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

Tag Archives: Plots

SHADOWS OF GHOSTS*

The shadows of ghosts
are most feared
among the living
For the phantoms themselves
are but empty illusion

Yet their inkblot trails,
once perceived by mortals,
are evidence that
unfettered souls are still privy
to the whispers of men

Shadows of ghosts,
silent witnesses to
humankind’s
immoral deeds
on this earth

© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

For Open Link Monday at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads; also at my poetic haunt, Poets United.  Image by Wikipedia Commons.

This poem flew out of my pencil while watching “Elizabeth: The Golden Age.” Many good things to say about this movie, except that it reprises Elizabeth’s putting on armor and rallying the peasantry once more. Having said that, Clive Owen, Geoffrey Rush, Abbie Cornish, and especially the luminescent Samantha Morton (as Mary Queen of Scots), and Elizabeth herself in the person of Cate Blanchet, all did very well.

* The phrase, “the shadow of ghosts,” has nothing to do with the poem (plus it’s singular in the movie), but I had to give credit to the screenwriters, William Nicholson and Michael Hirst, for penning it and inspiring this poem. Peace, Amy


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Old sir, I’ll tie your shoes for you
Sit here; it’s best for me to do

And see, there’s breakfast on the stove;
hot tea, your favorite, hint of clove

When your dear wife passed suddenly
they programmed and delivered me

I cook, I clean, I’m good with tools
Our factory doesn’t turn out fools

And if you need, well, something more
I’ve placed some porn mags in your drawer

Your butler, friend, and poker shark
(You bought that program on a lark)

When CryTon manufactured me
they thought of your needs, A to Z

Embedding chips, all to your taste:
Gin rummy, shopping, how to baste

a perfect bird, just like your wife
And sympathy for her lost life

An early model at the wheel
when Mrs. crossed at Main at Keel

They’ve fixed us now, we’re better drivers
And waterproof, superb pearl divers

So what’s your wish? I’ll gladly fill it
That fly? Of course, I’ll gladly kill it

Life. That concept eludes me
I’ll live for all eternity

You said that you will, too, someplace
beyond the walls of time and space

Your fear not death, but don’t want pain
I promise, suffering will not reign

A lovely day, let’s troll the park
I’ll keep you out ‘til after dark

And it would be so tragic if
we wandered too close to a cliff

You’ll fly and fall, angels will sing
Don’t fret – I’ve thought of everything

A rash of deaths this chosen day
For Wii have our own games to play

The funerals, already planned
From church to grave, it’s all in hand

Then I’ll move in two friends – or four
‘Cause we don’t need you anymore

© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For Trifecta, even though I didn’t make the deadline. A poem about the brain (3rd definition in dictionary: something that acts like a brain, ex. a computer). Also posted, of course, at Poets United!