Ah, the beloved Wordle landed once again at Big Tent Poetry. Like a Rubik’s cube of words, except there is no right or wrong way to assemble it. Check out Big Tent to see others’ work. Peace, Amy
Parade of Smiles (Big Tent Poetry)
The parade of smiles, boyish slips of things
that turn out to be teenage girls,
seems to defy explanation.
I gasp as they slump by,
stick figures who should be
waking to full womanhood.
I question silently their choices
of salad over Chinese in the food court
and hope they get enough protein and fats.
My daughter’s love of moccachinos speaks volumes
about her state of mind and body.
She may be a tangle of emotions…
but her body is aflame with curves.
Thighs with musculature and form;
she is aware of herself and fully awake.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
At Big Tent Poetry, we were asked to think long and hard about our dwellings… then write about a favorite place. I knew right away where my heart lay.
OUR KITCHEN (for Lex)
In times long passed,
the kitchen hearth was
the heart of every home.
Scent of drying herbs
a potpourri of potted and garden delights.
Fresh-baked bread beckoning.
Perhaps a rocking chair for Gram
as she sat and choreographed
the preparation of the evening meal.
And always, a pot of coffee.
Our own kitchen is quite small,
but the walls, tomato red, stir appetites.
We collaborate on meals:
Here’s the wooden board, I’ll chop veggies
while you brown the chicken.
You, the king of piecrust, rule the rolling pin
while I slice apples and stir in spices.
Occasionally, we bump butts, laughing.
Small space, but a romantic place.
Our kitchen is the heart of our home.
Rented, but ours, still
because we’ve made it so.
The cat watches longingly from his perch
awaiting his shre.
We cook, bake, talk, share
and pray over the meal we prepare,
for patience, for love to loom large
over the rest of the world. As for me and mine,
we are at peace.
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
We were given a jumble of words and asked to create a poem.
Purple, Kiss, Drooping, Gourd, Hook, Staircase, Extract, Glossy, Pluck, Muddy, Doll, Bitter
This is what happened for me. Get over to Big Tent Poetry and sample other poets, too! Amy
One kiss for me, one for Ted
So much more than a doll
The biggest bear of all time
(or so it seemed)
His fur a muddy brown
Eyes a bittersweet chocolate hue
My girl would pluck Ted from the couch
and drag him drooping up the staircase (thunk, thunk)
Now Ted resides in my writing space
beside an 8×10 glossy of the daughter
who’s brilliant and sometimes out of her gourd and
hooked on art – like her mom
Sometimes, when I miss her much
(she having extracted herself to the West Coast)
Ted and I sit on the big purple blanket
talk it over
and have ourselves a good little cry
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore
We were asked to conduct an interview… here is one conversation I would love to have. Amy
A SEEKER SPEAKS TO THE MAGDALENE (Interview, Big Tent)
(Seeker) To witness your Lord
hanging on that cross
Bloodied, his voice parched
Can you see it, even now?
(Mary Magdalene) Waving crows off his face
lest they peck out his eyes
That vision is burned into my mind
My heart is crushed again and again
(S) They called you crazy
A whore and more
So afraid of you, the men
threw out your Gospel
(MM) Over the years, I was
discredited, my story edited
Details tacked on me
like cheap jewels, it’s true
(S) You used your wealth
to finance the ministry
You learned to heal
Trained, same as the men
(MM) But men had the power
Freer to travel alone in the world
I tried to teach, but without the Rabbi
they berated me
(S) We know your strength, sister
You risked your life to find his grave
He revealed his risen self to you first
You never ran away to hide
(MM) Women are the bearers and keepers
Women understand risk
We bleed; we heal; we wait
We love; we are patient, like the Spirit
(S) Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John
The Epistles of Paul
The Revelation of John
But no Gospel of the Magdelene
(MM) I was left out of the Bible
But I don’t need that validation
The Divine Sofia, the Spirit of Wisdom spoke
Her voice is true… I am content with love
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore, Sharp Little Pencil