BIG NEWS! Just found out I am one of 49 poets chosen for Poets United’s first Anthology! I am thrilled to be part of such an inspired group of poets. I’ll give you info when it comes out… but for now, it’s all about the good vibes! Thanks to Robert and the Poets United group for choosing my work.
Our first week in Madison, WI, and we got pounded by a blizzard. Thrilling. Brought back memories of growing up at the top of a hill in Apalachin, NY, and praying for a snow day with Kim, Vaughna and the gang!
MADISON MIDNIGHT
Full-tilt boogie of a blizzard
A whirling curtain of snow flutters in a stiff wind
Up, down, sideways, manic, tornadic
Drifts recall the dunes of San Juan
But these surfaces are not calm, nor smooth
Small patches plot courses to oblivion
A moment of calm; street lights visible across the courtyard
Suddenly, wind shouts commands
and snow obeys
The Dance of the Seven Veils, inverted;
one layer piles upon the next:
Powder
Flakes
Crystals
Tulle
Gossamer
Shards and Shivers
The wind may bellow and billow
But snow takes wing in whispered abandon
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
One last poem before they shut off the Net access and I welcome the movers. This meditation is one three days without my Lex smiling at me across the dinner table; it’s also a remembrance of days before his loving help in the kitchen.
A SOLITARY PLACE SETTING
Dinner for one
Single chicken breast pounded, powdered with
a bit of flour, salt, pepper
No flourishes here; no guest to impress
Olive oil flashes as poultry meets
onion-green pepper-garlic melange,
the Holy Trinity of kitchen worship
A lonely head of broccoli pipes up, steaming
I sip Pinot Noir from a jelly jar
Finer glasses sit on the shelf
waiting for someone who will one day join me
chatting over chopping of veggies
as he compliments my talent
for producing perfect brown rice
The table is set now
One placemat, one napkin in its ring
One cat mrrrowing that it’s his suppertime, too
Swirling a second helped of wine, I wonder
when the Fates will serve me up
someone for whom presentation is everything
and dessert doesn’t come from the oven, but
the slow cooking of romance
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
At Writer’s Island, we were encouraged to write about celebrations of any form. This poem is pretty much true, as are a lot of my pieces. Peace, Amy
GRADUATION DAY
It was graduation and we worked SO frickin hard
to get to that platform, even if it meant the ceremony and
a gown and a hat with the woosy little tassel on it
Our night to howl, we ditched the parents pretty quick
after the cake and punch and Aunt Cora pinching my cheek
Gotta catch up with the guys, I told Mom
Dad put his hand on her shoulder, like, it’s okay
Our kid’s a man today, and soon he’ll be in uniform, so
let him have fun with his friends, that’s how it goes
My sister begged me to take her along and I was like, no way
We got a party hidden away at Hilary’s house cause
her folks are away and she said she’s got a surprise
We get there, it’s all beer and sweat and thumpin music
“ATTENTION GRADUATES!” shrieks Hil over the noise
“We got some Farmville goin on for you tonight”
I’m lookin around for a computer and the Facebook screen
If that’s the big surprise, we’re bookin and findin a real party
She’s got a big bowl and some straws and stuff
“Take your pick.” Oh. PHARMville. You know the deal
Everybody raids their parents’ meds and their kid sister’s Ritalin
and Gram’s Oxy she takes for the arthritis in her knees
It all goes in a bowl and you pick out a few and down it
with a beer, or choose Door Number Two, which I did, and Ben
Pills crushed up to make a high/low heroin rush when you snort em
Last party wasn’t so good, I swallowed some caps and threw up a lot
And this is our big night, so Ben and I grab the straws
It burns, then a second later we’re soooooo mellooooow
All I remember is Ben falling asleep on the couch smilin like a dork
I passed out in this state of I don’t know what you call it, but
it felt damn good, like when they put me under for my tonsils
Just woke up and I’m at a funeral, oh shit, did Ben try to drive?
Everybody’s cryin, and I’m in the church balcony lookin down
I’m in my best suit, in the casket. Shit.
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
At Sunday Scribblings, the call was for the theme “manifesto.” This seems apropos as we approach the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am killer-diller of all manifesto proclamation days… you know what I’m talking about: NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS!
MANIFESTO DESTINY
No matter what the resolution
I always messed it up
I confess, I’m mistress of the
revolution against New Year’s promises
all broken by Valentine’s Day
That year of the grapefruit diet
I fainted in the street
Lack of protein, said the doctor
Thus began the evolution of my desire
to quash sad manifestos
Friends who “will quit smoking on January first”
Suck ‘em up Dec. 31
Like a junkie determined to
wrench the monkey from his back
but keeps the tourniquet as a memento
Gyms are packed that first week of the year
Then one by one, they peel off
petals of a fading rose
that shrivels for lack of water
or that packet of crap you’re supposed to dissolve in the vase
Let’s face it.
New Year’s resolutions are
useless self-sabotage
Setting yourself up for failure
before the hangover even kicks in
(c) 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sunday Scribblings wanted to hear thoughts about December. Long ago and far away, I was a Manhattanite…
CITY SNOW AT EVENING
Central Park in December
At dusk the sun has dipped below
the stark skyline
casting reflections of blue
on the new-fallen snow
It’s as if even the snow knows
it’s part of an urban landscape
the color of steel and
the crunchy crust it so readily forms
As if to say,
“Hey, there’s nothing fluffy to see here
Move along, now”
Making my way across 72nd Street
the heat of the subway has already risen
and melted this fresh blessing
into muddy pools of rusted slush
It’s City snow, all right
It won’t last the night
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Writer’s Island asked for a poem about Triumph. Can’t think of anything more triumphant than a great gig with the right crowd and my voice in good shape…! Click on the link and check out the comments section to read other takes on the prompt! Amy
JAZZ AFIRE
Spotlight’s hot tonight
Fresh coffee on the side table
My fingers touch the cool ivories
and all hell breaks loose
Thumping the bass line
Reaching deep, drawing out
the raw fire of jazz within
Souls of legends aflame as I call to them:
Feed my soul, strike the match
Light a fire under my piano bench
til I burn with desire to shout it true
Til the keys melt at my touch
Hellzapoppin at this piano bar
Crowd heats up and calls for more
Coffee’s cold, neglected
but I’m a pyre of pure jazz afire
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
At the Poets United Thursday Think Tank, we were asked to put forth a poem about forgiveness…
MAKING AMENDS
Humbly consider your own part
in whatever caused the rift
Take a breath before you start
Don’t allow your words to drift
Take the blame for your wrongdoing
Let the person hear your sin
Silence, key to real renewing
God forgiving, God within
This time may not seal the deal
ending in a warm embrace
But if you want the wounds to heal
You’re started at the perfect place
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Well, I did manage to sneak on Poetic Asides (click on today’s prompt to see others’ work), as well as Jingle and Sunday Scribblings this week. So in the midst of my move, here is my take on Robert’s prompt: RECEIPT. Apropos, no? Peace, Amy
MEMORANDUM
TO: Poetic Asides and my blogging buddies
RE: Receipt of my intent to change locales
To Poetic Asides, to all I have befriended
No matter where I am, my journey with you
has not ended, nor will it
But God has called my Pastor Lex to a new place
To do a “new thing,” as is his calling
From cold, snowy Attica
To colder, blistering Madison, WI
Moving in Mid-January:
This shows that God possesses not only a
great sense of humor
But a well-developed sense of irony as well
(Jews knew that already)
While I shall remain scarce until
the move is completed, I will check in
from time to time. PA is my “fix” when
life mixes turmoil with tinsel
and thunder with a lightening of spirit
May you all have a blessed Christmas
A peaceful Hanukkah (where the heck is my dreidel?)
…and a happy Festuvus (for the rest of us)
No matter what your reason for celebrating this season
pray for peace above all
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sharp Little Pencil 