Writer’s Island wanted Celebration poems. This one is lighter of heart than my last… guess who I am?


I started off so fulsome
carefully dressed in white
that clung to my body
like Travolta’s ice cream suit.

OW! That burns,
but I am comforted by kisses
lips caressing me,
I am passed from friend to friend.

I’m the life of the party.
Aglow, the star of the show,
as the lava lamp flows,
bloop… bloop… bloop…

Minutes later, spent.
They’ve used me until I’m
a scrap of my former self
Now, the final indignity.
Out comes the roach clip
to pierce my remains.

© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

Previously published at Poetic Asides