tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73666592011-11-19T01:14:33.651-05:00Well, that sounds like it's got something to do with something!Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comBlogger1701100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-38905857876782992382011-11-17T23:44:00.006-05:002011-11-17T23:58:36.230-05:00

<!--[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]>

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-6651585719076521402010-12-20T22:34:00.001-05:002011-01-25T11:53:23.906-05:00

"There are only two types of women - goddesses and doormats."Pablo Picasso

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1168746088905383202010-12-02T22:40:00.000-05:002011-11-03T01:21:05.854-04:00

Music: Zorba the Greeck

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-26929609856025208802010-11-25T11:45:00.000-05:002011-01-25T11:53:50.093-05:00

My first Ghazal: The most ancient for form of poetry.I’m fascinated by the Ghazal and I have to admit, it has left me awestruck, just totally dazzled -- incensed! I had to write one. But first I had to really study this oldest form of poetry. What made me really understand the Ghazal was the website by Andy Weaver, titled “The Bastard Ghazal.” http://www.poetics.ca/poetics01/01weaver.html. This

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-8654722962662999252010-10-11T22:52:00.000-04:002011-01-25T11:54:13.819-05:00

The Catapult by LC JefferyI didn't fall out of love with you.I was catapulted.A cruel crosswind in the third round,a cool snap of a rubber band.I landed in an ice cube,where there was only room for one.You pecked on the side of the glass,pleading to come in,As you admired yourself in the mirrorsstrapped to the back of your hands.

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1102835204517792682010-09-12T02:04:00.000-04:002011-01-25T11:58:29.261-05:00

Hopeful© by LC JefferyHe sits there with that empty cup of coffeestuck to his hand like amber.His thoughts are pirates that run and pillagein places he would never go,as he a stares a holeright through the woman at the next tablethinking that if he stares hard enough,something like lovewill flow out of herlike sap,straight into his cup.

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1103128526519739202010-09-12T02:03:00.000-04:002011-01-25T12:02:41.090-05:00

right into the cup...

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1102835525674861062010-09-01T02:07:00.000-04:002011-01-25T12:00:05.183-05:00

© by LC JefferySometimes my day sounds likethe monstrous clangs and bangs of a backhoeshoving discarded rusty metal scrapsthrough a junkyard.Those are the nightsI crawl into the soft, silken tent of poetry,naked like the stars,and bathe in the sestina’s flickering flames,I wrap myself in silken stanzas,and make love to my favorite Troubadour...Words.

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1102989018287889702010-08-13T20:50:00.001-04:002011-01-25T12:06:52.912-05:00

Watching a Bubble

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1102985023087804212010-08-13T20:50:00.000-04:002011-01-25T12:06:00.859-05:00

© by LC JefferyWhere does old love go?Does it speed awaylike a stolen car?Or a shooting star?Does it go far?Like steam, does it evaporate?Like a virus, does it mutate?Or do we throw it awaylike garbage from Saturday?Is it swallowed and digested?Or, like a savings, invested?Does it slowly shrivel and die?Perhaps it popslike a bubble in the sky.Or maybe it just stops.

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-62625696144158809632010-08-03T01:07:00.001-04:002010-08-03T01:10:44.730-04:00

by LC JefferyThe world crackedAnd I got stuckOn the wrong side.Greece was there.And I was here.And between us,the abyss,Grew,Like a fat man.My arms shortened.My voice got lostPoseidon swallowed it upAnd spit out the siren’s song.America, The male Circe,Tried to turn me into a pig.But I had drunk Hermes’ Moly,Crete’s Tsikoudia,Corfu’s cumquats.The Caribbean, the Male Calypso,Tried to make me

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1116287924480550582010-07-16T19:57:00.001-04:002011-01-25T12:56:17.191-05:00

by LC JefferyThis time last yearI was a year olderand the hours curled like smokeand the flowers were dead and buriedunder winter's muck.And, like blades of grass,wearing tiny coats of ice,my heart stood erect, timelessand still.This time last yearthe ravens scoffed at meand cawed, "mistake!"when I walked the streets.And in my mindpin-sized explosions of doubtgave me headaches and tinglesand lit

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1087873134975418082010-07-13T19:54:00.000-04:002011-01-25T12:11:39.047-05:00

by LC JefferyBe still, Europe.I'm not finished with you yet.Let me kiss you while you breathe.Lie still,while I trace the edgesand the detailsof your curves.Don't be surprised, Europe,if I am lostin the aromaof your spicy smell.Let me hold my face close to yourswhile I caress you with my soul.And I will close my eyes andfeel you slowlysurrounding mewith your texture,your details,your scent.My

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-10074372173507203892010-01-03T00:17:00.000-05:002011-01-25T11:51:24.726-05:00

I wrote this poem to help foreign students learn silent letters in English. It's full of words with silent letters.Psychology of Silent Letters in a Foreign Caféby Lisa JefferyIn a loud coffee shop, I created my dictionary of silent letters.Crouching beneath muffled conversations of gossip about weekend soirees,my silent letters, like private benefactors, donated to the words, sophisticated them

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-77788751067409147642009-09-11T21:26:00.007-04:002009-09-11T22:00:53.368-04:00

A poem must not just tickle, it must grab your neck and strangle you; or it must kiss you passionately: hot, sweaty, and fall on the floor with you. Or it must wipe your tears with huge, wet kleenexes. Good poetry must change your life the instant you confront it; so much so, that you must revisit it again and again, just to taste it again, just to spit the pit of the olive again, and live those

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-66335672720098966672009-08-22T23:04:00.007-04:002009-10-01T00:45:18.062-04:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-65393375280150921222009-03-31T00:11:00.002-04:002010-02-11T12:13:09.386-05:00

March©by LC JefferyMarch doesn't carewhat we think, or if we’re ready for her.Like an advancing army,she arrives, like the Romans,ordering this, slaying that.ending this, discarding that.She’s named after Mars, the God of Warand it’s no wonder the old fighting Romansmade Mars (the fighting month) the first month of their year.“Let’s get it off to a proper start.”March rides in on her seven-headed

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-75724616591662289292009-01-04T23:51:00.000-05:002009-10-01T00:43:07.277-04:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-22663789304626067062008-10-06T22:26:00.001-04:002008-10-06T22:34:58.280-04:00

When we get tangled upin our problems,be still;God wants us to be stillso He can untanglethe knot.

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-45586348954681464632008-08-11T23:04:00.010-04:002008-08-28T01:33:03.957-04:00

August Knowsby LC JefferyWinter left no trace of itself on my summer soul,and August, fat August, finally,lies bronzed and relaxed, sprawled out on a sparkling beach,laughing at May.May... that naïve, eager month that bursts of hope and over-confidenceand bores us all with his fear to shedhis doubts and winter clothes.But May is soon to be outdone by June who is always so busy, dancing with

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-75860275120095254242008-07-12T21:51:00.003-04:002008-07-12T21:54:03.549-04:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-66436261682257813842008-05-12T23:09:00.002-04:002009-08-22T23:21:42.910-04:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-84219829663144105772008-03-22T02:30:00.000-04:002008-03-22T02:33:40.457-04:00

Mother, Joan and Me at my favorite Greek Restaurant

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-87755626758601519402008-03-11T02:08:00.019-04:002008-09-15T22:46:32.220-04:00

Upon Deciding to Give Up GreeceBy LC JefferyIt burns,as if oil fields were set on fire,eternal flames in the Labyrinth caverns of my heart.It twinkles,in my deepest sleep, like stars far apart,blazing in space, a million light years away.It chars,leaving truckloads of burnt coal in my soul,That I’m constantly having to clean, and haul away.It weeps,like a mother who has lost a son,a daughter who

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-45966318463103104182008-02-15T00:47:00.021-05:002008-02-22T22:28:19.984-05:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-83837115451707341812007-07-31T10:22:00.000-04:002007-12-03T21:34:44.183-05:00

To Celebrate Birthdays and Love. Peggy and Toby came from Germany. Spetses, Greece

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-14709600465487818142007-05-23T00:21:00.000-04:002007-07-31T16:42:59.520-04:00

Me and my cousin, Renee in Islamorada, Florida, May 2007

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-60980505730416826212007-04-23T23:24:00.000-04:002007-04-23T23:35:10.052-04:00

The Chihully Exhibit and Chocolate Festival at Fairchild Tropical Gardens

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-2571333489654437522007-03-02T19:35:00.000-05:002007-03-02T19:41:28.533-05:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-56833063130310068652007-03-01T23:30:00.000-05:002007-03-02T11:08:03.460-05:00

Last night the Chinese stock market fell out of bed.All the trends that had been born were dead.“It had to happen,” the government said“If we all invest, we’ll all end up in the red.”Their pajama-clad stock market rubbed it’s sore head.And a starving dragon was let out of its shed.And 6 billion people decided to make sure it was fed.Fat, lovely and willing, our hero bought a new bed,A new helmet,

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1172376633212492512007-02-24T23:09:00.000-05:002007-02-24T23:28:53.956-05:00

Lisa and Valentina

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1168747339649843302007-01-13T22:44:00.000-05:002007-03-21T01:23:55.639-04:00

This time for my friend Christine's Wedding in October, 2006

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1169835961004869152007-01-11T13:11:00.000-05:002007-02-15T00:27:52.996-05:00

The Pearl - The Miracle of Mistake ©By LC JefferyIt hurts to become a pearl.It all starts from a mistake.Being at the wrong place at the wrong time.A place where you are not supposed to be.You can’t relate and can’t get out.So you just have to watchas the muck gathers around you,and worse, it sticks to you.Before you know it, it starts to create an unwantedand unwelcomed armor,turning you into

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1087966522885835092007-01-11T12:55:00.000-05:002007-01-14T09:55:58.990-05:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1136943906784090342006-01-10T20:37:00.000-05:002006-01-10T20:48:14.050-05:00

Two Friends in Baghdad©by LC JefferyI have two friends in Baghdad. That means I have two friends in trouble.The smell of bombs keep them hiding. Loud noises startle them.They go into their soul to find peace and don’t find it.The armor is too thick. The truth too crusted with blood.I have two friends in Baghdad. That means I have two friends in a rut.The market is a wasps’ nest, seconds before

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1136944805047807622006-01-10T20:00:00.000-05:002006-01-10T21:04:24.406-05:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1136248910311071782006-01-02T19:34:00.000-05:002006-07-27T00:16:59.976-04:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1136254522191243992006-01-02T17:05:00.000-05:002006-01-03T00:53:29.720-05:00

"Antisthenes says that in a certain faraway land the cold is so intense that words freeze as soon as they are uttered, and after some time then thaw and become audible, so that words spoken in winter go unheard until the next summer!"- Plutarch, Moralia(I've posted this one before -- had to do it again because it is so funny. We don't have this problem in Florida! It's so warm we hear our words

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1135717779207011312005-12-27T16:09:00.001-05:002005-12-27T16:27:54.363-05:00

http://www.fathertimes.net/auldlangsyne.htm

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1135660364454737792005-12-26T22:53:00.000-05:002006-07-27T00:21:21.943-04:00

Friends, happiness, joy, cheer, good food, fun, and Christmas magic!

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1135323636037633332005-12-22T23:38:00.000-05:002005-12-23T02:52:25.323-05:00

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life. "A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy. " It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil -- he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego. The other is good -- he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness,

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1134931751687539192005-12-18T13:48:00.000-05:002005-12-18T14:38:17.503-05:00

I am a city encapsulated by walls,I am a spirit uncontained like the wind on the Kalahari.I am as abundant as sand. I am scarce as a pearl.I am thin as a reed. I am round and flat as a puddle.I am onyx, hard and black. I am dough, uncooked, white and raw.I am the leeward side of a mountain.I am molten lava of a volcano. I am cool, hard marble.I am a gas. I am shiny as gold.I am flesh and

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1134628106291887362005-12-17T15:26:00.000-05:002005-12-17T18:16:59.126-05:00

Featuring The Amazing Wonder Dog, Gliko.

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1134605054000061922005-12-14T18:43:00.001-05:002010-12-23T00:07:06.241-05:00

If I could wish myself away this ChristmasI would wish myself to Creteto the smell of tangerines and chestnuts roasting on the street,to the midnight incense of St. Sophiaand to brief glimpses of my tiny island Diaand the harbor lights of the old Venetian port,and the Morosini Fountain in the old Lion court.Oh Crete, My Iraklion, my Candia, the Noel of my soul,package my heart in a big,

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1133399148840860602005-11-30T19:16:00.000-05:002005-11-30T20:14:59.226-05:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1133141645987234732005-11-27T20:31:00.000-05:002005-11-27T20:34:05.996-05:00

by Emily DickinsonGod permit industrious angelsAfternoons to play.I met one, -- forgot my school-mates,All, for him, straightaway.God calls home the angels promptlyAt the setting sun;I missed mine.How dreary marbles,After playing the Crown!

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1132943421843988982005-11-25T13:23:00.000-05:002005-11-25T13:30:21.853-05:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1132001974615731512005-11-14T15:48:00.000-05:002005-12-15T00:48:31.663-05:00

A ghazal is an ancient Persian form of poetry, 5,000 years old, the oldest form of poetry in existence. I like the disunity of the ghazal, the way each couplet could be a stand-alone poem itself, yet the couplets are like a string of pearls connected by an invisible thread. The form features a repetitive word in the second line , and a rhyme prior. In the last couplet, the poet mentions herself

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1132089623326896862005-11-13T16:20:00.000-05:002005-12-15T00:49:00.020-05:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1131296787489303492005-11-06T12:15:00.000-05:002005-11-09T14:56:10.853-05:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1131296997007701232005-11-06T12:07:00.000-05:002005-11-06T12:17:58.093-05:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1131296698797585432005-11-06T12:02:00.000-05:002005-11-06T12:04:58.810-05:00

Boating in Key Largo!

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1130828524769519652005-11-01T02:00:00.000-05:002007-01-14T10:08:49.516-05:00

"I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw some things back."Maya Angelou

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1129989417661772882005-10-22T09:54:00.000-04:002005-11-14T16:10:59.543-05:00

The WashIt all comes out in the wash.All that dirt from the shirt that looked clean,all those words I heard about your high morals and character, all those women swimming and the cesspool of your secrecy,all those gemstones you pulled out of my pocket,to ensure you were my only jewel,all that crumpled-up comfort we knew,all those sweet morning hours shriveled like slugs in salt,all those maggots

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1129833279507724532005-10-20T14:32:00.000-04:002005-10-20T14:51:26.166-04:00

To be in Greece again, to be in Crete, the island of my life, the island of my soul, writing poetry, is the closest thing to heaven I know.

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1129832405984395822005-10-20T13:17:00.000-04:002005-10-20T14:22:02.630-04:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1133492844281890242005-10-19T22:04:00.000-04:002005-12-23T02:47:20.106-05:00

by LC JefferyI’m lazy today.Lazy as jasmine, too tiny to move,taking forever to bloom, lingering my scent.I’m lazy as stillnessfloating above mountains, watching centuriesas hikers scurry like fleas on the mountain’s flesh.I’m lazy as blue,laughing blue, everywhere blue – the sea, sky, space, ice blueBlue that wins the prize as Queen of the World, because she’s everywhere.I’m lazy as a memory of

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1134102836257160122005-10-08T23:19:00.000-04:002005-12-18T13:59:09.376-05:00

"I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat." -Edgar Allan Poe"If you want to write, keep cats."- Aldous Huxley"Cats are dangerous companions for writers because cat watching is a near-perfect method of writing avoidance." - Dan Greenburg"A catless writer is almost inconceivable. It's a perverse taste, really, since it would be easier to write with a herd of buffalo in the room than even one cat

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1132005007888617582005-09-23T16:48:00.000-04:002005-11-14T16:50:35.920-05:00

The Three Curly Haired Poets of Loutro

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1132003222071146662005-09-22T16:15:00.000-04:002005-11-14T16:48:15.710-05:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1127419987019958182005-09-22T16:06:00.000-04:002005-11-09T10:20:47.690-05:00

The graveyard for lost stanzaslies just beyond the Roman ruins of Loutro, Crete.The sentimental poets buried them in the ground,the drunk poets just threw theirs into the seawhere they were lost and might never be found.Here, on the path to Phonix, you might findthe legbone of a sestina,the jaw of a ghazal,a fingertip of a triolet,the crushed elbow of a villanelle.Years ago, someone stacked the

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1127419467399350092005-09-22T15:58:00.000-04:002005-09-22T16:04:27.403-04:00

From Loutro, CreteNo Pictures? No poetry? I had expected to post pictures and poetry on the Lisa-isms site, to blog the poetry workshop on Loutro on the island of Crete. But Loutro is even more remote than I expected. There is one computer in the village and I'm unable to post pictures at this time. Poetry writing time is limited, because it's not easy to get to the computer. So for the

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1132003921958039902005-09-21T16:22:00.000-04:002005-11-14T21:12:53.760-05:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1129832098331478552005-09-21T14:11:00.000-04:002005-12-15T01:32:20.253-05:00

(A Loutro Crete Poem)Under the lakes of sleep, our thoughts collide.From a million miles away you said you dreamt of meembracing you in slow motion,my black curls and white dress enveloped youfor a stretched-out momentand then I was gone.I returned to my dream, diving deep into the lake of my own sleep,where I found you..plucking miracles from the lake floorand handing me bouquets of moments we

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1132004794303872922005-09-19T16:32:00.000-04:002005-11-14T21:16:00.790-05:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1126826040149330272005-09-15T19:14:00.000-04:002005-09-15T19:14:00.150-04:00

Zurich is not a bad place to have an 11 hour layover! Next stop.... Greece! 

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1126825813112096072005-09-15T19:10:00.000-04:002005-09-15T19:10:13.113-04:00

My favorite teddy bear in Zurich was on a little cobble-stone alleyway, looking at himself in the mirror! 

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1126825667563110712005-09-15T19:07:00.000-04:002005-09-15T19:07:47.566-04:00

Here's me with my favorite, dressed just like me, sans hat! 

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1126825606912114852005-09-15T19:06:00.000-04:002005-09-15T19:06:46.916-04:00

There are giant teddybears all over Zurich. Every business in town is decorating their own teddy bear on the streets, at the airport, on the lake... Here I am with a Miami-style teddy. 

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1126825349150579072005-09-15T19:02:00.000-04:002005-09-15T19:02:29.200-04:00

Switzerland! Here I am on a boat in Zurich, and 11-hour layover on my way to Greece, for another Poetry workshop, this time on the island of Crete. 

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1096515035257165882005-08-22T23:27:00.000-04:002005-08-23T02:20:38.476-04:00

Poetry©By LC JefferyPoor little Poetry,that lonely orphan in my soul.Constantly begging, "feed me, clothe me, talk to me," she says.How can I turn away eyes like that?

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1109453298085998862005-08-20T16:21:00.000-04:002005-08-23T02:18:38.406-04:00

Lots of people asked me about my favorite poetry form, the ancient Persian Ghazal. So here are the links of previous writing about Ghazals....http://thoselisa-isms.blogspot.com/2004/07/having-fun-with-ghazals.htmlhttp://thoselisa-isms.blogspot.com/2004/07/ghazal-roulette.html

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1118376985862671832005-06-10T00:13:00.000-04:002005-06-10T00:16:25.866-04:00

Liquid© by LC JefferyOne look at youand I melt like butter in the sun.Slowly, tenderly, I acquiesce.You touch mewith only the tips of your long fingersand all my senses liquiesceinto to one long, warm, endless, lake-like word... Yes.

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1118376721876212492005-06-10T00:12:00.000-04:002005-06-10T00:12:01.930-04:00

Lake 

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1116469265589681692005-05-18T22:13:00.000-04:002005-06-01T23:30:56.936-04:00

by LC JefferyHe was gripped with memory when he saw the girl.She was a child, rolling blue marbles on the street, no older than two or three,wearing a white dress tied with ribbons.He’d seen all those things in another place.She smiled. He was chilled. He knew those eyes.He was haunted all his life by those eyes.He’d seen them in his dreams of an older girlwho was always reading, always losing

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1093493141985970762005-05-16T20:04:00.000-04:002005-05-16T20:02:25.766-04:00

Bubblesby Carl SandburgTwo bubbles found they had rainbows on their curves.The flickered out saying:"It was worth being a bubble, just to have held thatrainbow thirty seconds."

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1115531245323408672005-05-08T01:46:00.000-04:002005-05-08T01:47:25.326-04:00

by LC JefferyWindowless roomsin a mansionin a windy fieldhold my papery thoughtsof that early spring day.No hands are thereto crumple them,no flames burn thereto turn them first to brown,then black, then to ash.There’s no sunlight thereto yellow them,no flood to soak them,no fingers to rip them to pieceslike I did your photograph.They sit in darkness,in stillness,those papery thoughts.No

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1115531011958478242005-05-08T01:42:00.000-04:002005-05-16T18:44:58.876-04:00

Ripe Bananas ©by LC JefferyThank God the bananas were ripewhen I succeeded in luring you to my home,trying to convince you to stay with me in my paradise.The bananas said, with grace, all the things I wanted to give you.“They are sweeter than most,” I said, with certainty.“I liked that banana,” you said, over the phone, days later and miles away,when the snow was falling like flakes of time that

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1103339477955905672005-02-26T22:08:00.000-05:002005-05-18T22:42:36.750-04:00

"Antiphanes said merrily that in a certain city,the cold was so intense that words were frozen as soon as spoken, but that after some time, they thawed and became audible; so that words spoken in winter were articulated next summer."Plutarch (circa 45 - 125 A.D.)Priest of the Delphic Oracle

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1106117387828442772005-01-19T01:47:00.000-05:002005-01-19T01:52:20.290-05:00

by LC Jeffery Fallen thoughts of you splash like rain against my soul, the earth which drinks them in and recycles them into real stuff, living life: plants, flowers, new trees, a community of crunchy green grasses that provide a tasty treat for the wild horses that run free in my mind. So, though I am living a life without you, I am grateful for each little splash thought of you that soaked

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1093017688573347962004-12-20T12:01:00.000-05:002007-01-13T16:55:31.203-05:00

Back in Jamaica... Teaching on WeekendsHere's Lisa at the hotel, recruited (against her will)to be the judge of the men's "Best Body" contest.Pictured here with the winners -- It was a tie!!!!

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1103338472810266252004-12-17T21:47:00.000-05:002004-12-17T21:54:32.810-05:00

When asked why he writes poetry... I fell in love — that is the only expression I can think of — at once, and am still at the mercy of words, though sometimes now, knowing a little of their behavior very well, I think I can influence them slightly and have even learned to beat them now and then, which they appear to enjoy. — Dylan Thomas, Welsh poet, short-story writer, and playwright, "Poetic

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1102989035976059362004-12-13T20:52:00.000-05:002004-12-13T20:53:07.553-05:00

Bubble in the sky

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1102992586668844622004-12-13T20:49:00.000-05:002004-12-15T10:26:45.703-05:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1091524615850913712004-11-15T05:11:00.000-05:002004-11-20T16:39:44.140-05:00

Hey! One of My Poems Took On a Life of its Own! My Ghazal, "Ghazal Roullette" -- the poem that was inspired by Bill Clinton's Speech was reported on Audio Bloggling News! Audio Blogging News -- Harold Gilchrist's latest audio post findings and personal thoughts about audioblogging. The Poem was also chosen for publication in the Winter 2004 issue of Shanendoah The Washington and Lee University

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1099109165988515152004-10-30T00:06:00.000-04:002004-10-30T00:06:05.986-04:00

Honk! 

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1095954949903698252004-09-23T11:53:00.000-04:002004-09-23T11:57:28.590-04:00

"Life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting "holy s--t, what a ride!" Live Life to It's Fullest! Anonymous (It's anonymous, but a good friend sent it to me in an email!)

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1095911605344200342004-09-22T23:53:00.000-04:002007-01-13T16:33:36.446-05:00

Lisa reading her poems from a rooftop in Greece...

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1095652527940454192004-09-19T23:55:00.000-04:002004-09-20T01:01:19.043-04:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1095650767927145702004-09-19T23:23:00.000-04:002004-09-19T23:46:08.266-04:00

Being American in 2004 by LC Jeffery The gypsies of my heart waver like restless palms, like flickering flames, in this hurricane of the unknown century of war. The Eskimos toss my thoughts high on blankets held tightly by villagers, old and wrinkled as the mountains, and young as snow fallen on tomorrow. All my Aborigines have decided to take a Walkabout away from reality, wearing bare feet,

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1095447404778995002004-09-17T14:56:00.000-04:002004-09-17T14:56:44.776-04:00

Some hurricane Ivan damage, emailed to me by a friend in Jamaica 

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1095309986695988782004-09-16T01:46:00.000-04:002007-01-14T10:10:08.206-05:00

Thank God Jamaica Survived Hurricane Ivan!

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1095141018560146132004-09-14T01:50:00.000-04:002004-09-14T01:54:03.836-04:00

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1101002997675689362004-09-13T17:14:00.000-04:002004-12-15T11:05:37.396-05:00

Home with Valentina wearing my favorite Mexican clothes...

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1095110031950427362004-09-13T17:00:00.000-04:002004-09-14T01:18:07.363-04:00

© September Whispers by LC Jeffery The hot September whispers in unknown voices of things not yet come to pass of things we do not understand and don’t want to know or want to know with all our soul. But we strain to decipher these whispers, trying to make out what they are saying, like the flapping of the wings of a butterfly, or a fleeting dove, or a helicopter in the distance, not really

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1092981219178037622004-08-25T14:40:00.000-04:002004-08-25T02:58:06.166-04:00

"Poetry is a way of taking life by the throat." Robert Frost (1874–1963), U.S. poet. Quoted in: Elizabeth S. Sergeant, Robert Frost: The Trial by Existence, ch. 18 (1960). "When in public poetry should take off its clothes and wave to the nearest person in sight; it should be seen in the company of thieves and lovers rather than that of journalists and publishers." Brian Patten (b. 1946),

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1093223730166571572004-08-22T21:21:00.000-04:002004-08-22T21:22:38.743-04:00

Lisa and Valentina

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1093224063790364682004-08-22T21:19:00.000-04:002004-08-22T21:22:16.160-04:00

by LC Jeffery You’re not supposed to pull out your feathers. And you’re not supposed to pull at my pen when I’m writing poetry. You’re not supposed to tease the cat. And you’re not supposed to make kaka when you’re riding on top of my head. And you’re not supposed to destroy an apple without eating it. Or throw spaghetti at the dog. Or scream and squawk when I leave the room. But I suppose

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1092678025104094352004-08-16T13:37:00.000-04:002004-08-20T02:06:30.806-04:00

August Knows© by LC Jeffery Winter left no trace of itself on my summer soul, and August, Fat August, finally, lies bronzed and relaxed, sprawled out on a sparkling beach, laughing at May. Oh, May... that naïve, eager month that bursts of hope and over-confidence and bores us all with his fear to shed his winter clothes. But May is soon to be outdone by June who is always so busy, dancing with

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366659.post-1091814726372917942004-08-06T13:45:00.000-04:002004-09-13T18:23:54.966-04:00

SOUTH FLORIDA'S INDIE SPOTLIGHT Writer spotlight Lisa Jeffery Check out the first edition of our local artist spotlights, featuring writer and professor Lisa Jeffery. Stay tuned for upcoming spotlights. BY VIVIANA BATISTA Click on: http://www.miami.com/mld/miamiherald/entertainment/books/9337292.htm?1c

Lisa Jefferyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17520527165911384779noreply@blogger.com