Dark Voyage
Another dark alley
Why aren’t there ever any
light alleys? she quirks to herself
She waits for the next john to be sexed
Pawns her body for a fix
Used to be kicks
First the hash pipe
Upgraded to Opium 5.0
The real deal, the needle
Heroin
Looks like a smear of poop on foil but
once it’s lit, it’s hit and
she isn’t worth shit
Heroin, a nightmare cannibal picnic
sliding down the clever beanstalk
into the tar pits for a long slick sick soak
Heroin. She’s nodding, her mind
smolders with visions conjured from
the greasy plank decks of the U.S.S. Sheol
She forgets the mess under her dress and
presses her mind against a wall of sounds
When she wakes, her stomach will ache
She’ll john once more to score
to black it out
to empty the chasm
already scraped bare
The addict: A mind forever voyaging
through strange seas of thought, alone
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Image: Wikipedia Commons
Kerry at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads wanted us to write using a line from a William Wordsworth poem, since today would have been his 243rd birthday. The Wordsworth line I chose was, “A mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.” This is how I see many addicts: isolated, caught in a foreign place (even if it’s his/her home town), and always wondering. The “aloneness” of the line grabbed me by the ear and said, “Listen!” And so I did. And then I picked up my pencil. This is also for the Poetry Pantry at Poets United… proud to be a member! Peace, Amy
Mama Zen at Real Toads asked for a 20-word synopsis of the election results; ABC Wednesday asked for poems about the letter Q. Short and sweet today… very sweet, in fact! Also at my poetic polling place, Poets United.
Quick Recap of Quirky Election
Some clues
to amuse:
No horses, only gardens.
Women keep reproductive freedom.
Neither of the First Couple dye their hair
But there’s still war.
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
NOTE: Before you all think I’ve lost my marbles, this is in response to Fireblossom’s absolutely brill challenge at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads: She wants us to B.S. her. Couldn’t resist this subject, and hope I’m not too late in posting it. I truly hope the Tea Partiers understand the irony, but I’m starting to lose hope that they want to learn anything new or think outside the Fox Box…Peace, Amy
Ladies First
Ann Romney. A First Lady we can embrace.
She has real values: Family, her husband, subservience, being Mom and Grandma.
Ann, so blonde, even in her 60s! Real Americans can relate to her.
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
PS I must admit, I didn’t realize there was not a word limit… confused with Trifecta… guess now I have to go off and look for those marbles after all, huh? Hee hee, A.
TODAY (a shadorma)
It’s today
Came upon me fast
Heard a bird
Opened my eyes
Surprise! Before I blink twice
It’s over
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (doncha love that name?), the suggestion was to reach into your jar of short scribbles, pick out a slip (or the back of an envelope, or a cocktail napkin, or the back of a church announcement!), and expand into a poem – surprise, a shadorma from one who generally eschews form. Peace, Amy
“Extreme” by Jaime Clark, used by permission. *
SCREWED OVER AGAIN (a shadorma)
She seems fine
Beneath the surface
heartbroken
and punctured
He dug deep in his toolbox
Used piercing hardware
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Imaginary Garden with Read Toads asked for a shadorma based on one of many photos by talented photographer Jaime Clark, who graciously allowed all toads (!) to use on our blogs. Hooray for sharing! I’ll return the favor with a link to Jaime’s site below. This is, as always, also posted at my poetic woodshop, Poets United. Peace, Amy
* View more of Jaime’s magnificent photography HERE AT HER SITE.
BLISSFUL BALM
O, the wondrous healing balm
comforting confectionery consolation
Whether this wellspring of pain
came from a broken romance
a broken promise
or a broken nail
All is made whole and well
by the soothing, sensual touch
of chocolate upon one’s tongue
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, a little something sweet. No ranting today…
Also at the poetic bakery where I needn’t press my nose against the glass, but simply walk in, Poets United… proud to be a member! Peace, Amy
After a weekend of seeing our brilliant youth and their adult mentors in the church’s summer musical, then ministering on Sunday morning with the Edge Band, you’d think I’d be all tuckered out. In truth, it’s those busy weekends that sometimes set me behind the 8-ball of posting to last week’s prompts! Ye,t last night, I was up until 3 writing to a prompt from Joseph Harker (see last post, an ekphrastic poem), bitten by that late-night manic muse.
Here are two poems written for three sites. Enjoy, as I bask in cool air here in Wisconsin, an increasing rarity these days.
FOR ABC AND REAL TOADS:
Depression Hates Sunlight
Cloistered in my corner
Life passes by bay windows
Fresh air beckons
Big sis is on her horse today
Rides her farm, inspects the hives
Middle sis building a new home in the woods
I should be peeking at a wedding at the Gardens
Instead, birds taunt from the broad tree out back
now aglow in the burnt orange hues of sunset
Frozen in place, in space, I remain
tethered to an uneasy chair
Hiding from rays of healing
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For ABC Wednesday. This, written for the letter D, is about my Big D, Depression. Also for The poem’s imagery comes from Teresa of Razzamadazzle, hosting the prompt at Imaginary Garden With Read Toads. If you’d like to see the images from which this poem arises, please click HERE, as I didn’t have time to write Teresa for permission to reproduce them on my blog… believe me, they are stunning photos. If you’d like to read more of Teresa’s work, try here: Razzamadazzle.
FOR THREE WORD WEDNESDAY:
Empty Nest
A mother nurses her newborn
Emotion wells within me; my aging womb falters
I long to touch the face of my only child
even as she is grown, gone to graze in new pastures
Later, in the night sky
even stars mock me as they glimmerglow,
each seems a crystalline soul out of reach
None will glow within my empty nest.
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Image from Breastfeeding.com. I strongly support moms who nurse their babies in public. We have enough “Wardrobe Malfunctions” on TV; why are folks repulsed by what Mary did for her baby, a ritual as old as time, and always practiced tastefully, lightly covered. I also know some women aren’t lucky enough to experience this bonding, and my heart goes out to them.
For Three Word Wednesday (yeah, I’m running behind on this Monday morning!), giving us the words Emotion, Falter, and Touch. Thanks to Thom at 3WW for hosting this wonderful weekly challenge!
Peace be with you all. Amy
Corner Shelf Onstage
Young: First round on me
Stay ‘til last call
Partied hard,
some success
Now: Wiser,
ready for rowdiness, revolution
Dichotomy:
Shy, depressed or
Manic, obsessed with
peace, poetry, politics,
my past
And always singing…
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For the whimsically titled Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, the challenge was to write a poem about yourself in 35 words or less. Peace, and please do come to the Garden – you’ll meet interesting poets and photographers and other artists!
LIFE WITHOUT LIMITS
Were I granted
life without limits
I would bind hatred,
tangle it in silk threads
all shades of red, gold, green
and send it hurtling
into space, no trace
of meanness left to feel.
I would surround
a golden box of pure love
with small fans
pointed up at
wind turbines
and set it free in
breezes of sweet thoughts
strong enough to
surround the earth and,
if the silk balloon’s helium should fail,
all hatred would drift into space
and be forgotten.
Were I granted
life without limits,
I’d press the edge of
the invisible envelope
until
peace
would
reign.
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For Sunday Scribblings, which asked us to envision “no limits,” and for Three Word Wednesday: Tangle, Shade, and Feel. Also for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, in honor of Nelson Mandela’s 94th birthday. Well done, good servant of humankind, and good health to you, sir. Peace, Amy
Heart.
Muscle.
Pump.
Can be defeated by eating “to your heart’s desire,”
yet your heart desires it not,
only your want to fill
that empty spot.
Heart.
Symbol.
Red.
A child hangs his Valentine on the fridge,
only to find the dog
thought it interesting;
she nuzzled it down, chewed it to bits.
He runs crying to Mom.
Heart.
Soul.
Passion.
She now grants access carefully. Her heart
has been broken before,
but it healed, gained resilience.
The scars may show,
but she will live
to love again.
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For Imaginary Garden With Real Toads: We were asked to post the song that helps us through our heartbreaks and write a poem about it. This prompt caught me by the tear ducts.
The YouTube track is, of course, Rickie Lee Jones (not “Ricky,” spelled wrong on the title page). Tom Waits wrote this song for her, and she sang it every night as the encore during her first national tour. I went to this song for solace time and again, in the years before Lex. She is a treasure trove of writing talent on her own, but here is where an angel’s voice meets the song the actual writer could never sing to great effect.
Sharp Little Pencil 