yearning? Look and see their emotional diet You'll find the reason to the London riots.
The leaving of a loved one
The pall of the winter night descends As slow as the gray clouds that gather A chill in the air condescends As the Scottish winter night darkens the heather.
Heroes born and heroes bled Heroes that live and fill our head We need heroes so we can be lead Is there a real true hero?
Blood In, Blood Out
The creed of the gang Blood in, blood out. Identity
The humanist funeral
The coffin is draped in the national flag A mix of people who are happy and sad This is a testament to the humanist stand Welcome to a humanist funeral.
I had an emotional dream last night
I was teaching my Grandson to fly a kite.
It flew so high till it was unseen
I gave him the rope at the start of the dream.
He asked me 'does God really live up there? '
As the kite floated higher into the air.