| Starpoet Newsletter Vol. IX, No. X |
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| News - Newsletters | |
| Written by Lisa Jain Thompson | |
| Sunday, 09 March 2008 | |
 The
Starpoet Newsletter Volume IX, No. X Waking at the sun rise
Wedged between you and Cedar I am safe With love on both sides
Although your breath smells better Than a border collie's Even in the morning Lisa Jain Thompson c. 2008 C. E.
  I try to take one day at a time,
But sometimes several days Attack me at once. -- Jennifer Yane We are alternating two days of sunshine with three of gray. Currently, life is gray and wet.
Cooking for those of you in need of such things
Would you like me to cook for you? Would you like me to cook for you?
It could be a secret we don’t want to share: Oysters sheathed in caramelized pork fat, Buttery risotto strewn with squid, The best pigeon you’ve ever eaten (Tasting a bit like game hens, I promise)
As we eat in our redesigned rustic kitchen; Crisp fried eggplant topped with calamari, Pastry layered with buratta cheese and roe, Pork wrapped in smoke ham on chestnut puree -- And that doesn’t count my breads and sweets.
There may be prettier spots done gaudy with celebrity, Trendy bistros where paparazzi lay lurking on the sidewalk, But no where else will you ever have what I can give you: Mouthfuls of honeyed pleasure at your leisure. Lisa Jain Thompson
March 2008 searching for answers instead of promise
Gobsmacked Is he a Muslim? A Spy? An Arab?
Is he Unpatriotic or a Terrorist? And what is it with his mouthy wife, What sort of commie socialists is she, Ungrateful and disrespecting What is wrong with this articulate black man
-- Barack Hussein Obama -- That he would vote present a hundred times Rather than taking a principled stand, What sort of politician is he anyway? His father was black as pitch, his mother white as milk,
A mixture of When we send our young men into harm's way, We have an obligation not to fudge the numbers, Stem cells, abortion, gay rights, and the war lie ahead. What might he say when the cameras are off
And he and his wife are naked in their bed? What imperfections will erupt in the heat of darkness When there are no more elections to win? Who then shall be President of our Lisa Jain Thompson
March 2007 Three things have helped me
Successfully go through the ordeals of life: An understanding husband, a good analyst, And millions of dollars.
-- Mary Tyler Moore
the fluff of life
Audition
Hemmingway had it right,
Grace under pressure Is the key to winning Idol; A great voice is not enough If you can't do it when it counts. Attitude works for Karaoke
Where a familiar tune captures the crowd, A smile, a sexy move, A suggestive twinkle in your eye
Most nights are enough for applause.
In the real world
Where you sing for pay Not fun, for your firiends, or a beer, You need to be good and different If you want to get out of Hollywood alive. Lisa Jain Thompson
March 2007
BORDEAUX, France (Reuters) - The mayor of a village in southwest France has threatened residents with severe punishment if they die, because there is no room left in the overcrowded cemetery to bury them. In an ordinance posted in the council offices, Mayor Gerard Lalanne told the 260 residents of the village of Sarpourenx that "all persons not having a plot in the cemetery and wishing to be buried in Sarpourenx are forbidden from dying in the parish." It added: "Offenders will be severely punished." The mayor said he was forced to take drastic action after an administrative court in the nearby town of Pau ruled in January that the acquisition of adjoining private land to extend the cemetery would not be justified. People always ask me, did I ever
Learn anything when I was a stripper? Yeah, I did. One man plus two beers
Equals Twenty Dollars. -- Anna Nicole Smith
the reality of unreality
Persistence I remember things
So I don’t have to remember, Placing memories in boxes, Erecting walls, Closing doors Than only I can unlock, Opening them only If I have a need. That way the past is there
-- Parents -- Family -- Dead presidents and senators -- Singers and poets -- Lovers and friends Gone but not forgotten,
Knowing I can call on them When we need to talk. Lisa Jain Thompson
March 2008 It is normal to want to ram his car
If he and his new girlfriend Have been spotted in it. -- Helen Lederer
For those who are looking
Jonesing for Henry
If I were mistress to a king, I am a naked foot walking in his chamber,
A whispered breath against his cheek, Soft lips that enfold around him gently, Moisture pooling in the small of his back As he thrusts himself upon me. Lisa Jain Thompson
March 2008 Iranian to pay 124,000-rose dowry The husband said he could only afford to give five roses a day
An Iranian court has ordered a man to give his wife the 124,000 roses that he promised in her dowry, after she filed a complaint to claim it, reports say. The woman said she was claiming the dowry because her "very stingy husband" would not even pay for a cup of coffee, according to the E'temad newspaper. The court has seized the man's flat until he produces all of the roses.
Under Iranian law, a woman can claim her dowry, or mahr, at any time during a marriage or when getting divorced. The gift becomes the property of the wife to do whatever she likes with. It is required in order for the marriage contract and the marriage itself to be valid. According to E'temad, the woman, identified as Hengameh, decided to claim her entire dowry of 124,000 red roses after 10 years of marriage to "punish her very stingy husband". "Shortly after marriage, I realised that Shahin was very cheap," she told the newspaper. "He even refused to pay for my coffee if we went to a cafe or restaurant." Shahin told the court he could only afford to give her five roses a day and complained that it was his wife's "billionaire friends who had put such ideas in her head". But the judge rejected Shahin's pleas and ordered his $64,000 (£33,000) flat to be confiscated until he has bought them all. A long-stemmed rose costs about $2 (£1.09) in the Iranian capital, Tehran.
It is common in Iran to offer gold coins or property as mahr. An Iranian man can end up in jail for dowry debts,  what lies ahead
Following Our Footsteps
The rippling of the interstate
Rustling in the distance, Chasing the And the bridges towards Waking Washington and every soul Who thinks he might be president. Today is like yesterday, The Republic stands
While would be Caesars strut and posture, Clinging to the hope that they can ascend To the chair where a handful of presidents Chose greatness over politics, eschewing Power and money for the greater good; A nation’s welfare over race and privilege, Believing that America must rise above Our immediate concerns and individual lives, That our Republic must rise undivided, With one voice and affirmation, that we, The People of the United States, Do solemnly pledge our lives to each other And our sacred honor to our nation, To our Democracy, and to all Mankind That someday the world will live as one. Lisa Jain Thompson
March 2008 They say it is better to be poor and happy
Than rich and miserable, But how about a compromise like Moderately rich and just moody? -- Diana, Princess of Wales
The four stages of the housing market are:
For Sale, For Rent, Foreclosure, and Up for Auction. time, time, time
The Day Before Saving Daylight
Chopper below the clouds low overhead Rumbling in the floor and the chair Where my body rattles in resonance. Gray, gray sky, gloomy, gloomy day,
Hidden sun waiting for the rain this afternoon While the pressure plays with my brain. A dismal swamp of a day, slowly passing,
A light stretched, barely visible morning That toys with my seasonal emotions. I have spent all the summer saved daylight
And am left with the dregs of late winter, Sediments of foul time that escape me. Lisa Jain Thompson March 2007  When my enemies stop hissing,
I shall know that I am slipping. -- Maria Callas
love, in passing
Last Car Passing
Hear that lonesome clacking of the rail cars
As the yard engines shuttle them into place, The As the echoing darkness slips slowly by. Have you ever seen a conductor waving
From the steps of the last car on a train, Have you ever been one of the children standing, Waiting for the next locomotive to roll past? Did you ever see a grown man weep
While he remembers his vanished tracks? A falling star crashing through the earth Burns less loudly than memory’s eroding tears. Sometimes I wonder where you are
Or if you cling to your dying breathe, I’ve never seen a winter’s night so long As my mind’s bittersweet self-reflections. The moon may disappear behind a cloud,
Sparrows mourn when leaves begin to fall, I will hold you fast, forever true and young, Where we live, in love, inside my heart. Lisa Jain Thompson March 2008   Copyright © Lisa Jain Thompson 1995-2008. Further distribution of this newsletter in its entirety is authorized. Email your letters and postcards or visit her contact page at the Starpoet website |
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