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

Tag Archives: Models

© Chelsea Bednar, used by permission for this posting only


Shards of a gender
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

Babes in Boyland

Modeling’s a groove
Tyra taught us to mooooove
and stretch and maybe
we’d get in a video on TV

Clothes fitted to each curve
The more verve you show
the more photogs you blow
The more rich guys you know
the more places you go

You fight the urge
to binge and purge
Pout you lips in a kiss
It all comes down to this:

I’m the seventh blonde-
wigged nurse in pure Bond-
girl form or maybe
a Robert Palmer baby

Justin’s lip-synching
when he’s not drinking
Oh, wait, he’s winking

© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

NaPoWriMo #4, for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, which asked us to write to a clip of Justin Timberlake mouthing the words to a Killers song. Watch the clip, see what I wrote, and then follow this LINK back to the Garden to read others’ work!

Riley turned me on to Top Model, and the more this little proto-Feminist watched, the more I was fascinated and repelled by the lengths to which women will debase themselves to become models, Barbies in search of their Dream House. It’s a fleeting career at best, and these girls undergo breast augmentation, booty augmentation, lip augmentation… everything except self-esteem augmentation. Riley could have been a child model, but I wouldn’t have it. Glad to say, Tyra has proved me right! Peace, Amy