Bittersweet days and
Days spent on park benches
tethered to their lives
Wings pinned down by convention
Nights in her convent
the room of her own:
Smoke, coffee, tension
The quill stung with her blood
No control and again
voices voices voices
No rest, no cure
No choice, save the obvious
Stop the voices
Condemn them to
© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Imaginary Garden With Real Toads’ Mama Zen gave us a challenge: Write about Virginia Woolf. I have not been posting much lately, but this was inspiring to the nth degree. Thanks, Mama, I knew you could raise me from my slumber! Peace, Amy
May 6, 2014 at 2:51 pm
Wow Amy, you knocked that prompt outta the park! You really know how to reach under the skin and tap that emotional nerve–use just the righ words to make me feel her despair
May 6, 2014 at 8:31 pm
This truly is a remarkable piece of work Amy. Wonderful.
Sherry Blue Sky
May 6, 2014 at 9:06 pm
Fantastic capture of the demons, the voices. Reminds me of the movie The Hours. You nailed this one, kiddo!
May 7, 2014 at 12:10 am
What an atmosphere! You have really penetrated her consciousness.
May 7, 2014 at 2:03 am
A dark, poignant yet beautiful tribute to Virginia – such feeling…
May 7, 2014 at 2:26 am
Welcome back. I’ve missed your beautiful words.
May 7, 2014 at 4:51 am
I love you, too.
May 7, 2014 at 6:41 am
You knocked it sweet! Amelita! Such a wonderful tribute with words so apt. Great seeing you back!
May 7, 2014 at 7:16 am
As beautiful as the woman herself Amy..Such a pity that voices are both a blessing and a curse..maybe rather than off and on the best we can hope for is loud or quiet x
May 7, 2014 at 7:52 am
hey you….smiles…hope you are doing well…
this is a rather tortured life….haunted….the voices
pushing you on….
May 7, 2014 at 8:52 am
This speaks of pain and desperation. You definitely captured that.