Passion for Stinkin’ Plants That Will Die Anyway
84 degrees in the shade and I
drag my tooth-just-extracted self
to the garden store so all the
folks at church will see that
I am really making an effort
on the parsonage to… why
am I here? Oh, yeah, to buy plants
One purple, something pink, posy, daisy,
varietals, variegated, annuals, manually
cartsweatpushed to checkout
Then to the smoldering car
Four windows down and still
sweat pours through cleavage
pooling in my belly button
Home, quick, dig, plant, hose
A real Choo-Choo-Charlie effort
or is it “I think I can…?”
I start stripping at the door,
long line of socks, shorts,
shirt, until
(still in underwear)
I drench clenching teeth
in cold water shower.
Was it all a mirage?
No, merely stupidity
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Fireblossom at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads wanted our passions. Well, the point behind this was more like Protestant guilt to try and “homey up” our new pastoral residence, but hey, the passion is what you make of it! Amy
The amazing Joseph Harker of Naming Constellations asked for a personal hymn (or hymns), starting with something we have never heard a hymn written about… it’s a long prompt, so check it out HERE. These are the fruits of my labors, my three hymns in the heart of a Sunday night. I will also post this on Tuesday at dverse Open Mic Night and at Poets United. Thanks again, Joseph. Peace, Amy
Hymn to Her
Trapped in the overgrown patch
called my garden. Titan prairie grasses
tickle the screens, engulf potted plants.
I, the prairie avenger, armed with
scissors, hacksaw, kneepads, and gloves
shape, tame, make symmetry of chaos
forgetting that grasses once ran wild here
long before my aim of a forced, polite posyland.
Blessed are those who walk in Her overgrown path.
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Shrine
This is my shrine
It’s wholly mine
A framed reproduction of Kinkaide’s kitschy two-story clapboard
in muted tones, Photoshopped with images of prostitutes. The
ice cream truck parked out front says “Gone Fishing”;
silhouetted against a shade, Mr. Softee is obviously hard.
This is my shrine
It’s wholly mine
This may seem odd for inclusion in my confusion of a
work space, but, with other talisman… a rainbow glass fish,
pads and pencils, Riley at seven – little hippie in Lennon glasses,
all these stir my imagination, invite the spirit in to dwell within
this sinner.
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Give Me But One Chance
Give me but one chance
to teach another to dance
To look upon others
not as “them” but as brothers
Give me a servant’s hands
fulfilling needs, not commands
Help me to hold close those
whose ribs I can feel ‘neath clothes
Keep me awake, aware
to go where others never dare
Keep me just off kilter
so I possess no societal filter
And thus remind all humankind
our common threads are the ties that bind
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Garden of Weeds
It can start with anything
A feather caught in a curling freefall
That cardinal pecking at my window
The random assemblage of spices
jumbled on the shelf – one tumbles me
awake, ablaze with cardamom coincidence
Mom’s spirit sharing coffee with me
telling stories from where she now resides
in heaven, and thisclose
Even bad memories stir me
dredge, sift, filtering through
my bones, seeping to the nerves
A prophet once told me that
love is everywhere
So is truth
So is pain
So is amazement
So is amusement
So is romance
So is anger…
despair …
relief
So it’s time
to reach for my journal
and sprout another plant
for my garden of weeds
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For Poetic Bloomings, better late than never! Marie and Walt called for poems about SEEDS… seeds to plant, to nurture; seeds of poetry and other art… the beginning little “oomph” that pushes one to action.
Photo from Vishwasaha on WordPress. The PROPHET is named Marques Bovre, who also composed a lovely song called “Dandelion.” He’s been through cancer threatment and half the known world is praying for him. He’s on the upswing, but add him to YOUR list if you’re the praying type. Peace, Amy
Sharp Little Pencil 