saturday in the rain

the war goes on in Iraq and Afghanistan
tens of the thousands are dying in Burma
Hezbollah has seized control of Beirut

The President is marrying off his daughter in Crawford

I am going for a pedicure

My dog is taking antibiotics for Lyme Disease

Life goes on and on and on

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

we're off

 

 

 

Midnight at the Well

 

 

Several kids down the road,
I’m not as young as I used to be,
My girlish figure, such as it was,
Has joined memories of Santa Clause
And pastel colored eggs
As victims of life’s headstrong passage.

 

Imagining myself at ninety
Becomes easier with each week and month,
One hundred twenty still seems quite distant
But neither as far or as improbable as it once did
When the main goals of my brief existence
Were getting a driver’s license and buying alcohol.

 

Another time, another place,
I will fondly be looking back on this,
Wishing I were as young as I am today,
-- My body as limber, my voice as strong,
With years and decades still ahead --
Gazing fore and aft down the timeline.

 

 

Lisa Jain Thompson
May 2008

 

 

 

 

 

 

of kings, their gods and lovers

 

 

 

 

 

 

Would Henry have come
To my bedroom knocking,
Asking for my religion
And my body,

 

I would have given him one
­­-- A king rules over all –
But denied him that
He wanted most.

 

 

Lisa Jain Thompson
May 2008

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

into the world once more 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We should open the gate and go,
Go to the village, have a mug of ale,
A chunk of aged gouda, sour dough bread,
And maybe a bowl of roasted chestnuts
Still warm from the stove.

 

Or you could leave me here
And I could make you fresh enchiladas
Stuffed with pork and onions and aromatic spices,
A sliver of Serrano peppers fired over a grill,
And have dinner ready when you return.

 

Then again, we could both go to Kyber Pass,
Have some Afghan, puzzle the men
That two gringo women, out alone together.
Without male guidance or supervision,
Are comfortable with their menu.

 

 

 

Lisa Jain Thompson
May 2008

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

vaguely will 

 

 

 

 

 

Love that is not missed is not love,
Separation that is without pain
Gives lie to love’s protestation.

 

I would tear these mountains down
If I thought it would bring us closer,
Straighten the track between there and here
To connect us with high speed rail.

 

Time plays against us,
Twisting what we both know to be true;
Another world, another life,
Love would best time,
Joining us heart to heart,
Winning all.

 

 

Lisa Jain Thompson
May 2008

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A group called the Presidential Memorial Commission of San Francisco has launched a ballot initiative that would rename a city sewage treatment plant the "George W. Bush Sewage Plant."

 

A petition is being circulated that would put the measure up for a vote in November. If it passes, it will rename the city's Oceanside Treatment Plant for the 43rd president of the United States.

 

Virginia-born activist and ordained minister John Rinaldi, a co-sponsor of the petition who ran unsuccessfully for mayor last year under his nickname "Chicken John," said the initiative would turn "every toilet in San Francisco into basically a shrine for George W. Bush and all his great achievements in his eight years as our commander in chief."

 

Rinaldi — flush with pride about the idea — said renaming the plant is "the highest honor available to us."

 

Organizers have collected around 1,100 of the more than 10,000 signatures needed to get the measure on the ballot in November. And while local Republicans call the effort a waste of time and money, they also say it has a good chance of winning if it gets on the ballot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-- Simone Well

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

looking back

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The first day I was a poet,
I was probably six – months that is --
The composer of a lyrical ode to motherhood
Constructed from single syllable words
Tied to a rhythmic framework
As I got in touch with my inner infant
And the inherent complications
Of the Ich und Du relationship.

 

My style has become more sophisticated
Since then – one would hope –
But my poems are no less heartfelt,
Even if the emotions find themselves
Draped in fine university gowns
Instead of wet diapers.

 

 

Lisa Jain Thompson
May 2008

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

sneezing and hayfevered, I conquer the world 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dead, I am little use to myself
As my atoms scatter to star and planet,
Little use to evolution and poetry,
My creativity desiccated and vanished,
Ripped from me by Life’s dedication to death.

 

Alive, there is a chance
I might still find meaning
In the remnants of my existence,
The moments of clarity
When I am one and not coughing.

 

 

 

Lisa Jain Thompson
May 2008

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

evolution

 

 

 

 

 

 

Crash, burn, and reboot,
If only we could reset
With our knowledge intact
And hope not grown cynical.

 

All those wondrous worlds
We could bravely learn,
Gilding our limited timeline
With mankind’s length and breadth.

 

Strong bodies, stronger minds,
Over and over again
Until, free of death, time’s passing
Sets us apart from Man.

Lisa Jain Thompson
May 2008

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the return of starpoet 

 

 

 

 

 

I chase bright shiny objects
Across vast wasteland
Devoid of grass or treelines;

 

Run the rim of the galactic edge
To gaze up the emptiness
Between the stars;

 

Watch time slow until space stops
And light withdraws
Behind dark barriers;

 

Across all of this I race
To capture my comet’s brief glory
And plunge headlong into the furnace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

here at last

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

Outside, this body ages,
Knees and elbows complain,
Eyes grow baggy and hair grows gray.

 

I am a passenger
On an aging starship
Whose inertial-less drive
Has begun to drift,
Whose endless recycling
Shows signs of eventual failure,
Whose air has a stale and ancient flavor
That bodes not well for lengthy operations.

 

The kernel still runs true and good,
Even as sensors lag and no longer meet
Peak performance specifications;

 

I still call a good game, but, alas,
A world class fastball now sometimes
Finds me wanting.

 

 

Lisa Jain Thompson
May 2008