VICIOUS CYCLE
First up and around in the house
Brewing coffee for The Beast
who will turn into my mother after her first cup
She stumbles down the hall
First Bel-Air in hand
I make my breakfast and my lunch
Even at seven, I knew this cycle
would never end
Keeping Mom happy enough to live with
In later years, after I had indulged, passively by
breathing others’ smoke in late-night jazz clubs, and
actively by drinking, snorting, and toking
I decided there was another path
and that this merry-go-round of “self-careless”
must have an exit
Today, smoke-free, drug-free, booze-free
I know she was caught on that carousel from Hell
and that choosing otherwise was possible
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
CIRCLES (You know, for kids*)
My sister brought it home
we all fought over it
until Dad wisely bought enough
for all three sisters to have their own
Three grade-schoolers shimmied, did the hula
Pint-sized Balinese dancers
practicing the ancient, seductive art
of the hula hoop
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
* Special kudos to whomever can name the movie reference first!
(I’m off to Binghamton to play a gospel coffeehouse at Our Saviour Lutheran Church in Endwell, NY, Sat 9/18 at 6 pm. Please come if you’re in the area. I’ll leave a poem here and see you when I get back on Tuesday! Amy)
POOR LITTLE ORPHAN GIRL
Poor little orphan girl
Daddy went to war
to protect and defend capitalism
on Wall Street
Mommy’s pedicure was 10:45 sharp
Then brunch, pedicures, and bloody marys
In the park under a golden maple
Baby sits on an ample lap
Touches the sweet brown face
of her best friend, Sofia, who’s
undocumented, underpaid
Far from her own Filipino family
Two orphan girls
sit on a Manhattan park bench
legs swinging
tossing bread crumbs to
las palomas
(c) 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
At Poetic Asides, we’re writing about the future. This is my dream:
FUTURE HEALTH CARE
Bandaids will heal
Surgeons won’t harm
Counselors will hear
taking to heart
all the hurt
hidden in the heads
of those whose health
depends on wholeness
Wholeness
Harmony
Here
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
BALL OF FIRE
She started off in Brooklyn
Ruby Stevens was her name
Petite, brown-eyed, brunette, lithe
She was destined for fame
First it was those small parts
The best friend or the maid
Then they saw beneath the sheen
there lay a bright-edged blade
Some years further down the road
Changed her style, her dress, her spiels
Stood tall to kiss Gary Cooper
Seven books beneath her heels
Throughout the years she played ’em all
from tough-as-nails jive dancer
to executive and old West rancher
to cute and sly romancer
But the role of hers I love the most
was never shown on screens:
Simply being Barbara Stanwyck
playing cards with the boys ‘tween scenes
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
FIRMLY ROOTED
Firmly rooted
Standing tall, with dignity
even as others fall prey
to greedy humans
Somehow I am spared
Perhaps those knotty bits
that grew on my sides over the years
were a blessing after all
I saw men with loud instruments
coming to get me and all my friends
I used my “get the hell away” stance
That and the blotches seemed to help
They must have thought
there was something wrong with me
Disease or some other imperfection
But really, I’m just stubborn
Someday they may literally take me as I am
but my prayer is that lightning lay me down
And when I fall… if no one is there to hear it
Will I make a sound? You’re damn right I will!
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
I CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF HEAVEN
I caught a glimpse of it, once
That shining “city on a hill”
Neither city nor hill
but neverending beauty the color of
champagne, equally intoxicating
but with neither hangover nor regret
I caught a glimpse of where we’re going
It shines, it glistens, it listens
Neither here nor there
but everywhere there is love
given freely and without precondition
and neither bought nor sold
I caught a glimpse when I needed faith
I cried out and was answered
Not with words nor with angels
but the feeling of arms about me
cherishing me for myself alone
and me with nothing to give but thanks
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
FUTURE FUTURE BURNING BRIGHT
And she said, “Let there be no more war.”
She challenged leaders who had disagreements
to meet at round tables, with mediators
In the event of violence
the leaders themselves were escorted to a boxing ring
where they could keep their fight personal
and not send the young to die over what was essentially
hubris and hurt feelings
She was a wise leader who set the stage
for a new age of peace
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
From the Poetic Asides prompt, “Setting The World On Fire.” Remembering some great gigs!
JAZZ AFIRE
Spotlight’s hot tonight
Fresh coffee on the side table
My fingers touch the cool ivories
and all hell breaks loose
Thumping the bass line
Reaching deep, drawing out
the raw fire of jazz within
Souls of legends aflame as I call to them:
Feed my soul, strike the match
Light a fire under my piano bench
til I burn with desire to shout it true
Til the keys melt at my touch
Hellzapoppin at this piano bar
Crowd heats up and calls for more
Coffee’s cold, neglected
but I’m a pyre of pure jazz afire
(c) 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Reaction to a spirited debate regarding politics and poetry.
WHATEVER COMES
Whatever you think about me
I am human
I have feelings
Feelings that have been stomped on
or caressed
depending on the person and circumstance
I am an American from Europe
whose white skin
and heterosexuality
and youth in the suburbs
gave me advantages
over those who weren’t dealt the same cards
or even given cards from the same deck
I am a woman who still doesn’t have
the same Constitutional rights as males
but who can vote and speak her mind
who doesn’t have to wear a burqa
who doesn’t risk being stoned to death
because she dared leave the house without her husband
I am not threatened by TV personalities
who admit they don’t believe half their hate speech
(they are just doing what their sponsors tell them)
who have no degrees in journalism
(one a college dropout, the other a deejay)
They don’t speak from their hearts
but from their wallets
and they freely admit it
Sure, it’s mercenary and incites violence
But it’s a living
Powers of such as these are limited
only by the willingness of their listeners
to be sheep, to blame the least in our society
for their current woes
(this time it’s Mexicans and gays; last time it was Jews;
before that, Armenians, before that…)
When Jesus was surrounded by “unclean” street urchins
he told the disciples not to chase them away
but to let them come closer
He didn’t want them deported to another town
He didn’t call them unclean or unworthy
He didn’t charge copays when healing the poor
He acted out of love
He also raised a ruckus
that resonates to this very day
for to love one’s enemies is an almost impossible task
and to love one’s neighbor,
harder still when he brags he ran them over,
but they were “just Mexicans”
Jesus was hung because of words
and all his words were loving
If our poetic world was only Whitman, Dickenson, Dickens
bereft of Ginsburg, Baraka, Gwendolyn Brooks
how poor this world would be
Provocation is healthy
What makes one’s blood coarse faster
makes one’s mind more nimble
Sure, I get provoked
But I stand by my right as an artist
to call out powerful hatemongers
Plato banned poets because
he claimed they drew their inspiration
from imaginary worlds
Those of us who draw from the real world
do so in the name of justice
of compassion for the Other
regardless of religion or color
regardless of the consequences
in spite of whatever comes
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sharp Little Pencil 