This is for my friend M., with whom I had a conversation today. Some days are like this; others, much better… Peace, Amy
Quiet House Riot
Alone, left at home.
Isolation is
cold consolation.
Then the storm moves in.
Soon floodgates open;
silent shrieks fill cracks
in fractured places.
Sea salt shores it up.
Building castles of crystalline tears.
The Dark Ones hand me a shovel.
They say, “Dig it.”
They aren’t hip – they’re talking about my grave.
Maroon lagoon
of sodden gloom.
So low,
solo.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Also at my poetic home, Poets United.
Sad to hear the Writer’s Island is sailing into the sunset soon, but grateful to Rob for his dedication and hard work over these years. He deserves not only a break, but HUZZAHS from all poets who have met each other online through his blog. Love you, Rob, and HAD to respond to one of the final prompts, “Incomparable,” with a pun. Peace, Amy
Income Parable
Two sisters, two misters
Two divergent types of wife
One Wall Street, one small street
Each to their own way of life
One greedy, e’er needy
Income never quite enough
So fancy, perchance she
might have done well with less “stuff”
Other sister and her mister
always seemed to have their share
Faith and love held above
the stocks and bonds, the truth or dare
First Recession, soon Depression
Sister One weeps over loss
Sister Two has no boo-hoo
when faith is strong, the World’s not boss
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Also seen at my poetry home-away-from-home, Poets United
Well, two days of being unable to post on WordPress. Let’s see if this one takes! A Three Word Weds. prompt: Fond, Alter, and Tranquil. Also posted at my poetic home-away-from-home, Poets United.
Thanks to all for having patience with this blog bug. Peace, Amy
Prompt Etiquette
Fond as she was of fulfilling prompts,
she never altered a poem
to “use” the required words.
Tranquility found in
honest expression;
cheating the muse being
sloppy mortar,
bound to be found
lacking in quality.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sorry, guys. I don’t know if it’s the image from Magpie that won’t “take,” but I’m having technical difficulties. Will try to resolve soon! Amy
First, SORRY if I have not responded to your comments these past few days. Our daughter is visiting and that’s a lot of giggling, soul-searching, cafe and/or bar time out of my day!! I promise to catch up soon, so please know, if you’re offended, hey – so is everyone else!
Therefore, I offer/proffer a TWOFER! First for Poetic Asides (“don’t start that again”); the other, for ABC Wednesday (brought to you by the letter “U”). And, of course, at Poets United, my heart. Love and peace, Amy
First, Poetic Asides:
Don’t Start Doing That Again
Think first.
Remember.
Exhalations to renovate reality.
Perforations to perceive perfection.
Condemnations from family, friends.
Intimidations from drug dealers
Remember.
Think first.
It ain’t worth it.
Run.
Fast, baby,
run as fast as you can
to your NA meeting.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
PS to all: Thank God I never succumbed to the needle. It would have been the end of me, for sure.
___________________________________________________________
Second: The letter “U”, ABC Wednesday
Ugly Duckling
Under mirror scrutiny,
every flaw uncovered.
Ubiquitous plague of teens
(zits), seem unique to her.
Up and down university steps,
unaware how her ass undulates
as underclassmen (and women)
ache to uncover what lies beneath.
Unable to see her utmost beauty:
Her undercover laugh, her catlike grin,
her undeniable, ironic humor.
Now, an ugly duckling…
Ultimately, she will become a swan.
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Two girls in one… both of them me before I got the right mix of meds and therapy. A note to folks who have the same condition, please know I’m NOT making fun of anybody living with any type of mental disorder or chemical imbalance. I learned how to laugh at myself as part of my therapy and to be open to that wacky part of my heritage. I’m also part of NAMI Stigma Busters. Amy (For Poets United’s Poetry Pantry.)
DEPRESSED (a dirge)
Leaden footsteps dog my pace
Straining, forcing smile on face
Gravity has conquered me
Hard to muster strength to… be
Wheels are grinding ever slower
Ten more steps to my front door
Dropping bags and sloughing coat
Sitting in a sinking boat
———————————————-
MANIC (an effervescent Peter Cottontail hippity-hop)
Wow I feel great I’m late for work but it’s
not my fault this jerk on TV was sooooooooo
fascinating I had to watch this invention
and the audience was soooooooo enthusiastic
about it just twelve payments of $19.95 plus
shipping so I called oops that credit card
is maxed, went through three before I hit
the jackpot it’s a juicer that also vacuums
your cat whattaya think about that? Gotta
run run run I’m late for work wait there’s
the cafe need coffee and a biscotti really bad
catch you later what’s your name again?
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sunday Scribblings prompted a single word: Sweet. This past Sunday, I witnessed the event below. Enjoy! Amy (Also posted, as always, at Poets United, a collective of dynamite poets.)
Anything Sweeter
Is there anything sweeter
than baby Cale at the baptismal font?
Mama hands him off to the pastor;
this child makes no fuss.
Once, twice, thrice
crossed on the forehead with water;
even as it drips down his nose to his chin,
he takes it all in stride.
And when the congregation applauds
this new member of our church,
Cale doesn’t cry. Doesn’t even blink.
He looks as though he expected the ovation!
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
ABC Wednesday, brought to you by the letter “T.” Also posted at Poets United, natch. My daughter is visiting, and this was composed in her honor, not to make fun! (And actually, her posture is better than this indicates. It’s a composite of the entire generation!) Amy
Techie Twentysomething
Got an IHop plugged in one ear
and a Blueberry hangin off the other
“Wii love the Tech Age and
text ’til our thumbs go numb.”
Shoulders slump from hauling backpacks
since second grade.
Laptop, pursewalletID, keys, cell sardine-crammed
(stash stashed in secret side pocket).
Turn on, tune in, drop out?
Plug in, click on, tune out.
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
A Piku, according to We Write Poems, is like a haiku except for syllablic form: 3,1,4. Most folks who read my work know my disdain for writing in forms, simply because I’m so undisciplined (although an occasional shadorma, haiku, or limerick may emerge). I prefer free-wheeling, come-what-may poetry, but what the hell?
Apologies to Hammerstein, plus Dorothy Fields and Jimmy McHugh (they did best lyrics) for the title…! Also posted at Poets United. Peace, Amy
I Won’t Piku (Don’t Ask Me)
I hate math.
Did,
and always will.
A Piku?
Huh?
A Manga sprite:
Japanese,
small,
round, smiling, pink
But instead,
yuck…
poetic form.
Don’t like forms,
so
I won’t do it.
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
What can I say? Three Word Wednesday asked for poems with the words Grin, Jumble, and Naked. So first a little fun, and then… a little more fun. Peace, Amy (Also posted at my fave poetic collective, Poets United.)
Rugby Gone Wrong
Post-rugby match, Stan, with a grin,
said, “Never mix scrumming with gin:
From deep in the jumble
We heard someone mumble,
‘Good Lord, I’m as naked as sin!’”
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
““““““““““““`
Time Goes By
They mesh peacefully
‘neath sheets weathered
from years of laundering
He grins; her finger traces the deep lines
engraved from years of laughter and from struggle,
the hardscrabble jumble of their lives together
Her naked breasts sag off to the side
She doesn’t care; he thinks she’s as lovely a lass
as ever a man was blessed to wed.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sharp Little Pencil 