Artwork © Amy Barlow Liberatore
Wisconsin Winter Weather
Weather winces
Wisconsinites, whether
winkled or wrinkled
Why would we winter
where winds’re
wild, wooly?
Woven, wistful warmth within
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, as well as ABC Wednesday – this week, of course, the letter W! “Amy Bawwo Wiberatowe”
Apalachin
No, it’s not Appalachia
It’s Apalachin
Like apple achin’
In the sticks, with
cows munchin’ grass
over back of Lisa’s house
Kitty caught a mouse
and laid it under
the rear tire of our car
The guts went squishin’
I’m wishin’ Beth was there
She’s one for the messy stuff
There was a mob meeting
years ago, the REAL mob,
the Mafia, on the other side
of town and police raided them
for tax stuff, I dunno, but
Mom says we got a reputation
The Klan was real busy
two towns over, and Mom said
they are fools who wear
dunce caps and I think she’s
right because she’s always right
and you better know that…
Otherwise, you get The Squint
or get called “Sadie” or
worst of all, really, is when
she says, “T’ain’t funny, McGee,”
(some old radio show) and then
you know you’re in trouble, kiddo
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
dverse called for poems that are uniquely ours. This is I, the queen of lofty speech, speaking from the front yard of 55 Brookside Avenue, Apalachin, New York, in 1962. (I was already scared of cameras, afraid they’d flash; early sign of PTSD.) The only thing I couldn’t get in was Mom’s Midwestern way of saying “roots” and “roof” with a short “oo.”
Also “in the margins” at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads and Poets United. Peace, Amy
The Advent of the Adventure
The story goes that
a baby was born and
placed in bin where
the animals fed
Shepherds were awed
Mystics from the East
gave him expensive gifts
(but nothing practical)
The time leading
up to this event
is for considering
whether we’re ready
Ready to go on
the adventure once more
To seek justice, love kindness,
and walk humbly with our God
Ready to hear stories
from the man with the plan
who ran afoul of authorities
and, like Mandela, was
a prisoner of conscience
Unlike Mandela, he was
executed by the State in
the most humiliating way
Are we ready to follow the star?
Are we ready to see the babe?
Most importantly, ask yourself
the question Christmas poses:
Are you so focused on the baby
that you forget the lessons of
the man? If you max your cards
this Advent, the answer is “yes”
Give to charity in his name
Give to a homeless person in his name
Give thanks to God in his name
Give your heart to pursuing justice
…in his name
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For Imaginary Garden With Real Toads’ Open Link Monday. Now that “Black Friday” and all that mishigoss has passed us by, I still wonder whether the secular Christmas has more meaning for people than the actual event. I don’t care that Jesus was probably born in July; I don’t “need” an immaculate conception or miracles. And I love Winter Solstice celebrations. But I do take my marching orders from Jesus!
Peace, Amy
UNDER THE HARSH
Sleeping on a park bench
Living in a Chevy beater
Winter covers each with
an unwanted blanket of snow
Downtown, shoppers
pay them no mind; while
searching for deep discounts,
they discount these folks
Tonight, under starlight that
sets the frost a-twinkle with
thousands of crystals, remember
Jesus is sleeping under cardboard
not too far from here…
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Michael Crawford sings this song with heart, with understanding. May we all remember the homeless during this HOHOHO season of frenzied gift giving, as we fatten our credit card balances buying crap made by child slave labor in China.
For ABC Wednesday, the letter U. Pick one: Underfed, Underemployed, Under stress, Under cardboard boxes. Also “in the margins” at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads and Poets United. Peace, Amy
The weasly guy from “Mad Men” and
Demi Moore in drag?! Pass the cranberry sauce!
ThanksGIVing?
Here’s to my Mayflower descendants who
enslaved indigenous people.
Here’s to Wrong-Way Columbus, who
first allowed them to show how to grow food.
(Then he enslaved them.)
Here’s to Columbus Day, which
celebrates the schmuck above.
Of course, there’s always
another side of the Judas coin.
It’s a great day to spend with family,
gorging on food and getting tipsy.
It’s a great day to celebrate the
American version of football.
But this year, 2013, we have
a special treat in store:
Retail workers ripped from their
families to work on pre-Black Friday.
Come to think of it, just about
everything Thanksgiving is BS…
especially what they taught us in school,
that “the Pilgrims” (um, the Settlers)
and the “Indians” (who were here first)
dined together and had lots of fun.
Want to see fun? Take a trip to a local
reservation. And I don’t mean the casino…
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
At this, the 11th hour, I implore you, DON’T GO SHOPPING ON THANKSGIVING! It’s not fair to the employees. Of course, Lex and I will boycott all the Big Box stores putting this hokum over on America… but at least let the stores be empty on a national holiday. How about it?
And take a moment to pray for “American Indians,” whatever the hell that means. Just because they have casinos doesn’t mean squat – the guys at the top make all the money, after they pay off their Malaysian bakers for funding the building. And that takes years!
For ABC Wednesday, “T,” and “in the margins” at Poets United and Imaginary Garden with Real Toads. With hope, Amy
Handling the Truth
(for Euro-Americans)
Bought and sold at auction
Everyday transactions
Fractionally human, they said, if that
In those “golden olden days,”
African lives were cheap
From deep in jungles, sold
by bribed tribal chiefs or
simply rounded up like
fleet and feisty animals
This nation brutalized
an entire civilization
If Anglos never feel
the slash of the lash…
If whites will not dare
to share the shame of slavery
After all these years
the pain of the past endures
and we won’t even watch the film
How can we dare say we care
about rancid, ruthless racism
still rampant in America?
Buy the ticket, damn it
(You already saw “Hunger Games”)
Or was Jack Nicholson right?
“You can’t HANDLE the truth”
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
I have seen “12 Years a Slave” TWICE. Second time, to hold a friend’s hand and discuss the movie. Lex and I were breathless, angry, ashamed… especially that this film, the most important film ever made about the enslavement and unimaginable treatment of African peoples at the hands of “white” slavers, is tanking at the box office. People have said, “It’s too heavy,” or even, “I go to movies to be entertained, not educated.” Really?! What the hell do they mean? If people went through this shit, we owe it to them to at least watch a dramatization of the true story.
I know it’s tough. Especially when everyone is engorging themselves like tics on Thanksgiving turkey and bloating their credit card debt on Black Friday. But I implore you, GO SEE THIS FILM. We all need to face the facts.
This is for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads (protest poem) and Poets United’s Poetry Pantry. Peace, Amy
Peace, the Unknown Commodity
Our world has been at war
since the eighth decade. EIGHTH
Constant bickering plus weapons
equals humans either dead or “victorious”
Where is the victory in bloody children
lying in the street next to their dead mothers?
Will it take violent protest to end war?
That would be quite ironic, but
marching hasn’t done it; even Lennon’s
music was decried as hippie drivel
All we are saying is give peace a chance
And yet the war machine goes on
A peaceful world takes LOVE and respect
A peaceful world means children go to school
A peaceful world means women are not battered
and adults are given meaningful work
In a peaceful world, the Halliburton crew
and Blackwater would have spare time.
Perhaps they could work on clean energy
and free health care for Americans instead
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Image courtesy of WikiMedia Commons
I know I wrote more about war than peace, but let’s face it, folks. As long as Stale Pale Males (emphasis on stale, as in same old crap) are large and in charge of the military/industrial complex; as long as we are dependent on fossil fuels; and, of course, as long as there are “American Interests” abroad, we will never know peace. “American Interests” is a catch phrase that does not mean people – it means Starbucks in Baghdad and McDonald’s in every nation! Beware the sound byte.
This is for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads’ “Blog 4 Peace” highlight. I am so proud to be a “Toad” and to take part in this wonderful cause. I’m also posting this for dverse Open Mic Tuesday. Peace, Amy
Halloween for Black Kitty (Six Sentence Stories)
Image Courtesy of WikiCommons
I don’t understand my peoples today. Kids runnin round in scary cloths and bloody faces like movies. Mommy stackin lots and lots of candy by front door that I always try to get out of. Daddy stabbin a bit orange ball and takin out guts those smell worse than the litter box. Mommy say peoples crool to black cats on Hell Or Ween but not Calico Stripums or Siamese Diva. Now I gotta sit alone in back room watchin Animal Planet but they showin lions makin babies so that OK.
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Josie Two Shoes has a new Thursday challenge, Six Sentence Stories. Thanks, Josie, for the invite to participate.
This post is dedicated to the memory of our late black cat, Missy. She was a hoot and always told great stories, this being one I had to write from memory… I should have transcribed all her narratives!
Also “in the margins” at my poetic House of Horrors, Imaginary Garden With Real Toads. Peace and Happy dia de los muertes, Amy
Sharp Little Pencil 