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

Tag Archives: Romance

Bring Back My Heart, copyright details below

The prompt at Poets United’s Thursday Think Tank is “Music.” Hey, what an opportunity, right?
Here is a song from my CD, Jazz Baby Hits Her Stride.
You can hear me sing it if you click on the link above.
Hope you enjoy this little love song, recorded at the studio of my dear friend Jon Randel. Peace, Amy

Bring Back My Heart

Thank you for the visit, it really was sublime
To catch up on the news after all this time
I packed in such a hurry, some things got left behind
So if you wouldn’t mind…

My toothbrush and my dental floss, I left them on the sink
And a lone Peruvian earring, in the living room, I think
Some pictures of my daughter on a table by the door
And my lingerie we left scattered on the floor

It’s really quite the laundry list
But there’s one more thing I missed

Bring back my heart, return it to me
At the first convenient opportunity
It had just come off the shelf
And I had planned to keep it for myself

I didn’t leave it in the bedroom – I’m not blasé
That’s not the place where hearts are given away
Perhaps it was the restaurant where you took my hand
And told me life had not turned out exactly as you’d planned

You asked me whether I had hopes to share my life again
And I told you God had plans for me, but wouldn’t tell me when
My heart was mine alone
And until we kissed, I thought it had turned to stone

Bring back my heart, we’ll see what’s in store
Make my office gossip when you show up at the door
Bring back my heart, but until you do
I know it’s safe with you

So put it in your pocket, keep it close
Hold it with the treasures you love most
And when you return it, here is what I’ll do:

I will scent it with roses, wrap it in lace
Lay it in the lining of a golden case
And I will give it right back to you

© 2004 Words and Music by Amy Barlow Liberatore
Published by Beehat Baby Music, all rights reserved


Let’s Get Lost

Fingers interlaced
Candles placed, optimum glow,
because we know:

Sex may be the province
of novice lovers
(all sweat and victory)

Lasting love meanders
Loses track
Edges slowly toward lava

Sighs
…and stays

© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
(Inspired by my wonderful husband Lex – 15 years this April!)

For Trifecta: Poem in exactly 33 words, using “Lost” in the title but not within the 33-word poem. A special Hell has been created for poets who refer to the TV show “Lost,” in any way, shape, or form.
Also hangin’ with my crowd at Poets United in the right-hand column.


First off, great news! Fred Weintraub, while promoting his book co-written by David Fields and edited by yours truly, added my blog link to his page! Scroll down to the bottom right and see my picture and link there!
http://www.fredweintraub.com/index.php?page=book

I’m a bit slow at responding to comments because I visit each and every one of you who leave word with me… so be patient!  Or to borrow from an old bit, “Be gentle… it’s my 385th time!”

You know it’s getting near Valentine’s Day when I get all sloppy about long-ago unrequited love… old feelings sometimes give birth to new poems. Still happy with the valentine I have, my Lex! Peace, Amy

I’ve Been There

Tell me how you feel
I’m your sounding board
I’ll play devil’s advocate
‘case there’s something you’ve ignored

She was too lovely to be real
And you loved her, yes, it’s true
But the way you looked at her
is the way I look at you

I’ve been there, too many times
Trying to find the rhythm in the rhymes
I’ve been there, tongue hanging out
Heart on my sleeve, and foolish, no doubt

You can’t understand why she
can’t be the one to adore you
I can’t understand why you
can’t see what’s right here before you

Tell me how you feel
I’ll be here forever
But will I tell you
how I feel? Probably never…

© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Also posted at my poetic hearth and home, Poets United


LAKESIDE CONVERSATION

An autumn breeze caressed my cheek.
A moment with no words to speak
aloud, but softly, with great care:
“The end of this; we know it’s there.”

The carefree days, each careful kiss;
I know that life holds more than this
for me,” I sighed, and waited for
response from him.  Then, this he swore:

“I’ll like you ‘til my dying day.
Please be my friend, although we’ll lay
apart, and in the arms of others.”
This is the love time never smothers:

The gift of letting passion go
because true friendship deems it so.

© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

Poetic Bloomings was the first to inspire me after my break, with a lovely photo by Walt of lovers lounging by the lake. Please click HERE to see it, as I am unable to download from the site. Thanks, Marie and Walt! Also at Poets United, the poetry collective that rocks! Peace to all, and I’m SO relieved to be back! Amy


Poetic Bloomings (a newer prompt site – check it out!) asked for poems using the most irresistible prompt: “There’s a moon out tonight.” Aaaaaah. Amy

La Bella Luna

Grab a jacket and take my hand, darlin’.
Tonight, Monona’s lakeside is calling out to us.
La bella luna want to bathe all lovers
in beams of reflected light.

Here by the shore, slight chill of the autumn to come,
we’ll stroll, serenaded by so many crickets
and the soft paddle of ducks, looking for a late-night snack.

Though full-faced Old Man looms above, silverfoiled and shining,
the lightning bugs are not overwhelmed.
Blinking gold, ruby, emerald… just out of reach,
yet so near, teasing us, same as they did
when we were kids lying in field of wild grasses.

City lights are low, revealing buckets of stars
spilled in horoscope formations.
We needn’t prove our love beneath this panorama.
We are no longer teenagers, needing it now, now.
The silver moon lingers in streaks of our hair
as we walk and whisper, my hand in your jacket,
you arm slung around my shoulder as we make our way home.

© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

DISCLAIMER: Actually, we live near the shore of Lake Mendota; Monona is to the north of our skinny stretch of the East Side of Madison, WI. I felt the name “Monona” was a bit more poetic. Apologies to all Tenney Park neighbors!


Laundromat

Wasted the night before,
I’d screwed the chance
to do my dirty laundry.

Doobie ashes on the floor
Discretion cracked open,
my values in a quandary.

“Don’t do strangers,”
was always my creed,
but he’d been on my couch

‘cause he possessed dangers
highlighting my need…
Granite jaw, killer slouch.

Now, in desperation,
I’m at the Rinse ‘n’ Spin
‘til cleansed, my clothes are done.

Cheap soil eradication
but it won’t remove sin…
A revolution!  Fridays are fun!

© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For the Sunday Whirl, with thanks to Brenda; Wordle words are in bold. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. Strangers were never in my romantic repertoire! Amy


Three prompts, three poems.  Enjoy, Amy

FOR SENSATIONAL HAIKU WEDNESDAY (prompt: Home)

Our Big Transatlantic Move

In tropics too long…
Gazing at Autumn’s palette
we know we are home.

© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

——————————————————————-

FOR ONE SINGLE IMPRESSION (prompt: Silence)

Silence

Deeply drowsy,
almost asleep,
I am awakened by
silence.

My silence possesses
a certain charisma.
Mood music melts my mind
in the key of D-flat.

As one’s eye might
perceive a heavy haze
on a lazy afternoon,
so I hear my silence.

Whispers, wishes.
Haunting harmonics
pitched aloft like angels, but
with a hint of humanity.

© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

————————————————————
FOR POETS UNITED (prompt: Third letter of your first name. And no, my first name is not “Sharp”!)

Y Not?

Yawningly waking.
Yearning aching to make love.
Yanking off your T-shirt,
purring, giggling, yowling…

Yelling, “Yes! yes! yes!”
After all these years,
you and I are youngas our first “yowza”!

© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For Lex, with love


Christopher Street
(for Jeffery, Jimmy, and thousands more)

Remember the good old days when
the word “immune” didn’t start with “auto”?
When a wine stain was something
he hand-washed off his shirt?

When, drenched with sweat,
two men would lie in bed all day,
not because they were sick…
they were just lolling in love.

Stonewall came and Gay Pride grew
‘til the storm clouds massed and
lightning struck down too many men
in the prime of their lives.

Christopher Street no longer radiates
the joy we knew back then, nor does
the Village hold the singular charm of
young gay lovers stealing a kiss.

Who would have thought a virus could
change our world in such a visceral way,
and never return us to yesterday?
Look back, remember, smile, cry, and trudge on.

© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

For Three Word Wednesday – Drench, Immune, Radiate.  Also on Poets United… Pray for a cure!  Amy


Our First Actual Date

I fumble pouring beer from the pitcher
We banter:  Work, our daily bread, church
His gentle way assures me that
he doesn’t expect this date to end up in bed

We’re long-time friends, he respects
my role as a single mother, and my kid likes him
Then a simple glance, and we realize
we’re meant for each other

© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

Dedicated to my husband and partner of almost 14 years, Lex.
For Three Word Wednesday (words in bold), and the heartbeat my collective work, Poets United.


From A Wordling Whirl of Sundays, Brenda Warren’s creation.  Prompt words in bold.  Also at my poetry resting and nesting place, Poets United. Peace to all, Amy

Renata’s Scarves

Renata’s scarves hold exotic stories.
One reveals a temple, columns casting shadow on light.

A gossamer veil with sparks in its threads
etches a pattern that glints when held to the lamp.

But the most telling of all:
A tangled sky-blue sheath, slit down the center,
where his knife cut clear to her thighbone.

Demons and diamonds,
serpents and stardust.

© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil