This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 53; the fifty-third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with Soulmates: Love without ownership by Vinit K Bansal. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
Chocolate Gives (Blog-a-ton 53)
It gives
Gives way to nibbles
Decreases at increase of tooth; sweet
pressure, the tingle, thy name is chocolat
It gives
Hormonal cravings soothed
Creased brow smoothed
by silky melt on hungry tongue
It gives
Oh, the hips
Bulky, sumptuous
Babushka arms sway leisurely as I wave
It gives
Vain pleasure
Fleeting moments of indulgence
Your fragrance leaves me longing
© 2015 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
It’s BLOG-A-TON 53! Thanks to Blog-a-thon Marshal Saravana Kumar Murugan for sending the link. They’re taking poems about chocolate all day, so pick up your pencil and dive into the sweetest pool in town… Peace and chocolate bunnies (which Riley and I never had the heart to eat. I mean, where do you start?) I am THRILLED to be joining bloggers in India for this challenge. They accept as many as one can write; just put the link into your message once the “doors” open! Good luck, and happy writing. Amy
The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: XX
Gertrude House
Alice and the door. Wood of hallway mouth. Come and go, go there to other.
Greet days of tokens that go, away. Type the write of it. Desk the way to thought of chair and desk, Alice and hand.
Oak. Oak the way to Alice. Fro and for.
Chocolate Stein
Chocolate is. Color brindle barn, silent the waft.
Smile chocolate of kitchen, orange stain the bowl.
The bowl brindle; chocolate fine and feeling, cat nips at cream for dream.
© 2015 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
In the Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, we are conjuring Gertrude Stein. Does it all make a bit of sense now? I sort of hope not! Amy
Cacophony © 2015 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil (Click to enlarge, lots of detail)
My Wednesday night, up until 4 am, still fritterminded. Shared with ABC Wednesday. Miles to go before I sleep…or even shlep! Amy
Absinthe Minded
With the grace and delicacy
of a tea ceremony
Wedge-lipped crystal
with bulbous bottom
aswirl with the
green fairy muse of
Wilde and vanGogh
and so many others
A magnificent silver spoon
to pour water over
a sugar cube, to stir
the emerald drowse
Sipped silent/slowly
Connoisseurs’ craving
Slip into halcyon heaven
Linger and luxuriate
Imagine
Create
© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For dverse Poets’ Pub, the third anniversary of a vital, vibrant voice in our community. Hope they have the proper equipment behind the bar to pour a round of these! Peace to all, and thanks to Brian, Claudia, and the bartenders for continuing this wonderful tradition. Amy
Dance With Me
Possessed of a prominent nose
Sloe eyes and sensuous smile
Regina, dancing muse
Real-deal belly dancing, repleat
with silver – snaking around
slender arms, on her ankles
shandangling about her svelte,
supple, flexible waist and hips
Her ultimate adornment was
her boa, whose name time has
swallowed, but whose image is
indelible; the trust, the sure
partnership, he lovingly
encircled her neck and arms,
living jewelry and friend
Slow their duet, slithering
in a Roma-tinged tango,
she so proud of her partner
The two cast a potent spell
Regina often allowed me to
help deliver him back to the
safety of his Indian woven
basket, his genie bottle
He graced my arms with
a cuddle. Warm skin, still
damp with her sweat from
his beloved perch, Regina.
Years later, still dancing,
Regina contracted that
slow-eating cancer, yet retained
her smile, her love of life
Now Regina has crossed over
to the side where pain is no more
Snakes in the hereafter are lining up
for the chance of just one dance
© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Regina Star was just that – a queen and a celestial being. She worked with us at the fabled Great American Food & Beverage Company. I have combined several instances in her life to create this portrait. Having love snakes all my life, I was humbled by Regina’s trust that I carry Jack’s basket around at the GAFB 30th anniversary. Cancer had ravaged her body, and yet she danced with the same grace and self-assurance, Jack extending his head past her hand to view the audience. A whirling force of nature, our Regina. May she be at peace.
Oh, and one word to the “eeeew, snakes are slimy” crowd: The next time you are near a boa constrictor (preferably one recently fed!), if you aren’t game to have it be on your body, at least caress it. The smooth skin, the warmth, the decidedly non-slimy nature of snakes… trust me, you’ll dig it!
Written for the Poets United prompt for poems in praise of snakes. Peace, Amy
Summertime 60s
Back in the 60s
Not the Beatles 60s and
before Carnaby Street
and Twiggy and Verushka
The Roger Miller 60s
Peter, Paul, and Mary
Nat “King” Cole
Peggy Lee still made the charts
Radio was on all day
Mom was calmer then
Her heroes had not
been gunned down yet
“Trailer for sale or rent”
Most songs, we’d sing along
Drinking coffee and
listening for the mailman
“Is that all there is?”
Yep. And it was enough
© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
dverse Poets asked for the theme about each poet’s hisTORY. I poked along on this one and missed the chance to link this poem there, but do visit dverse and read some amazing poets!
Sure, there were difficult aspects to my childhood. Many of you can relate to parts of THAT story. But this felt right for the prompt, and it’s good sometimes to accentuate the positive. Peace, Amy
Folks, as often happens with my precarious mental health circumstances, I must take a week off blogging. I’m sorry I haven’t been posting regularly, and I decided it’s poetic fatigue… need to go out and catch a star, but first must rest my mind.
Thanks, y’all, for hanging in with me through thick and thin! I’ll sharpen my pencil in the next few days, but for now, I bid you peace. Amy
WHEN WE WERE YOUNG THINGS
When we were angels
swimming in the stars,
we were but boy toys
hanging in the bars
When we were divas
dressed in les Diors,
we were with shlumps who
didn’t open doors
(Bridge)
Looking glass, tell me
When did the view change
Why not forever young
Rather than cue change
When we were sirens
singing from the cliffs
we were a jumble of
“whens” and “whys” and “ifs”
(Bridge)
Looking glass, tell me
When did the view change
Why not forever young
Rather than cue change
When we were young things
slinking down the street
we’d ne’er imagine
that ourselves we’d meet
Now we were older
greyer each season
Now we are bolder
We’ve found our reason
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
We were asked, at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, to write a song… a chanson, a lieder, anything that might be set to music. This is a slow waltz with a pause after the bridge (at “cue change”). Songwriting has long been my business, so I guess I’d better pen the tune now! Also “in the margins” at my poetic concert hall, Poets United. Peace, Amy
Diva (little cat feet)
Cats change the landscape of plans.
When orphaned Diva poked her head
out of hiding, a loving thread
filtered from her heart to ours.
She sniffs shoes, jumps at
her own shadow, eats bread crumbs
off the kitchen floor. She defies
gravity, leaping from carpet
to couch back with ease at 11 years.
She salts us with the reality that
we are parents again.
Her soft breath, her purr,
sends me into blissout mode.
We all sense the sea change
and we love it.
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For The Sunday Whirl (see Wordle HERE); also in the margins at Poets United and Imaginary Garden With Real Toads. We adopted Diva this week, and she’s a vocal little old girl whose “daddy” died suddenly… she’s grieving, plus she was scared by two of the man’s daughter’s more aggressive cats. Still a bit hand shy, she will climb up on my lap (when she’s ready) and purr… sounds of the heart. Peace, Amy
Moongazing
Moon
Silver
sliver of
fascination
Her slow turn tango
across a black dance floor
No partner, save the sun’s light
No audience, save one wistful
woman gazing heavenward, wishing
this divine song would play on forever
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons; permissions granted by photographer, Dori
Hedgewitch at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads offered up a form challenge: the etheree. It’s a form I can handle… one syllable, two syllables… on up to ten. You can even take ten, go back to nine, and down to one to for a reverse or double etheree (ethefour?!).
The extra challenge was to make it ethereal as well. To me, there is nothing as ethereal as the moon in all her phases, whether obscured by wisps of clouds or viewed on a stark, clear night. Hope you enjoyed mine! For others, click HERE. Also linked to Poets’ United’s Poetry Pantry, where we all come out to play with words and thoughts. Peace, Amy
Sharp Little Pencil 