April Fool (The Poet)
She can do it
She’s done it before
April calls for
a poem a day
She locks out
distractions, lets
herself get lost
in memories and moments
It could be a
song – she has
staff paper on hand,
after all, plenty
It won’t be
floral themes
Funeral scented as
petals fall to the carpet
No “moon June spoon”
songs; something
bluesy with peaks
of soulful wails
She has written
about stoners and
wastrels, powders
up nostrils, bad sex
Politics and pencils
Incense and incest
LGBTQs and rednecks
Allies and enemies
Today, she will
simply vow to
make it worthy,
come what may
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For the Sunday Whirl (see Wordle HERE), and on the sidebar at Poets United, my oasis in the desert; AND for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads’ Open Link Monday. n celebration of the first day of NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month (or Naturally Panicky Writhing Motions, depending on my level of desperation).
The game is afoot, Watson. Watson, the foot is a game. A game, Watson, the foot is. Yeah, I’m ready! Peace, Amy
Bring Back My Heart, copyright details below
The prompt at Poets United’s Thursday Think Tank is “Music.” Hey, what an opportunity, right?
Here is a song from my CD, Jazz Baby Hits Her Stride.
You can hear me sing it if you click on the link above.
Hope you enjoy this little love song, recorded at the studio of my dear friend Jon Randel. Peace, Amy
Bring Back My Heart
Thank you for the visit, it really was sublime
To catch up on the news after all this time
I packed in such a hurry, some things got left behind
So if you wouldn’t mind…
My toothbrush and my dental floss, I left them on the sink
And a lone Peruvian earring, in the living room, I think
Some pictures of my daughter on a table by the door
And my lingerie we left scattered on the floor
It’s really quite the laundry list
But there’s one more thing I missed
Bring back my heart, return it to me
At the first convenient opportunity
It had just come off the shelf
And I had planned to keep it for myself
I didn’t leave it in the bedroom – I’m not blasé
That’s not the place where hearts are given away
Perhaps it was the restaurant where you took my hand
And told me life had not turned out exactly as you’d planned
You asked me whether I had hopes to share my life again
And I told you God had plans for me, but wouldn’t tell me when
My heart was mine alone
And until we kissed, I thought it had turned to stone
Bring back my heart, we’ll see what’s in store
Make my office gossip when you show up at the door
Bring back my heart, but until you do
I know it’s safe with you
So put it in your pocket, keep it close
Hold it with the treasures you love most
And when you return it, here is what I’ll do:
I will scent it with roses, wrap it in lace
Lay it in the lining of a golden case
And I will give it right back to you
© 2004 Words and Music by Amy Barlow Liberatore
Published by Beehat Baby Music, all rights reserved
Sharp Little Pencil 