Bring Back My Heart, copyright details below
The prompt at Poets United’s Thursday Think Tank is “Music.” Hey, what an opportunity, right?
Here is a song from my CD, Jazz Baby Hits Her Stride.
You can hear me sing it if you click on the link above.
Hope you enjoy this little love song, recorded at the studio of my dear friend Jon Randel. Peace, Amy
Bring Back My Heart
Thank you for the visit, it really was sublime
To catch up on the news after all this time
I packed in such a hurry, some things got left behind
So if you wouldn’t mind…
My toothbrush and my dental floss, I left them on the sink
And a lone Peruvian earring, in the living room, I think
Some pictures of my daughter on a table by the door
And my lingerie we left scattered on the floor
It’s really quite the laundry list
But there’s one more thing I missed
Bring back my heart, return it to me
At the first convenient opportunity
It had just come off the shelf
And I had planned to keep it for myself
I didn’t leave it in the bedroom – I’m not blasé
That’s not the place where hearts are given away
Perhaps it was the restaurant where you took my hand
And told me life had not turned out exactly as you’d planned
You asked me whether I had hopes to share my life again
And I told you God had plans for me, but wouldn’t tell me when
My heart was mine alone
And until we kissed, I thought it had turned to stone
Bring back my heart, we’ll see what’s in store
Make my office gossip when you show up at the door
Bring back my heart, but until you do
I know it’s safe with you
So put it in your pocket, keep it close
Hold it with the treasures you love most
And when you return it, here is what I’ll do:
I will scent it with roses, wrap it in lace
Lay it in the lining of a golden case
And I will give it right back to you
© 2004 Words and Music by Amy Barlow Liberatore
Published by Beehat Baby Music, all rights reserved
Let’s Get Lost
Fingers interlaced
Candles placed, optimum glow,
because we know:
Sex may be the province
of novice lovers
(all sweat and victory)
Lasting love meanders
Loses track
Edges slowly toward lava
Sighs
…and stays
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
(Inspired by my wonderful husband Lex – 15 years this April!)
For Trifecta: Poem in exactly 33 words, using “Lost” in the title but not within the 33-word poem. A special Hell has been created for poets who refer to the TV show “Lost,” in any way, shape, or form.
Also hangin’ with my crowd at Poets United in the right-hand column.
Home At Last
Cuddled under my favorite purple afghan,
(“When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple”)
contemplating the months just passed;
dreaming of the year to come…
How did it happen that we landed in Madison?
These people, who see me not as troublesome,
but a graying sprite with her feet solidly on earth
(even as her mind lags, or revs – or does somersaults).
A faith community of solid citizens
who know that worship is not some game
of collecting brownie points with God,
because God always grades on a curve.
Our choir sings with gusto.
The bell choir rings sweetly.
The praise band brings it,
makes the Spirit spring within us.
Was it luck that landed me here in this state
of Badgers and Packers, a hundred varieties
of cheese, and even more kinds of beer? This
hearty stew of politics and action and reaction,
as we fly toward the audacious goal of
booting the Guv back to his Brothers Koch?
Students who actually live downtown near
the university? Poetry readings and buskers?
What brought me here? I’m in heaven, yet all I did
was follow the love of my life to a new church,
a new ministry. (Wither thou goest, I shall go…)
It wasn’t luck – it was God. And it was love.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Brenda Warren’s Sunday Whirl gave us a dozen words to weave into a poem: year, fly, earth, happen, citizen, luck, states, dream, trouble, purple, lag, and game. Check out The Whirl and give it a try!
My Favorite Bouquet
Buy me no roses, I begged him.
Spare me the sight of their bloom.
They wither and die,
and depress such as I,
but I do so adore their perfume!
Two things – a vial of rose essence,
The other, a sunrise sweet kiss.
I love a nice gift,
one that gives me a lift:
Love, your self is my ultimate bliss.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Just because we’ve been married 13 years doesn’t mean I don’t love Lex more every day. May our Creator grant us the gift of growing old together. Peace, Amy
For Poets United, my poetic hearth and home.
At ABC Wednesday, we’re still on the letter “M.” Also, as always, posting to Writer’s Island, so bop over to both sites and see what other poets are doing! Peace during this holy week, Amy
Mmmmmmmms
Snuggling as we watch the sunset together from the patio
Hoisting a Wisconsin ale with new friends
The crumbly crunch of fresh shortbread
A quick call to my best friend that turns in to two hours of
trying to right the wrongs of the world (while taking time to
trash Joan Rivers’ new show)
Occupying small space in a roomy chair,
scribbling poetry as I ponder life oozing by on State Street
My first bite of Barb’s Angel Cake
How the wick crackles when first I touch match to candle and
knowing the sweet mysteries that will unfold when he
sneaks into the room
So many moments that make me say,
“Mmmmmm, life is good”
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
At Poetic Asides, the prompt was, Celebrate. Could not think of a better celebration than the day two of my dearest friends were united in love and dignity. Amy
Celebrate Today
(For Christopher Kennedy and Jimmy Ricketts)
Christopher and Jimmy
both in tuxes, Dapper Dans.
Not the groomsmen,
but the grooms.
I’m running around in
a dress tight as Saran Wrap
(and just as pliable).
My heels click click click busy busy…
So light the candles!
Bring on the guests!
Family and friends;
Amy’s taking requests
at the baby grand with candelabrum
As I sing, I meditate on the wax
slowly slinking down the tapers.
This is real romance.
The pastor was beautiful;
the buffet, sublime.
Every state should have gay marriage –
their catering businesses would thrive.
I sing the song I wrote for their wedding,
“The Best I Have To Give.”
Then Jimmy yells, “Do the Santa song!”
I grin and launch in.
It’s my rendezvous with Kris Kringle
Naughty but nice. The glasses clink
and the newlyweds share a little peck.
Nothing gross like at straight weddings.
A tasteful affair from beginning to end,
all couples dancing, bubbles in the air.
I remember Mom saying that true love
is marrying your best friend. Amen.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
This is another double prompt, courtesy of two sites from Poets United: Poetry Tow Truck (my first time there) wanted a poem based on the beginning and ending words (in caps), two lines from “At the Doll Hospital” by Robin Ekiss (from the book The Mansion of Happiness) which, when read vertically, form a full sentence. That’s the best I can do in the way of explanation… just go with it!
Also on the Poets United page, I found Sepia Saturday, and these both blend to fit the poem that follows (sorry, I can’t figure out how to recreate the picture here, but if you follow the link you’ll see it there!). Enjoy. Amy
Blanche and Bill
AMONG the regulars at the café, WHERE
SOphie and Ruth frequently stopped, their friend WILL
(MANY girls fancied him) met Ruth’s sister, Blanche. SHE,
EYES big and brown, was considered a real FIND.
FIXED them up, Sophie did, bless HER.
IN June the Blanche and Bill forever sealed their TENDERNESS.
GLASS covers their wedding portrait, where they look a bit grim,
but they laughed the same laugh and loved like no couple since.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil Continue reading
At Jingle Poetry, we were asked to write about AMBITIONS. Having just moved to a new city and state (state of mind as well as geographical), I’m ALL ambition this week! Enjoy, Amy (PS What a month to move to Madison, WI! Super Bowl champs, but most importantly – no one was seriously injured. Amen.)
Making it Home
Boxes unpacked
Stuff sorta stored
Cat comfortably curled in
his new niche
Even the throw rugs and
coffee paraphernalia
have found their place
Pictures yet to hang,
but that takes
time
thoughtful placement
and permission from the wall
to be pierced by a nail
But until tonight,
as we snuggled in the delicious intimacy
of true lovers,
jigsaw pieces in a perfect fit,
this apartment was not Home.
(c) 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
This came from a “wordle,” a group of words you can form into a block of art; to create one yourself, click HERE.
Thanks to whichever poet’s blog contained the block (and I apologize that you remain anonymous, I was all over the place today). I can’t reproduce it here, but all the words from the block are in bold. Enjoy! Amy
FIRST TIME (wordle)
Smoldering like an ash-pit and
lush with promise, but
clunky teenage moves
His one hand, awake, cupped my breast
The other was passed out under my back
then resurfaced to hold my head for
a quick nibble at that well-hung boy
The First Time
Sharp Little Pencil 