Irony In The Air
Summer’s here, or so it seems.
Shining sun – the stuff of dreams.
Odd Wisconsin irony,
not a trace of snow to see.
Last year, we were steeped in snow,
flannel-clad from head to toe.
Now I wear a sad array
of summer stuff not packed away…
Ensemble matching? No, I fear,
but T-shirt’s message does ring clear:
As war grows on despite our rants,
Lennon’s pic: “Give peace a chance!”
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For ABC Wednesday, brought to you by the letter “I.”
It’s Twofer… Thursday! Three prompts in two poems. Each prompt is listed under the appropriate work. It’s a sunny day, and things are looking up in Amyville! If you want your day to be even better, click on the links for the various poetry sites and look at the astounding work out there in cyberbeautyland! Peace, Amy
Just One Wish
If I could have just one wish…
I’d melt all weapons, from
handguns to tanks
Forge farm tools for land to be tilled by
hands that formerly pushbuttonlaunched drones
Hands that flew off wrists as Hummer hit IED.
Honest work for real pay,
homes for all, bellies full.
The sick tended,
violence ended,
people defended
by reason, not rockets.
By wisdom, not war.
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For Carry On Tuesday, prompt: Finish this poem, “If I had just one wish…”
And now… sidetracking into true ignorance!
Homophobes
“Deviant” is a concept
born of miniscule minds
and religious cherry-pickers
who have bad translations of the Bible.
They dwell on the trivial
while ignoring real problems
which require substantial effort…
and that are apparently not their concern.
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For Three Word Wednesday (Deviant, Miniscule, Trivial) and ABC Wednesday, brought to you by the letter “H.”
Both are also at my poetic hangout, Poets United.
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.
WARNING: NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART
———————————–
Two different views of the same woman – one from across the room, one within. A true story, based on experiences with a multiracial social justice group. Eventually, we came to an understanding… Amy
Dissonance: The Races, We Run
See that white lady
She so smug, so set
Grew up in suburbs
Daddy workin a steady job
Mom at home, waiting for kids from school
See that white lady
She grew up with privilege
No latchkey, no projects, no “free lunch” line
She told me they had a pool out back with sharks in it
What the hell she talkin
See the same white lady, staring in the mirror
See her take all those prescription drugs
to keep it together, 50 years after the fact
After the house on the cul de sac
Watch her heaving sobs in the therapist’s office
‘Cause some nights, the swimming ended and
The Shark grew lungs and feet and
a heavy, stumbling footfall
He’d open her bedroom door
and feast
Peel back the siding of the placid ‘burbs
Tread carefully the manicured lawns
Pick up a spyglass, examine the nasty underbelly
Throw open the drapes at midnight
Breathe deep – the stench of incest and vermouth
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Also for ABC Wednesday (brought to you by the letter “D”) and, as always, Poets United.
Jazz Is…
Jazz is spinning on a turntable
Jazz is best served up vinyl
Jazz is eyes closed, mind open
Jazz is swaying, undulating, smooth moves
Jazz is a rasp, a kick in the pants
Jazz is velvet, silk, satin, sexy
Jazz is not a snob; the party’s always free
Jazz is every good season
Jazz seeped through the loam, the swampy shame
of the Old South, spinning, spinning:
Out of the whorehouses and into the clubs,
out of the clubs and onto the stage,
to enliven, to embrace,
to soothe every soul
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
ABC Wednesday, brought to you by the letter “J.” Also at my poetic oasis, Poets United. Click on these links to discover some amazing poets! Peace… and jazz, always, Amy
Still under the weather – and yet, there’s that dizzy, “you ain’t goin’ nowhere” feeling of the flu that still gives rise to interesting thoughts.
First off, you MUST check out this link if you interested in (and, like me, vociferously object to) the Nazi/Fascist/Far-Right phenomenon of banning and/or burning books. Some might not like it (not because of subject, but because the title is something about “booksluts” and they use the “vee-jay-jay” word (yes, I have one, too. What’s the big deal?). There are some useful links. I BOUGHT my daughter a copy of The Jungle by Upton Sinclair when she was a teen. BANNED! SOCIALIST LEANINGS! Click HERE.
Please do check it out, but NOT until you have read this poem, for ABC Wednesday, and, of course, my poetic heartbeat, Poets United. Amy
I Never Lost Faith in Love
For all the sorry-ass excuses for men
who double-crossed my path,
through every mischievous menace who
left me drained and feeling inadequate,
I never lost faith in love.
Through many mistakes whose lips met mine
with divinely inspired kisses
(but the Devil’s own heart), plus
all the power of commitment God gave an ashtray,
I never lost faith in love.
For every hairy-dick tomcat
who yowled ‘til I let him in,
through every door that slammed in my face
once he got his share of the kitty,
I never lost faith in love.
On this earth, once I found the one
who is plush to my blush,
ever-after to my laughter,
I thank God every day,
I never lost faith in love.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Our First Actual Date
I fumble pouring beer from the pitcher
We banter: Work, our daily bread, church
His gentle way assures me that
he doesn’t expect this date to end up in bed
We’re long-time friends, he respects
my role as a single mother, and my kid likes him
Then a simple glance, and we realize
we’re meant for each other
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Dedicated to my husband and partner of almost 14 years, Lex.
For Three Word Wednesday (words in bold), and the heartbeat my collective work, Poets United.
For ABC Wednesday, brought to you by the letter “A as in Amy.” There were two of us on State Street today, plus a Michael and an Alex (who is probably muttering, “A is for Alex, guys”). Also posted at my fave poetry saloon, er, salon, Poets United.
After All
Old friends, long time since last
we shared a table in a café
We talk old days, school,
kids when they were anecdotal fodder
Then politics, the dumbing down of America
The Hemlock Party and educating barbarians
Unions, pros and cons
Dems, Reps, Libs, and Cons
The future… they visited Glacier Park
and saw mostly wildflowers and a bit of ice
But after all our kvetching and laughter, it ends in this:
GROUP HUG!
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Abusive Remains
Siblings.
Each has their own version of What happened and How,
but most importantly, Why.
Emptied of shame, I still wonder.
Am I sure in my memories?
Have I scratched theme enough to bleed,
to tear a hole deep through to
the beating heart that still skips a beat
when HIS name is mentioned?
Did HE really hang the moon?
Was HE blameless,
spotless?
HE was, after all,
remorseless.
Should I feel guilty? Was I mistaken?
Perhaps I was demon-possessed after all.
One good exorcism and I’d be like new.
One dip in the blood of the Lamb and I’d be reborn… or so she says.
Except, as I drift off to sleep on some nights,
my head still tilts back slooooowly and
my mouth opens and
I am choked in that brutal rhythm.
It was real.
It happened.
It remains.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Poetic Asides asked for poems on the word “Empty,” and ABC Wednesday, rather than reverting to another alphabet, started over with “A.” Also posted at the STELLAR blog, Poets United. Come to all these sites. Meet my genius friends!! Amy
ABC Wednesday, brought to you by the letter, “Z”! (Do we start on the Cyrillic alphabet now?) Also at the poetic collective, Poets United.
This poem is based on the phenomenon that effectively destroyed my piano-bar career… Amy
Zithromax (Think Before Lighting Up Indoors)
A smoky club, the trapped wait staff
take your orders and get the shaft.
While you puff a cig or two,
others do just as you do.
You can leave and breathe fresh air;
singers, barkeeps, stuck in there
Low-wage job with no insurance;
Z-pac samples help endurance.
When you blithely light that match
think of what the workers catch.
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sharp Little Pencil 