ABC Wednesday, brought to you by the letter “G.” Silly and fun – what I imagine Blanche Laughlin would be if she were alive today – glued to my cousin Gregg’s computer! Amy
Grandma Googles
Goodness gracious,
Grandma’s gone Google!
Grinning before Greggie’s gizmo,
a grand gadabout without
the gas-guzzling Greyhound .
Grannie’s grey but full of ginger;
fingers glide with gusto as she
gets to tour the Guggenheim
in its glory and grandeur, gushing,
“Gracias, ye gods of gigabytes!”
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Dallying on Writer’s Island is a pursuit every poet should indulge in. This week’s theme, “Improvise.” Yeah, like I’ve never done that! Amy
Fill In The Blank (Writer’s Island, “Improvise”)
So I arrive at my gig, hauling my rig all by myself.
I snag my stocking on a stack of speakers,
speaking in a pitch only a poodle could discern, “!!#*$!!”
Into the Ladies’ cause I don’t wanna start late,
I rummage through the rucksack that
passes for my purse.
On my thigh, one big hole in my black tights…
a dollop of whipped cream on an otherwise
dark-chocolate-frosted plane.
Dredging up a Sharpie, I fill in the blank, then
sketch in the run, the pen climbing
up and down a ladder.
I’ll deal with scrubbing it off tomorrow;
for now, it’s beg, borrow, or steal my way to the mic
with as much dignity as stinky ink can afford me.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
EN-credible! I managed to combine two – count ’em – two prompts in one poem. Others do this all the time; however, I hadn’t had the inspiration until Three Word Wednesday and ABC Wednesday threw a nice, juicy grapefruit over the plate for me.
Three Word Wednesday gave us Blink, Kind, and Occasion; ABC concentrated on the letter E. Hence the bits in BOLD. Enjoy, and be sure to click on the links above to check out the takes of my fellow poets! Amy
The Ecstasy of Agony
An eclectic gathering, the occasion being
Ethelyn’s engagement to Egbert
(AKA Egghead behind his back)
Ethelyn, an exquisite, educated person.
What possessed her to choose entanglement
of the permanent kind to this egomaniac?
Savvier than we envisioned,
she eventually emptied her life of his eccentricities;
in the blink of an eye, single once more.
Then along came Edmund the entomologist…
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
I couldn’t resist this prompt from We Write Poems. Then I’m definitely stopping until February! The prompt was to revise an old poem, and this one was reworked for my chapbook, Dance Groove Funhouse (shameless plug: See right column to order a copy. I could use the encouragement! There’s nothing in there your grandma couldn’t read.)
I had to rework it because it had the “F” word in it (as well as “shit”) and I decided the first was too harsh and the second could be replaced with the infinitely funnier word, “crap” – even though I’m a salty dame, I was considering my readers and felt that this slight bowdlerism was apropos. Also, I kept the line about the airgun even though I’m a pacifist, because this is about feelings, not what you’d really do. Finally, I broke up the days more clearly.
What came out was, to me and to many readers, a better poem altogether. Let me know what you think! Amy
THE LARK
SATURDAY MORNING
Lazing after lush, lazy sleep I am
awakened by a lark
perched beneath my bedroom window
serenading me of the day to come
Thank you, God, for this blessing
the wakeup call from heaven
Birdsong on a Saturday morning
LATE SUNDAY NIGHT
Working 9-5
Long into the night, I tossed and turned 3 a.m.
again
The alarm will grant me 6:45
Then it starts
That stinking bird
Sackful of crap that will undoubtedly be dispensed
on my windshield
If only I had
an airgun
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Previously published in the chapbook, Dance Groove Funhouse
At Writer’s Island, we were given a one-word prompt: embark. I couldn’t help myself, honest! Amy
EM BARKS
The dog next door is named Emily
but her folks just call her Em
She’s friendly, happy, friendly
but her barking sounds like phlegm
propelled from asthmatic lungs
onto the driveway each day
When she barks, mucus is flung
The goop flies every which way
She’s a sweetly adorable pug
but her bark/slopping never stops
The neighbors are pitching in
for a bib and some doggie cough drops
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
We are moving from the Buffalo area to Wisconsin, as Lex has been called to a new church. Lake Edge UCC offers Lex new challenges, and the Madison area is alive with cultural possibilities. Only sad part, leaving St. Paul’s UCC, Lex’s first church, and Attica friends who have become family to us… Peace, Amy
MOVING
All day I lay paralyzed
Panic-stricken by the massive undertaking
of a major move
The task is like a ton of marble
meant to be chiseled
reshaped into shippable form
The more I chip away
the farther the flotsam flies
Last chance to cherish tsotchke before unpacking again
Now the room is a frenzy of
forgotten details, floating memories
Taunting bytes of mislaid input
Cable movers – nail down days
Valium for the cat, pet-friendly motels
Electric stop here electric start there
Change car rental ALL insurance
Ensuring my mental collapse, or at least
a surging synapse
Graph paper at the ready, grid lines map
our new home – orderly oragami
I’m so anal it’s damned convenient for the movers
Around 4 pm I am clueless in clutter
cup of decaf by my side and
comforting cat on my lap
Then a skitch of that endless marble flicks my face
Embedding itself in my ear, burrowing
into my brain. The cycle begins again
And who the hell moves from snowy cold Buffalo
to blizzard-ridden frigid Wisconsin
And in mid-January, yet?
I’m blaming God, who is laughing Her butt off in Heaven
After all, She issued Lex’s call to ministry, and now She chortles,
“I’ll get you, my pretty… and your little cat, too!”
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
At Sunday Scribblings, the call was for the theme “manifesto.” This seems apropos as we approach the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am killer-diller of all manifesto proclamation days… you know what I’m talking about: NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS!
MANIFESTO DESTINY
No matter what the resolution
I always messed it up
I confess, I’m mistress of the
revolution against New Year’s promises
all broken by Valentine’s Day
That year of the grapefruit diet
I fainted in the street
Lack of protein, said the doctor
Thus began the evolution of my desire
to quash sad manifestos
Friends who “will quit smoking on January first”
Suck ‘em up Dec. 31
Like a junkie determined to
wrench the monkey from his back
but keeps the tourniquet as a memento
Gyms are packed that first week of the year
Then one by one, they peel off
petals of a fading rose
that shrivels for lack of water
or that packet of crap you’re supposed to dissolve in the vase
Let’s face it.
New Year’s resolutions are
useless self-sabotage
Setting yourself up for failure
before the hangover even kicks in
(c) 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Well, I did manage to sneak on Poetic Asides (click on today’s prompt to see others’ work), as well as Jingle and Sunday Scribblings this week. So in the midst of my move, here is my take on Robert’s prompt: RECEIPT. Apropos, no? Peace, Amy
MEMORANDUM
TO: Poetic Asides and my blogging buddies
RE: Receipt of my intent to change locales
To Poetic Asides, to all I have befriended
No matter where I am, my journey with you
has not ended, nor will it
But God has called my Pastor Lex to a new place
To do a “new thing,” as is his calling
From cold, snowy Attica
To colder, blistering Madison, WI
Moving in Mid-January:
This shows that God possesses not only a
great sense of humor
But a well-developed sense of irony as well
(Jews knew that already)
While I shall remain scarce until
the move is completed, I will check in
from time to time. PA is my “fix” when
life mixes turmoil with tinsel
and thunder with a lightening of spirit
May you all have a blessed Christmas
A peaceful Hanukkah (where the heck is my dreidel?)
…and a happy Festuvus (for the rest of us)
No matter what your reason for celebrating this season
pray for peace above all
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Meaning no disrespect to The Reason For The Season; simply pointing out that most folks have all but forgotten why they celebrate Christmas in the first place. My one cynical Christmas poem, dedicated to the true memory of that feisty, loving, prophetic man who started out a babe in rags.
HAVE YOURSELF A MERRY
Have yourself a merry little American Christmas
where mall-bound mauling marauding shoppers claw for
the latest imported Chinese toys
lead-laced crap for girls and boys
O little town of Bethlehem
creeping with hordes of consumers
No visions of Visa bills dancing in their heads
They’re masters of their MasterCards
Mary, did you know your baby boy
has turned into an excuse for excess
for booming business, parental stress
the backbone of a spineless economy
Joy to the world! The Lord & Taylor window
has a “holiday display” with Santa and reindeer
Deck the hall with Hallmarks from family and friends
and other folks we forget about the rest of the year
A day to plow through a thousand presents
overturn overstuffed stockings
stuff ourselves til we crash in front of
the new 52-inch plasma TV we bought on credit
It’s a wonderful life
Crosby Christmas never ceases
but for God’s sake
please don’t mention Jesus
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
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