StarPoet Newsletter Vol. XII, No. XXXIV

Saturday, 20 August 2011 22:00 Last Updated on Saturday, 20 August 2011 22:05

The StarPoet Newsletter
Vol. XII, No. XXXIV (August 21, 2011 C.E.)

counting down the days until the ten year anniversary of 9-11. I'm doing the final edits on The Anniversary newsletter which will appear, by luck, on 9-11-11. The world moves slowly, drifts from one war to another, with no hand upon the helm. Still love exists.

Sunlight slips through the window
Afternoon stretches into cooling dusk
Ursis circles close to the horizon
A half moon midway high overhead
Sleeps awaits us upstairs in bed
Arm in arm in love

Lisa Jain Thompson c. 2011 C.E.


Checking in on the count down on VH1, noting the tropes and and memes, listening to musical allusions that some times steal from the best, sometimes the mediocre.

the price we pay
The List
The names roll past, one by one, My eyes for friends and acquaintances: Whose life has spilled out in desert sands, Whose stained rivers in the mountains? Another list chiseled dark with names Slashes through our national grounds: I cannot read the classmates there, I cannot bring myself to remember: My eyes filled with tears untouched by time, My heart still hoping they might be alive.
— Lisa Jain Thompson (August 2011)

I was set free because my greatest fear had been realized, and I still had a daughter who I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became a solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life. -- J. K. Rowling

neither black, nor white, nor any shade of minority: only American
Blurred
This is my flesh, This is my skin, A dark golden olive When I'm in the sun; Too Mediterranean, Too Sicilian, Too North African To pass for Europe; I do not look like Our famous founders, My Quaker is distant In the aggregate; Iroquois is suggested, A certain cheek bone, My breath of Africa In my nose and lips; Many have found my Grandparents receptive, Left those remnants You see here in me; I am the child of A westward spirit, A slow-brewed soup Constantly mixed; This is my story, This is my blood, A human poet woman Alive on the Earth.
Lisa Jain Thompson (August 2011)

the word police need to crawl back into their dark caves
En-Cee-Eff
The N-word The C-word The motherfucking F-word Son of a bitch Ba fan gul Did Victoria return From the grave? What a prissy, Evil culture Where we dare not Mention Breast or Leg.
— Lisa Jain Thompson (August 2011)

Some girls want to be a princess when they grow up. I wanted to be in a bad bitch girl gang. -- Natalia Kills (Natalia Cappuccini)

this seems to be quite good but not obscure enough for the university professors
In Fields Green Poets Lie
Will I be reunited with Walt and Will Decades from now when I'm coldly gone? Will Sappho lay a wet one on me In some far better world than this one? I breathe the air that they all breathed, Grasp the fire that they once held, But though our electrons may mingle on the page, I think not that they shall ever lie with me. They are all quite gone, as I too soon will be, And the gods will find some other plaything For the muse to demand fresh offerings.
Lisa Jain Thompson (August 2011)

Though the sex to which I belong is considered weak you will nevertheless find me a rock that bends to no wind. -- Elizabeth I Regina

the colors of love
Tell me
Tell me you love me, Tell me you hate me, Tell me something That nobody knows; Tell me your secrets, Tell me your lies, Tell me the world's All ribbons and bows; Make me your Juliet, Make me Jackie and Diana, Make me a princess In a tower so white; Give me your money, Give me your jewels, Talk to my lawyer, A cunning Black Knight; Tell me you love me, Tell me you hate me, Stand not on your leaving, Just go, darlin', just go.
Lisa Jain Thompson (August 2011)

apologies to Lennon and McCartney
Ticket to Ride
An infinity of sadness, Garnished with ecstasy and boredom, A galaxy of anguish offset By the rush of the moment, The electricity of touch, The brief hope of life And the promise of tomorrow; We float upon a world Trapped firmly around a star, Standing upright before the heavens To shout "Hey!" as we search For our ticket before some Wander conductor punches us out.
-- Lisa Jain Thompson (August 2011)

O Death, rock me asleep, bring me to quiet rest, let pass my weary guiltless ghost out of my careful breast. -- Anne Boleyn

opera
Butterfly
Listening to Butterfly, Georghiu and Jonas Kaufmann, Wishing my voice a soprano Instead of husky contralto: I can sing Betsy Smith, Joplin and Etheridge, And follow Roy Orbison, Pitney and all the rest, But I cannot sing Puccini Without making a fool of myself -- Not that it matters to anyone But me, for who would listen if I did?
Lisa Jain Thompson (August 2011)

slow recovery
Cedar Today
Cedar today, three-legged, Peed gracefully on a tree, Then pirouetted quickly And continued on his way; This might not seem much, A male dog should be able, But a month after a stroke, He'll take credit where he can; We cheered and applauded, Encouraged his athletic moves, Cedar smiled and wagged his tale, He had other bushes to do.
— Lisa Jain Thompson (August 2011)

The same hand that feeds you can be the one that wrings your neck. -- The Turkey Problem

the august weather
Thunder and Rainbow
Thunderclouds raling over my head, Rainbow in the east as the sun sets, Power gone to wherever power goes, As time slows Earth's rolling pace, A baseball game playing in my ear, Candles burning back on the table As night begins its fall Around the edges.
— Lisa Jain Thompson (August 2011)

dusk, between storms
At Dusk I saw an eagle flying low overhead On its way back to its nest Above the rail trestle near the lake; Either that, or a B-52 Silently flapping its wings On one last bombing run Before the sun sets completely.
— Lisa Jain Thompson (August 2011)
Diplomacy is the art of saying "Nice doggie" until you can find a rock. -- Will Rogers


Copyright © Lisa Jain Thompson 1948-2011. Back issues are in the Newsletter Section of the StarPoet website. Visit my contact page and get in touch.