StarPoet Newsletter Vol. XIII, No. XX

I knew her in brief glimpses,
The grandmother of my girlfriend,
Met her at most a half dozen times,
Yet she treated me as one of hers,
Reminding me of my long dead grandparents,
Bringing me back to family,
My deep need for connection
And the touch of humanity.

Outside the Pentagon,
Security is out in force,
A medical emergency,
A body on a gurney,
Medic applying CPR as they
Roll him to the ambulance.

As it doesn't seem to be my body,
I continue down the escalator
To the Blue Line where a
Carefully spoken garbled voice
Announces the emergency is over
And the trains will resume shortly.

Rumors of rain in the air this morning
Drifting in from the midlands,
Our gentle rain is their violent tornado,
Our drought and allergy relief,
The destruction of their homes.

For every action there is an impact,
What is good for you and yours
May turn out quite bad for others;
As they say, there are no free lunches,
We live or die by skill and chance.

— Lisa Jain Thompson (May 2012)

I'm reasonably certain we told them
To stay away from the strip clubs,
Avoid the legal prostitutes,
And never, never be caught
With a woman in your room.

We're dealing with geographical bachelors
However, in the moment and out on their own
With only the wisdom of the pack to guide them,
That they may represent America holds little concern,
Ancient needs take precedence over all.

The whole world has gone to earthquake and tornadoes,
The polar ice is boiling slowly away,
The hills are alive with panther and coyote,
Forest is afire devouring the landslide,
Today is the first day of the last day of many;
Please bring me some water somebody
Someday before a hurricane drowns me.

A poet is a time machine
Moving forward a day at a time
While struggling to maintain connected,
Poet by poet, with all
The possibilities of the past.

I am she and she is she
And He is one of many;
Of all the poems in all the world,
We build upon each other's skill,
And steal only from the best.

The red breasted avian dinosaur,
Having return with warm weather,
Walks and hops his way across
The newly leafed green hosta,
Searching for worms and seeds.
T-Rex would not be amused,
But then T-Rex are all quite dead
And no longer have a vote.

Confrontation with Cole

The Kid don't flinch,
Stares you in the face,
Dares you try and sneak
Your best fastball by him,
Mano e mano, just you and him,
With only the filled stadium
And the nation watching;
If I were a betting poet,
I'd place my money on The Kid.