If She Were
If she were a cuticle
she’d be bleeding
If she were road kill, she’d be
half in a crow’s belly
This country
These headlines
The prospects, so bleak
She’s dog tired
Bone weary
Dog bone busted
© 2016 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
ABC Wednesday is on the letter “I” and seems to be pointing toward writing one’s own life. Strange to write these thoughts in the third person; yet, to claim all this as mine feels like defeat.
I am hopeful, but this reality is taking its toll…
Peace, Amy
Bridge the Gap
Thoughts here
Pen there
Bridge the gap
Under cover of covers
Mind unsnuggled and busy already
Journal over on dresser…
Oh, to find courage and brave
the icy sprint in thin flannel
to capture, capsulize this inspiration
Make haste
Bridge the gap
© 2016 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Mama Zen, you are my hero today. I was winnowing files, shrinking the ever-growing pile of laundry… and then, when I logged on to Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, the “Play it again, Toads” prompt brought back a “Words Count” post from you – Twitter, fewer than 140 characters (this is 114). Since I was in an editing mood, this seemed perfect.
Also, it’s worth noting that I had the first stanza in mind just before falling asleep. I grabbed a paper napkin from the nightstand and scribbled with a stubby pencil. Completed the rest just now at my computer! Peace, Amy
Bright Brit (For Alan Rickman)
That smooth sotto voce baritone
A voice for the ages
The prominent proboscis
Teeth that said, “Yeesss, I’m from England”
Slightly sibilant ‘s’
A peculiar British drawl
The singular instrument that was his voice
Hilarious or reserved
Alien or Austin
Wizard or Will Shakespeare
He was all of it, and sublime
We lost a good one that day
but the work lives on
in velvet couplets
and spells cast
© 2016 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Had to come out of the cold to pay tribute to a wonderful man. Alan Rickman was one of my favorite actors. Yes, there was the loss of Bowie, but Rickman’s talents touched me in unexpected ways. I fell in love with him in “Truly Madly Deeply” (no commas in that title – see the film to find out why).
Lex and Riley and I quote his Dr. Lazarus from “Galaxy Quest” incessantly – “By Grabthar’s Hammer… what a savings,” and “…five curtain calls!”
Rickman had the knack of being droll when others were chewing scenery. He was a generous actor and colleague. He stayed true to the same woman for 50 years! Who even does that in the performing arts?!
I miss him. Thanks to ABC Wednesday for hosting my scribblings, the first in months.
THE MAN WHO MISTOOK JESUS FOR AN A.T.M.
And he makes a good living
Preaches the Gospel of Abundance
like it’s all about actual money
Mistakes manna for mammon
Money managers for martyrs when they
lose it all in the latest crash
Dave says the poor have bad habits
Tosses Bible verses like piñata candy to the
starving, staring sycophants who pay for the privilege
Dave is so white in his chambray shirt
(Get it, he’s a blue-collar guy with
a blue-blood bank account, all cash)
But being white is a given in his world
Because Jesus was clearly a white Christian
who whispered the Holy Password to Dave
Dave can unlock the Vault for y’all
But first, like it was with the Pharisees, you have to
change your money at the temple door and
sacrifice to a False Idol in denim
© 2015 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Imaginary Garden With Real Toads gave us Oliver Sacks; rather, his titles serve as a jumping-off point for our poems today. YES! While I will always question the presumed wisdom of psychiatrists, there is room for a little Dr. Sacks in my world. Of course, it was The Man Who Mistook His Wife For A Hat that caught my eye.
Dave Ramsay is a shyster who once had some very good ideas about paying down debt, but that quickly morphed into a pseudo-preaching addiction. We took a seminar, and it helped, but there was a lot of Fundie crap to ignore. And Dave himself, a blowhard of the first degree… who would not recognize White Privilege if it bit him on his Dockers.
I was going to write something along the lines of The Candidate Who Mistook Me For Someone Who Gives a Shit, but the Republicans have gotten too much ink…
Amy
Livin’ on the Minimum Wage
© 2014 Music & Lyrics by Amy Barlow Liberatore/Beehat Baby Words & Music
Dedicated to the fight for economic justice in the USA
CHORUS:
Livin’ on the minimum wage
Slavin’ for the man who don’t need more
Bet he never felt what it’s like to be poor
My life’s a story of this sad age
I’m livin’ – givin’ – livin’ on the minimum wage
St. Vinny pray for me and mine
Jeans and sneaks and hoodies I’ve gotta find
Squeezin’ every dollar ‘til the eagle screams
Fight in pantry lines for the rice and beans
Where’s my golden ticket? Want a golden ticket!
Where’s my golden ticket? Need a golden ticket!
CHORUS
Does my congressman know what it means
WalMart and McDonald’s don’t pay beans
Put ‘em all together, it’s full-time work
If my kids get sick, then my boss is a jerk
“Doncha got a sitter? You should have a sitter!”
If I had the money… SURE I’d have a sitter!
CHORUS
Waitin’ in the clinic with the kids today
Cut off my Medicaid, now I’ve gotta pay
Why they tryin’ to tell me I make too much
Daycare, rent, food, gas, and such
Man, they make it harder. Why they make it harder?
Life is getting harder… I won’t be a martyr!
CHORUS
I wrote this song (think “Brother, Can You Spare A Dime?” vibe for music… sorry, I don’t have a recording) for a Justice and Witness Ministries event at our United Church of Christ here in Madison, WI. Have we all worked minimum wage/maximum effort jobs? Sure, in our teens, our twenties, maybe… But nowadays, I see parents, grandparents, all slaving for a buck.
We need to do better by our workers. This is America, a country of immigrants who seem to have forgotten that we stole the whole deal from the Tribal Nations and then “imported” human beings like cattle to build it up for free. We need to regain a sense of humility and compassion. That’s my Labor Day prayer.
For ABC Wednesday, I for Income Inequality! Amy
STUDIO QUANDARY
Not what I thought I’d paint this day
Not at all, the dizzying colors and
figures from last night’s dream
I tossed the covers
Stirred the maid from her rest
Even woke my wife in the next room
A dragon gave chase and I
was naked screaming running
Bare and barely missing his fiery, explosive tongue
Now the dream is slowing settling on wood
The creature and my whirling flaccid flesh
And a phrase I still don’t understand: Barney & Friends
© 2015 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Imaginary Garden of Real Toads gave us this Rembrandt, “Artist in His Studio.” I put myself in his cobbled boots and decided to give him a little scare… and myself a chuckle! Amy
TIMEPIECE
She is a perfectly wound timepiece
Impeccable, pristine
Her every movement serves a purpose
No effort wasted
Pristine, aglow
Admired by those who
value clean lines, precision
Who see time as precious, noting
her ease in handling each task in turn
And yet she dreams of
tarrying
and tarnish
© 2015 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
William Carlos Williams was a master of metaphor (and also a fellow Virgo, if I’m not mistaken). I can only wish… and admire. Kerry at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads had previously posted this prompt; I am daydreaming with admiration for Mr. Williams and other Imagists today. Amy
Dear Straight Guys,
It’s not like darts
Not if you’re smart
Not “point and shoot”
It’s not like b-ball
Not at all
She’s more than a rim to hit
and webbing to fall through
She’s neither mark nor target
The real woman lies beyond
what you’ll see
when you see her
As much as she wants you
(and make damned sure she wants you,
or we’ll have more than words, little man)
she needs even more
What lies within us is a world
An ecosystem
A universe of the delicate sublime,
of intricate, meandering passages
She’s a labyrinth and you must
must must must
caress the key, finesse the lock
with time and care, the kind
you’ve never shown your own
So talk to her
Let her guide you
She has places that need
the same soft kisses you place on her mouth
down south at the delta
And just in case you still think
you hold all the power, here’s a thought
After you don the raincoat to
dance in the lovely dew, think about this:
Whose parts will disappear in the meeting?
Who welcomes in, and who is swallowed up?
She has unfathomable fathoms
of phantom bliss
Remember that
from the very first kiss
© 2015 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For ABC Wednesday, we are on the letter F. That’s for “finesse,” you naughty children. Also on the Tuesday Platform at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads! Amy
PRO-LIFE FOR DUMMIES
This bundle of cells
inside my body
must be protected
from me
This knot of matter
matters more
than the human host
My uterus must be guarded
lest my brain decide otherwise
since my brain is flawed
because I am only a woman
and you know better
and babies must be born
and intra-uterine ultrasounds are cool
(not a form of rape)
Even though the condom broke
The Pill failed
The boyfriend abused
The husband wanted and took
The father fathered
The stranger raped
Even though I know I
cannot raise this child in love
in security and hope
and the schools you provide
will never educate
and the help you will offer
is skewered by bitter judgments
After all that, you have
no words of condemnation or obligation
for the sperm donor
for the “father”
(who will never be a father)
My uterus must be protected
from my logical brain
Lord, save me from Christians
who believe pro-birth is pro-life
© 2015 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sometimes it has to be political. Sometimes it’s so obvious. You are welcome to comment, but please don’t SCREAM AT ME IN ALL CAPS. And no foul language, because everyone knows what a prude I am!
For ABC Wednesday, once they post today, E for Extremist. Also for Poetry Pantry at Poets United, where you will find an abundance of diverse voices. Give these sites a try. Take the leap! Amy
