Amy Barlow Liberatore… stories of lost years, wild times, mental variety, faith, and lots of jazz

Category Archives: Artists


Scherzo (acrylic poured on canvas) by Suzanne LaFleur, used by permission of artist

Awash

Sprawling surface awaits her first pour
Thirsty for colors to caress
Thick acrylic syrup on parched canvas

Today is a lively melange
Cobalt and crimson, a bit of honey
In her mind, they crackle with life

Red tastes of ripest berries…
That lovely boulangerie last fall
as she lounged by the Seine

Blue, that glass sculpture, sheer perfection
She spent an hour gazing at the world
through its evening light

To be inside her head as she creates…

She is Artiste (Personified)
Effortless, this, while others bend over backwards to
pursue The Image

Her chiffon scarf danced between us
as we glided arm in arm down Julia Street
searching for abstracts, finding
last-minute Basquiats
Too much art, not enough time

New Yorker and European
by taste and by temperament
Awards are nice
but she thrives among others
who, too, hold art as sacred

Glamorous
Glittering
Glorious
Suzanne the Abstract

(c) 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

Suzanne LaFleur (yes, do click and see her work!) is another force of nature I met during my stay in New Orleans. She is an award-winning artist specializing in abstract art (like I said, click the link!), a classy-as-hell dame, and possesses that extra oomph one needs to succeed in the arts. I know we will stay in touch, and I look forward to seeing her continue to blossom.  I am linking this to ABC Wednesday for X (X-quisite!) and to the sidebar at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads.

Folks, I regret not posting this sooner and perusing your blogs, but the Perfect Storm of computer changeover, malware on new computer, and That Old Gray Magic That I Know So Well (winter depression) converged and quite blew me out to sea.

Better days are coming.  I look at Suzanne’s art, all your blogs, and know smoother seas are ahead.  Peace, Amy


Living With It

I live with manic depression
My constant companion
Reflecting my moods,
flexible in social situations
Always ready for conversations

At night, as I lie in fetal position,
it spoons my spine
It dances in the rain with me; it’s
my partner trolling homeless venues

People say my brain ain’t right
I say, “Wrong”
I see things wide awake they
cannot conjure in dreams
Hear music of another world while
their ears are stuck in this one

Feel the breeze blowing
through my soul, sweet and
filled with love.

If all that’s wrong, well,
like the song says,
I don’t wanna be “right”

© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

‘Bipolar’ sounds like you’re either up or down. It can be that way, but I prefer the term manic depression, rooted in depression with frequent upswings in energy when left untreated. Yet here I am, with proper treatment, claiming the best part – that “other-mindedness” of which I often write. I feel God has blessed me (God can be quirky), and I hope my gratitude is reflected in this poem. For Imaginary Garden With Real Toads’ Open Link Monday.

Peace, Amy



Image by L. Diane Wolfe, used by permission of the artist

Edgy

In the left corner
Invisible
I
maneuver this heady circumference

Rough and jagged as
I
and just as blue
Stepping lightly, lest

I
fall into the bowl
scratching again with nails
bloody from the task

See the marks from
years past
No one else here so
I

continue my inchworming
Whoops! that damned crag
I
hit it last time around

Slipdip and down
I
go, clawing my way to the top
like a silicone starlet

There is no end to this
circumspect circumnavigation
I
am doomed, Sisyphus in ceramic

© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads’ Ella interview L. Diane Wolfe, a photographer whose work has been evolving for over 23 years; Ella found her on deviantart.com. Diane graciously offered the Toads some of her pieces to use as inspiration for poetry.

Also “in the margin” at Poets United, my other outlet!  Peace, Amy


Parking Lot

The Golden Arches aglow tonight
Aglow every night as
teens collect, connect

Giggles, yo mama jokes
A squeal, somebody got tickled
Waitin’ for Bruno to get off shift

Scent of sensamilla
snakes through blades of my fan
I peek out; their shadows pass the joint around

Outside, they pack into someone’s car
squeal out of the lot in a cloud of exhaust
leaving a trickle of oil and a trail of fun

© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

This is for dverse, “Meeting the Bar.” Claudia asked us to write as though we were Impressionists, with quick brush strokes and hints of lighting. My inspiration was the early work of Edward Hopper, who is not known as an impressionist but had a brief foray into the style with such works as “Soir Bleu.” He is simply my favorite artist, and the humanity of his work informs my eavesdropping on this group of kids last night. Also at my poetic canvas, Poets United!


Longing Becomes Art (also for Riley)

Longing becomes art.
Art becomes enjoyment.
Enjoyment becomes shows.
Shows become employment.

Employment because aaaargh!
Aaaargh becomes strain.
Strain becomes I Need A Vacation
For My Addled Brain.

Brain senses loss.
Loss becomes lack.
Lack of inspiration.
Inspiration slack.

Slacking, she wonders,
where did it start?
Time gives her longing.
Longing becomes art.

© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Poetic Bloomings asked us to take the last line from one of our old poems and use it as a springboard for a new work. The first line is from “Artistic,” about my daughter, Riley. The final line was, “Longing becomes art.” To see the original poem, head to this link, https://sharplittlepencil.com/2011/11/10/artistic-for-riley/