Two diverse poems; one brief, one a story that happened long ago. The first is for a prompt for Six Word Saturday, a challenge to my tendency to writeeverycompletemomentexactlyasithappenedinfullmissingnodetails. The second, for Poets United’s Poetry Pantry, a sweet memory of a sweet friend and me, a moment in time I will never forget. Peace, Amy

The End

Only get one death: Die trying.

© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Adapted from earlier poem in “Dance Groove Funhouse” for Six Word Saturday


Carnegie Hall, 1979

Star and her Satellite
emerge from a cab and
slip through the back door
of the hallowed hall

Tiptoeing past the massive set
being rolled into place by
Popeye-armed stagehands
who sweat for their wages

A page to be turned, this.
Billie bluesed here…
Her voice lingers,
embedded in the polished railings

Judy summoned songs
from the soles of ruby slippers
Her brilliance is burnished
into every column and niche

Now, no longer Star and Satellite,
for this brief moment, we are
simply giddy young singers
eager to trod the boards

Holding hands, the thrill
a vibrating current
running between us,
we pull back the curtain and

step onto the stage of
Carnegie’s great legacy,
the robber baron who bequeathed
this jewel to the masses

Looking up, a million stars
as lights twinkle dimly,
rimming balcony
after tiered balcony

“It’s like…” I struggle for words
to describe this moment.
“It’s like standing inside
a giant wedding cake.”

She grins. She’s headlining,
and I’m only singing backup
Yet, at this sublime moment,
we’re simply two starstruck girls

basking in a pinspot of destiny fulfilled

© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For dverse (yes, I really do talk this way) and Poets United.