The weasly guy from “Mad Men” and
Demi Moore in drag?! Pass the cranberry sauce!
ThanksGIVing?
Here’s to my Mayflower descendants who
enslaved indigenous people.
Here’s to Wrong-Way Columbus, who
first allowed them to show how to grow food.
(Then he enslaved them.)
Here’s to Columbus Day, which
celebrates the schmuck above.
Of course, there’s always
another side of the Judas coin.
It’s a great day to spend with family,
gorging on food and getting tipsy.
It’s a great day to celebrate the
American version of football.
But this year, 2013, we have
a special treat in store:
Retail workers ripped from their
families to work on pre-Black Friday.
Come to think of it, just about
everything Thanksgiving is BS…
especially what they taught us in school,
that “the Pilgrims” (um, the Settlers)
and the “Indians” (who were here first)
dined together and had lots of fun.
Want to see fun? Take a trip to a local
reservation. And I don’t mean the casino…
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
At this, the 11th hour, I implore you, DON’T GO SHOPPING ON THANKSGIVING! It’s not fair to the employees. Of course, Lex and I will boycott all the Big Box stores putting this hokum over on America… but at least let the stores be empty on a national holiday. How about it?
And take a moment to pray for “American Indians,” whatever the hell that means. Just because they have casinos doesn’t mean squat – the guys at the top make all the money, after they pay off their Malaysian bakers for funding the building. And that takes years!
For ABC Wednesday, “T,” and “in the margins” at Poets United and Imaginary Garden with Real Toads. With hope, Amy
Sofia (anaphoric poem for a young soul)
Sofia’s sisters will write their symphonies
for the world in their world
Sofia’s song lies within, beautiful, sonorous,
hard to explain, yet unfailingly lovely…
filled with illusions and wonder
Sofia’s favorite pastime is looking in the mirror
God gazes back at her, through her eyes and
in her infectious smile; a face that is
a reflection of the face of God
Sofia’s sisters will have a different kind of freedom
Roaming the world, seeking their separate destinies
But she is the lucky one
Destiny has found her and
God holds her in strong arms
Sofia, your every breath is counted
and you will never be alone
Your name means wisdom and, though hidden,
it is real, a labyrinth that dwells deep and swells wide.
Sofia. Your witness is simply being; your song is of the soul.
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
I had written this poem for Sofia, the daughter of my friends Daniel and Joy, during a visit to San Antonio years ago, but it never saw the light of day until this blessed move to our new home next to our church. My posting will be sporadic, but I’ll read more than I post for a few days on breaks from unpacking. This is at dverse, Poets United, and the garden I have sorely missed, Imaginary Garden With Real Toads.
dverse asked for Anaphoric poems, which have repeated words or sounds. I decided to use the name which became a song for playtime: Sofia.
When we were visiting, Sofia, who had a difficult delivery and will never function in “our ways” past a young age, delighted when I played with her. The song was “So-FIIIIII-aaaaa…” followed by long, silly phrases:
So-FIIII-aaaaa sits on the floor and plays with her box of stuff
(giggles)
So-FIIII-aaaaa picks up the box and dumps all the stuff on the floor
(dump and giggle)
On and on through picking up plastic horses and puzzle pieces to dumping it out again. Hers is a pure existence, and the reason she has a happy life lies with her family. Danny and Joy are parents who, when faced with the birth of a child who would never learn to read or write, refused to lock her away. Her sisters, Veronica, Eva, and Carmen, love her for who she is, and Sofia is safe from caring when they pass her milestones; they are all equally loved by their parents and their larger family as individuals. This is a family of deep faith and a strong sense that they have been blessed by God with Sofia. My heart this day is with Daniel and Joy, with their able girls, and with that specially abled young woman, Sofia. Paz, y con mucho amor, Amy
TO ALL: Whatever your faith, I invite you to read this. You may follow a
different path, but it’s really all about living in love.
In Step With Jesus
(For Bob Gwynne and Monica Wahlberg, with love and thanks)
To be in step with Jesus…
Stop. Wait. Listen.
Allow Jesus to choose your stride.
It may be slower; it may take you
down by the riverside or
wash you in rainfall.
You may see yourself
offering a hand to one whom
you wouldn’t have touched
the week before.
To be in step with Jesus…
Stop. Wait. Listen.
Allow the Spirit inside.
Let your soul be enveloped
by the Divine Sofia, Wisdom.
You may see yourself
in sandals, sharing love,
feeding those in need, even
acting up in the
“Temples of Power.”
You will change.
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Yes, it’s my 666th post. No, this is not the first horse of the Apocalypse, nor do I believe in “the mark of the Beast,” and I’m not going there with any jokes, either (although 6/66 is when my friend Monica was born, so there you go, one happy coincidence, an early birthday present).
This poem was inspired and written entirely at Sunday morning’s praise and worship service, during which guest “sermonator” Rev. Bob Gwynne (an activist of many years; he and his jubilant wife, Jesse, are respected senior members of our church), gave an excellent sermon about being in step with Christ.
For Imaginary Garden With Real Toads’ Open Link Monday, and the Poetry Pantry at Poets United. Also, BIG ANNOUNCEMENT TOMORROW, SO STAY TUNED! (ribit croak gruggle) Peace to all, Amy
Let Your Heart Take the Reins
In Biblical times, the “heart”
was actually one’s gut.
To “know in one’s heart”
was to feel in the region
of the solar plexus the nexus
of thought and emotion,
an ocean of intuitive knowledge.
If you get that pain
in the pit of your stomach,
stop. Listen to your
better angels; let your heart
guide you, provide you with peace.
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Kim Nelson at Poets United’s Verse First wanted a poem, in fewer than 13 lines, about our passions. Mine do not include brevity, so this was a good challenge for me!
Interpreting the Bible to relate to modern-day times is a passion of mine. So many folks use the Bible, as my friend Ben recently wrote, as a weapon… slandering gay folks, denying poor women health care. All the things Jesus decried when he said, “Love your neighbor as yourself…” Loving God brings me closer to doing the right thing. It’s hard, having manic depression and PTSD, to find that quiet place, but the ache in the pit of my gut I always pay attention to! Peace, Amy
Pride and Pettiness (and the Gospel of Matthew)
There are in this world
people who gossip and
believe not in consequences
Care not of feelings
Worry not of redemption
I feel sorry for them
Living self-contained,
self-serving lives, not
penitent for own faults
Gossip is the stuff of
cowardice; direct talk is
the only right course.
If you love me, tell me
If you hate me, tell me
Don’t go behind my back
And remember, when you
point a finger at me, you
point three back at yourself
Matthew 18:15-16 says to
speak to the person directly
A tribute to righteous living
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Three Word Wednesday gave us Penitent, Tribute, and Believe; ABC Wednesday is up to P. Also at Poets United, where there is never any backbiting or pettiness, just poetry! Too many communities, not just Christian, are prone to gossip, to not speaking directly to the person they are mad at or have problems with. Just a reminder from The Word. Peace, Amy
The amazing Joseph Harker of Naming Constellations asked for a personal hymn (or hymns), starting with something we have never heard a hymn written about… it’s a long prompt, so check it out HERE. These are the fruits of my labors, my three hymns in the heart of a Sunday night. I will also post this on Tuesday at dverse Open Mic Night and at Poets United. Thanks again, Joseph. Peace, Amy
Hymn to Her
Trapped in the overgrown patch
called my garden. Titan prairie grasses
tickle the screens, engulf potted plants.
I, the prairie avenger, armed with
scissors, hacksaw, kneepads, and gloves
shape, tame, make symmetry of chaos
forgetting that grasses once ran wild here
long before my aim of a forced, polite posyland.
Blessed are those who walk in Her overgrown path.
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Shrine
This is my shrine
It’s wholly mine
A framed reproduction of Kinkaide’s kitschy two-story clapboard
in muted tones, Photoshopped with images of prostitutes. The
ice cream truck parked out front says “Gone Fishing”;
silhouetted against a shade, Mr. Softee is obviously hard.
This is my shrine
It’s wholly mine
This may seem odd for inclusion in my confusion of a
work space, but, with other talisman… a rainbow glass fish,
pads and pencils, Riley at seven – little hippie in Lennon glasses,
all these stir my imagination, invite the spirit in to dwell within
this sinner.
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Give Me But One Chance
Give me but one chance
to teach another to dance
To look upon others
not as “them” but as brothers
Give me a servant’s hands
fulfilling needs, not commands
Help me to hold close those
whose ribs I can feel ‘neath clothes
Keep me awake, aware
to go where others never dare
Keep me just off kilter
so I possess no societal filter
And thus remind all humankind
our common threads are the ties that bind
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
I missed church this week because I was down with the flu. So it’s only right that, I should post a revised version of a religious “food-for-thought” poem I wrote long ago.. Whether you agree or disagree, ALL comments are respected and appear unedited on this blog (unless you use the F word or something really tacky like that). Only hateful comments which are directed at OTHER bloggers will be deleted; hateful comments directed at me are fine, I don’t mind the heat and I love all haters (which just kills them!).
Also posted at Poets United, the poetic collective. Peace to all, Amy
ACCORDING TO SCRIPTURE
When confronted with yet another conundrum,
the umpteenth tease to ensnare the “troublemaker,”
the Learned Ones asked,
“Should we pay tax to Rome?”
Jesus replied, “Give to http:Caesar that which is Caesar’s;
give the rest to God.”
If we wiped “In God We Trust” off every coin,
all forms of currency,
would God be offended?
Cease to exist?
Wipe a soon-to-be-designation “sinful city” off the map?
(Those pastors never predict; they only proclaim)
“Under God” inserted in the Pledge in the 1950s
assuring all that we were not a Godless nation
(like those Commies in Russia)
Would God disappear from our lives should we
revise the pledge, restoring it to the original?
If the Word is written on our hearts
why do we need it minted as well?
What reassurance does it give the poor man
who inserts In God We Trust into a slot machine
hoping to stave off foreclosure?
God is our Creator, and genderless:
This is my personal belief, not a universal truth.
Do schoolchildren, reciting the Pledge by rote,
paying no particular attention to one word over another,
believe in God more because God’s name is in it?
No Godless person am I
nor spiteful
Just pondering what I read in my Bible today
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
With The Sunday Whirl, wordler-in-chief Brenda posed the words in bold – a baker’s dozen. Also, Sunday Scribblings wanted us to write on the word “Captivate.” These are both Sunday-based poems, the second being a haiku. Also posted at my poetic home away from home, Poets United.
FOR THE SUNDAY WHIRL
Sunday Praise Service
Hot coffee to stir the ominous ache in her weary bones.
She chooses an emerald empire-waist dress;
the illusion of a full front covers
the void of her shrinking frame.
Time to observe the celestial, to worship the Divine.
As her sandals flip, flop, flap into the sanctuary,
a kid jostles past her up the balcony stairs to sit with his mom.
She smiles, remembering her own scrambles up there;
the rhythm of life is upbeat and present
here in this church.
Church services are usually holy pantomime, but
not here. The sermon moves her – and the music?
It rocks like the ages!
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
““““““““““““““““““““
FOR SUNDAY SCRIBBLINGS
Televangelists Are Full Of Crap
Captivate
with delusions of riches,
Joel Osteen.
Captivate
with tales of earthly wealth,
Graham Junior.
Hold captive
those prisoners of Rapture,
who crave flight.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sharp Little Pencil 