Poetic Asides put out a call for welcoming poems. Apropos, since Robert and his wife Tammy welcomed their daughter Hannah Marie into the world this week! I used a form for the first time, one which builds from one syllable to ten (and in this case, down again); however, I cannot remember what the form is called, sorry. This poem is also at my poetic home, Poets United. Peace, Amy
The Mallards
I
welcome
distraction,
unexpected
moments in life:
A sudden coffee jones,
his surprise kiss on my neck
leading to unscheduled bliss.
Moonlit nights, quiet patio talks…
And every day, two ducks who waddle by.
Mallards come and go as they please,
making their way to the pond,
diving for daily meals.
Ducks are good neighbors,
unflappable.
Perfect mates,
souls at
peace.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sunday Scribblings asked for poems about “opportunity.” This is actually destined to be a country=tinged song when I finish it, but the beginning seems made for the prompt. Also, Three Word Wednesday used the words Grip, Thread, and Prefer; this is my second poem for that prompt! Click on the poetry site links to read many more poets.
Also found at my poetic home, Poets United. Peace to you all, Amy
FOR SUNDAY SCRIBBLINGS
That’s How it Goes
Here’s how it goes, once in a while
The boy takes a shine to the girl with the smile
They waltz ’round the dance floor, and he takes a dare:
Says the sun was created to shine on her hair…
And her eyes seem to say what her heart already knows,
and that’s how it goes.
(c) 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
FOR THREE WORD WEDNESDAY:
Open Mic (haiku)
Caught in the grip of
uncertainty’s clenched fist
Sweat pearls on her brow
At the podium,
words threaded into poems…
Fight or flight? She thinks:
“I’d prefer to flee
but I’m already up here.”
Breathe. Exhale. Give out.
(c) 2011 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
RENDER SURRENDER
Give it up
Push it away
that ego, whispering “me me me”
(like a bad soprano warming up)
Let it go
Open your mind
Listen to the echo
(the voice that says the world revolves around you)
Let it in
Breathe it in
Creation, the Creator, who loves you
(and only wants you to give love back to the world)
Come full stop
Close your eyes
Let love catch up to you
(you were running too fast anyway)
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
This is in response to a challenge from We Write Poems (make up a prompt/form that may be used in the future. I call this Formulaic: 3 + (x) = Poem) and my poetic home, Poets United.
Women’s Work
(a cento, from Carl Sandburg’s “Working Girls”)
over the way, the women who know each one the
lunches wrapped in newspapers under their arms
so here are always the others, those who have been
going, so many with a peach bloom of young years
arms that passed around their waists and the fingers
woman life I feel a wonder about where it is all
on the downtown streets
that played in their hair
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore
From We Write Poems, a prompt for a cento: Another poet’s writing, taking only certain lines and rearranging them to form a new poem. These lines are from my favorite poet, Carl Sandburg, and his poem, “Working Girls.” Also posted at my poetic home, Poets United, where you can find a plethora of amazing poets on their right sidebar, constantly updating with links.
Amending this post because I was a week ahead on the prompt… “spontaneity” got the best of me, ironic, no? The actual prompt was “Addiction.”
Stageheights
Living in limelight
Not fueled by ego, rather
talent to amuse
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore
————————
Whoops
Precious sucking babe
Never will she know, born of
Spontaneity
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore
Written for Sensational Haiku Wednesday for the prompt… Spontaneity! Also posted at my heart, my home – Poets United.
Poetic Asides had an interesting challenge: “A World Without ____________.” Yeah, go figure how this one came to mind (wink)! Amy
A World Without Gay Men (what a bore)
No Dr. Kildare
Nor “Night and Day”
No “Pillow Talk”
‘cause Rock was gay
No Sistine Chapel
Virtruvian Man
No Mona Lisa
No inventions grand
No Karloff’s Monster
(James Whale’s work of art)
No Benjamin Britten
Johnny Mathis, my heart
Gershwin, Sweet
Embraceable You,
the Man I Love
is a classic, it’s true
Greg Louganis’
diving perfection
Leonard Bernstein’s
symphonic direction
The list could go on
til night turns to day
but what a dull world
without men born that way
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Also posted at my NaPoWriMo home, Writer’s Island, and at Poets United.
Absolutely true story, and managed to write it in Poetic Asides’ 10×10 form as well. My cousin Gregg and I are a lot alike: Complete unimpressed by celebrity, and able to get off a one-liner without cracking up (until later). You go, cuzzy!
Carradine vs. Laughlin (0-1)
You’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead
But this one’s too funny to go untold
David Carradine, in his “Kung Fu” days
Came to a rest’rant my cousin Gregg ran
Carradine went barefoot a lot back then
and Gregg said, “Sorry, no shoes, no service”
All puffed up, the star went on to protest
“Don’t you know who I am? Any bistro
would be glad to serve me, barefoot or not!”
Gregg deadpanned, “I suggest you go find one.”
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Also posted at Writer’s Island, my NaPoWriMo home, and at Poetic Asides, plus, as always, Poets United.
Off-prompt today… soothing thoughts from the sickbed of yours truly… and it’s written in one of the few forms I have been able to capture with any sense of satisfaction – the shadorma. Peace, Amy
Late At Night (a shadorma)
Late at night
A fine resting place
‘neath the stars
on soft grass
bathed in moonlight still spilling
silver on the field
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
This is also published at my Poem A Day home, Writer’s Island, and at Poets United.
Sharp Little Pencil 