© Chelsea Bednar, used by permission for this posting only
Broken
Shards of a gender
Picture-imperfect
Fragments of the feminine
Lacking evident wisdom
Made up for a mag
The desperate sound of
duller-colored cardinals
all together, singing a battered blues
Altogether shattered
Smatterings of health care
elusive as dust bunnies,
scattered like crumbs under
the White Man’s table
We long for freedom from
beauty measured in
facial symmetry, not in
the output of our brains
The Divine Sofia calls
The Painted Diva says
leave a message
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Artistic Interpretations with Margaret, at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, wanted an ekphrastic piece based on the artwork of the insanely talented Chelsea Bednar, who granted us permission to use her work for this prompt. The challenge was to speak of how the piece made you feel, rather than inhabiting the subject.
This piece spoke to me of women’s declining civil rights today: Denied access to safe, doctor-performed abortion; often refused birth control because “the pharmacy owner doesn’t believe in it.” We are half the species, under attack, including the late, lamented ERA. Look at the picture: The Pale Stale Males took a hammer to this mirror image. Keep your lamps trimmed and burning, sisters. The time is coming when… Peace, Amy
Five BSODs (Blue Screens of Death, so, grammatically speaking, perhaps it’s BSsOD) in two days, and my computer was out for the weekend… and then some. So glad to be back.
About comments… I am hopelessly behind in replying! I’ll peruse and visit you all, but if I ever hope to get a chapbook together (and most people don’t read responses anyway, which is fine), I will take a break on the last few poems and start fresh. If anyone has a comment on that policy, please let me know. Hey, take it from me: Don’t hold back; tell me what you REALLY feel!
A peaceful Independence Day to my US friends, and prayers for folks in Colorado who are suffering with wildfires, as well as all who are in the grip of this heat wave. Peace, Amy
SNAPSHOTS OF THEN
Mom’s crimson best, one sister
colors the other’s lips with the delicacy of Monet
Big sis hanging from
the branch of an apple tree
Small moments
The ways of children
A gesture, a look
Laughter caught in
grimaces of belly-aching joy
Little sis tries to puff powder
on the older girl, whose skin
needs no embellishment
but whose soul craves it
These moments
This places, close to heaven
A wink, a giggle, teasing
A kick under the table
An unforeseen hug from behind
They stand still for the Easter snapshot
Shoulders almost touching, like troops
The Christmas tree, stringing red lights
Middle sis rearranging tinsel “until it’s perfect”
Brief moments caught
by the old Ansco camera
Sweet, looking back
Who knew? Who could guess
how far apart they would grow?
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For dverse Open Mic Night – and for Poets United’s Poetry Pantry.
Sharp Little Pencil 