Amy Barlow Liberatore… stories of lost years, wild times, mental variety, faith, and lots of jazz

Tag Archives: Marques Bovre

BOYCOTT Monsanto (especially RoundUp)

Honeybees have my heart
They toil and twirl
Gather and gossip
Buzz and build
Hive and jive

Dandelions earn my smile
They play and paint
Persevere and pop
Sway and spread
Grow and blow
(..seeds on neighbors’
lawns and then man,
are you in trouble
because EVERYone
wants a super double
pristine green lawn)

Dandelions and
honeybees are
best friends! The
flower provides a bit
of power to the
insect in early Spring
when (if one were to
inspect one’s garden)
there are no other
blooms to help
the bees boom.

Don’t RoundUp!
Spare the dandelion.
Don’t buy Monsanto!
They spray craven
substances that can
blow like snow over
fences into defenseless
organic farms.

You like life on this planet?
You can’t do it without bees.
You CAN do it without Monsanto.

© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons, freely shared by photographer. View original and license HERE.

For a song by my late friend Marques Bovre about Dandelions, click the player. Hope it works!

I didn’t know until recently that the lovely yellows popping up so early in spring are also practically the only source of bits of pollen for the honeybee, helping it to survive until the pollen-rich flowers bloom. That goes for bees cultivated by keepers as well as wild honeybees.

Without honeybees, OUR species would all be gone within weeks. THAT is how crucial bees are to our environment. So even if you like green, green grass, hold off cutting the lawn until the first dandelions wilt. And never EVER use anything from Monsanto. The chemical glyphosol, main component in RoundUp, has been found in breast milk!

Let the dandelions’ freak flags fly!  Thanks to Poets United for the prompt, BOYCOTT.  Man, they have my number, huh?  Amy

LION-HEARTED MAN (R.I.P. Marques Bovre)

From a distance
(when first I spied him
setting up his gear in church)
I thought he was an old man

He walked with a cane
Could barely negotiate
setting up his guitar
but his daughter helped

The closer I got to Marques
the clearer the view and
I knew this was a man
not only young, but vital

His face shined, his eyes
danced, and when he sang
it was coming from an old soul
with a kid’s sense of fun

The band played many of
his songs, the heart of
the ministry, seeds
sown for the Gospel

But it wasn’t a cult of
personality; Marques
was too humble for that
He said he was a servant

Then came the diagnosis
Rumors of tumors, he
even gave them names:
Hobgoblin and The Creep

Hoped to see spring flowers
He loved Dandelions and
made me love them too
He struggled but always smiled

We lost him this week
A lion-hearted man who
knew who he was, whose he was
and where he was going

We had many months to prepare
for this day, this awful news
The truth is: You can prepare
for someone to be dying

but you can’t prepare for
when they are actually dead
Marques, brother, father, friend
We’ll sing your songs to the end

© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

Marques Bovre, singer, guitarist, composer, artist-in-residence at Lake Edge United Church of Christ’s “Worship at the Edge,” died this week at the age of 50.

There have been numerous fundraisers to help pay for his cancer treatments over the past year or so, which brings me back to the fundamental question: Why should ANYONE have to have fundraisers to pay for CEOs to have private planes and yacht trips to Bermuda? Health care is a right. Now, Marques would be the first to say he was no better than anyone else in this world (in fact, on his last CD, “Nashville Dandelion,” there was one song called, “On The Body Of Christ, I Am The A**hole.” That’s his wry sense of humor, and we loved him for it).

Please visit Marques’ site HERE. There are his songs, his story. He never proselytized, and yet a more fervent believer I never knew.  If you like what you hear, BUY SOME MUSIC. Tracy still has medical bills to cover, in the midst of her grief. It will mean a lot to the whole family, and to me.

Rest in peace, brother.  This poem will be at dverse Open Mic Night and at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads (man, Marques would have dug that title), where the garden is open for any and all new poems.  Love, Amy