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

Tag Archives: Mother’s Day

Yes, it’s Mother’s Day on MY planet, too! Riley is deep into finals, doing so well in art school. If it were not for her going to full term, I might see this day as just a Sunday to miss Charlotte, my own mother, and mourn the two babies lost before Riley. Today, it’s a TWOFER!

So first up, Poets United’s Poetry Pantry wanted posts for moms. Second, Poetic Bloomings called for computer-generated lists of anagrams of our own name – and a poem written with ONLY those words that appeared on the list. Well, “Liberatore” just about blue-screened my computer, so it’s my birth name I used.


Mama, Mommy, Mom
Amy and Laura, one day old web
tell me story ’bout
going to Sleepytown
and then we gonna
say prayers.
I love you, Mama.

can I join the Brownies?
can we go over my
spelling words?
they want me to play
softball – maybe pitch.
Can you –
You’re gonna be an
assistant coach?
Wow, Mommy,
you are so busy
but you always have
time for me.
You rock!

just a text for now,
I’m in the middle of finals,
but I’ll call you tomorrow.
Happy Mother’s Day,
dear mother, I love you
more than chocolate!

Now matter what name Riley called me,
I was always there for her.
And I always will be.
That’s the blessing of being a mother.

© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Image from Amy’s collection, “Riley, one day old”


FOR POETIC BLOOMINGS  (anagram poem)

All in My Name
(Amy Louise Barlow)

I’m a bluesy limbo mouse
Alias, lousy bellow yowl

Bosomy ruby allure, yum
My morals: slim, wily, muley

© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

Lance at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog (yes, there’s a picture of Fight Club on the home page, but it’s all good fun) wanted folks to write poems, 100 wds, to particular songs he’d picked out. On this Mother’s Day, I HAD to write a paean to my own fave dance song by one of the great bands of the 80s. Listen and imagine me and Riley barefoot on the dance floor, with Lex watching us, rolling his eyes…! Can’t think of a better Mother’s Day post for my girl, who made this particular holiday one worth celebrating when she was born in ’88. Love you, Riles.



Punch out the time clock and
pile in the back of the Chrysler, baby
Don’t need GPS, and I don’t mean maybe

Half a mile away you hear the
Pull up SCREECH my God this is a
But the B52s are locked and loaded
and the room sounds like something just exploded it goes

We shimmy the shit off our shoes
We all shimmy sharp at the Shack

If we’re gonna waste our time
we’re gonna waste it well
waste it wildly, hell bent for leather

Gonna bop ’til we drop at the Shack

© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil