L’artiste
Who knew
a silent flick
would capture our hearts so completely?
Mon Dieu!
The French sure click
The characters captivate sweetly
Dog star
Jack Russell bred
who leapt off the screen with this talent
By far
Critics all said
Our Uggie is smart, cute, and gallant
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For dverse Open Mic Night and my beloved Poetry Pantry at Poets United. Day 17 of Poem a Day.
This is for Beth, because I know how much she loves Jack Russell terriers.
I’ve changed my blog settings so now, all comments are approved. The backlog was immense and guilt was clouding my creativity. (I’m Black Irish, so that kind of guilt is quite weighty!) I will attempt to figure out how to respond to your comments later… but right now, the burden of guilt lifted from my shoulders, I shall post. Peace, Amy
GUMM… AND GUMMER (A Suite in Two Movements)
I. Frances Gumm
Child stardom thrust upon her
by mother’s demand
Couldn’t navigate a ship
she didn’t command
Crinkles, cramps, crevices
of age came too soon
The voice we all loved:
Judy’s sad, silent tune
II. Mrs. Gummer
You know her
or you feel like you do
That crinkle in her smile
The creases framing her sparkling eyes
She’s a survivor
Bucking the demand that actresses be
plump only in the lips and
possess a Stepford-smooth forehead
She will continue to navigate
the Hollywood torrents with grace,
and if awards come too, that’s fine.
What matters to her is the work.
What matters to her more is family.
Marvelous Meryl Streep!
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For Three Word Wednesday (Crinkle, Demand, Navigate) and ABC Wednesday, brought to you by the letter “G.” Also at my poetic lair, Poets United.
This is for Sunday Scribblings, which gave the prompt word, “Hitch.” Also at Poets United, my poetic home-away-from-home. Enjoy, movie buffs! Amy
HITCH
Close-up, sloooowly, Grace leans in
and Jimmy Stewart wakes to a kiss.
Raymond Buff commits a sin,
but Grace and James still find their bliss.
Tippi Hendren, without words,
the schoolkids must deliver:
Running from the pecking birds
to a house where they all shiver.
Wartime Cummings, Saboteur?
Joel McCrea, war correspondent.
Ingrid, a provocateur,
leaves Claude Raines despondent.
And how can we forget the sight
of Janet Leigh’s ill-fated shower:
Black and white blood, one stark fright.
Tony Perkins’ finest hour.
When the planes swooped o’er the grain
Hitch made Cary Grant look tough.
We won’t see Hitchcock’s like again…
but Tarantino steals his stuff.
Alfred Hitchcock, Lord of Thrills,
his wife an aide in everything,
he still brings us stellar chills.
Screw “no Oscar,” Hitch is king.
This time of year, we always pull out our copy of “Meet John Doe” with Gary Cooper and Barbara Stanwyck, as well as Barbara Stanwyck’s oft-missed classic, “Christmas in Connecticut.” She is one of my angels on the tree – with just enough “li’l devil” to spice things up!
BALL OF FIRE (Barbara Stanwyck)
She started off in Brooklyn
Ruby Stevens was her name
Petite, brown-eyed, brunette, lithe
She was destined for fame
First it was those small parts
The best friend or the maid
Then they saw beneath the sheen
there lay a bright-edged blade
Some years further down the road
Changed her style, her dress, her spiels
Stood tall to kiss Gary Cooper
Seven books beneath her heels
Throughout the years she played ’em all
from tough-as-nails jive dancer
to executive and old West rancher
to cute and sly romancer
But the role of hers I love the most
was never shown on screens:
Simply being Barbara Stanwyck
playing cards with the boys ‘tween scenes
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sunday Scribblings asked us to write on the theme, ‘Friction.’ You can tell I’ve had too much coffee today. Enjoy!
FILM FILLY’S FRACTIOUS FRICTION
Feeling friendly,
phoned Fiona Fleshpot.
Faded fashion filly
facing failed flick – fetid flop.
FLASH! (flotsam for females)
fancied former, firmer,
flexible, “fine” Fiona.
Furnished factoids.
Fix festivities.
Fry fast foods…
fling fresh fare
(fodder for former fatties).
Flaming flambes,
frozen Frangipani,
Früzen-Gladje,
fudgy fondues.
Fiona feels friction falter;
feeds fairly fully…
finally, farts.
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
BALL OF FIRE
She started off in Brooklyn
Ruby Stevens was her name
Petite, brown-eyed, brunette, lithe
She was destined for fame
First it was those small parts
The best friend or the maid
Then they saw beneath the sheen
there lay a bright-edged blade
Some years further down the road
Changed her style, her dress, her spiels
Stood tall to kiss Gary Cooper
Seven books beneath her heels
Throughout the years she played ’em all
from tough-as-nails jive dancer
to executive and old West rancher
to cute and sly romancer
But the role of hers I love the most
was never shown on screens:
Simply being Barbara Stanwyck
playing cards with the boys ‘tween scenes
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil