UNDER THE HARSH
Sleeping on a park bench
Living in a Chevy beater
Winter covers each with
an unwanted blanket of snow
Downtown, shoppers
pay them no mind; while
searching for deep discounts,
they discount these folks
Tonight, under starlight that
sets the frost a-twinkle with
thousands of crystals, remember
Jesus is sleeping under cardboard
not too far from here…
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Michael Crawford sings this song with heart, with understanding. May we all remember the homeless during this HOHOHO season of frenzied gift giving, as we fatten our credit card balances buying crap made by child slave labor in China.
For ABC Wednesday, the letter U. Pick one: Underfed, Underemployed, Under stress, Under cardboard boxes. Also “in the margins” at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads and Poets United. Peace, Amy
FIRST FROST
Crystal-stained
window pane
shimm’ring in the night
Glimpse of shine
only mine
from the street lamplight
Frigid blast
Squealing past
tightly puttied sills
Stoke the fire
coax the pyre
Pray the chill it kills
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For dverse, ManicDdaily (Karin Gustafson) asked us to write about something unexpected. After our long, drought-ridden, hellish summer, imagine my surprise to awaken at 2 am and see frost on the window. There’s something about the first frost, especially when it is backlit. Bring on the flannel! Break out the silk underwear (not the sexy kind – the overalls that keep me warm)!
Also to be posted on Poets United, my poetic pot-bellied stove… Peace and hot cocoa, Amy
Irony In The Air
Summer’s here, or so it seems.
Shining sun – the stuff of dreams.
Odd Wisconsin irony,
not a trace of snow to see.
Last year, we were steeped in snow,
flannel-clad from head to toe.
Now I wear a sad array
of summer stuff not packed away…
Ensemble matching? No, I fear,
but T-shirt’s message does ring clear:
As war grows on despite our rants,
Lennon’s pic: “Give peace a chance!”
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For ABC Wednesday, brought to you by the letter “I.”
The Balancing Act of Life
Hovering before a feeder full of suet,
the hummingbird’s wings beat so fast,,
she appears motionless. Magic.
Nearby, a birdhouse swivels on its chain
in the autumn breeze, abandoned for
the rapidly approaching winter.
The bees are past “Last Call,” so drunk
they’ll sting anything. They dawdle near
the last bloom of a faded coral rose in
a pointless quest for long-gone nectar.
Geese overheard, perfectly aligned,
their kazoo music a comic horn section.
Yet, behold their strength in numbers,
their impeccable, strategic teamwork.
They know travail; they seek only survival.
The eloquent, full-throated conversation of
lark and sparrow, cuckoo and crow
owl and cricket, long since stifled by
the reality of the season. One misses
their conversation over morning coffee
or evening cabernet. Now we watch the mist
mask and reveal, mask and reveal the Moon,
pee-a-boo in the night sky.
We’ll take in the birdfeeders soon, our fingers
deftly cleaning all crevices before storage for Spring.
We will look for the few creatures of the deep freeze:
Deer, gratefully nibbling apples we left on the
low-hanging branches, rabbits scavenging
what they can, squirrels twirling in the trees.
This balancing act of life serves as show and
as life lesson: Hard work and beauty are equals
in Nature. Symmetry. The dance. The point.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For The Sunday Whirl, with thanks to Brenda for the Wordle: Bees, balance, cleaning, coral, point, strength, finger, motionless, eloquent, rapidly, swivel, safety. Also at my poetic home away from home, Poets United.
The first is for Sensational Haiku Wednesday (yeah, it’s Saturday, I know!), and the second was written for my friend Kelly’s blog but never posted. This is also posted at my poetic hearth, Poets United.
Peace be with you all. Amy
FOR SENSATIONAL HAIKU WEDNESDAY: “Anticipation” theme
Red leaf shivering
ready to drop to fertile ground
Life cycle complete
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FOR EVERYONE, so they may understand what some call “crazy.”
THE OTHER-MINDED
I am one of the “other-minded”
We filter truth through a lens tinted by our mood
or lit by the fullest moon
to create art, to fulfill our promise
Who else will capture the infinite loneliness
of the slab mattress in the suicide ward?
The blurred visions of panic in a grocery store,
surrounded by cardboard people
blithely stuffing their carts with Cocoa Puffs?
Who else will bear witness to
the undulation of one’s naked self in a mirror,
mesmerized by the sheer loveliness reflected?
Who but we have days we celebrate
for their sheer boredom
Walking the fields of home
while ceiling-gazing in midcity?
We endure darkness, yet we bathe in
the glorious light that follows
We stumble, then venture down a path
the “sane” would never dare.
Our words, our artwork,
our songs and poems
breathe both bleakness and dizzying victories;
improbable stories of
real people they’ll think we made up
(if only it were so…)
We are labeled misfit toys
but we dance on the edge
of a rolling coin
that never comes to rest
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
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!
TWOFER! Because yesterday’s poem was such an unbelievable bummer (for me, too), I have two nice ones today. First, I’m flexing some haiku muscle for Sensational Haiku Wednesday; second, Three Word Wednesday gave us: Adapt, Glide, and Lie. These are also posted at my poetry haven, Poets United. Peace to all, Amy
FOR SENSATIONAL HAIKU WEDNESDAY
Falling Leaves (Haiku)
Leaves color, then drop
as though staying green so long
has left them weary.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
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FOR THREE WORD WEDNESDAY (prompt words in bold)
Heaven Sent
Pregnant teen Kit, big-time cocaine-addicted.
She knew that the baby’d be wholly afflicted
She tried to clean up; she didn’t abort;
but habits and lies and recovery fell short.
She put down her pipe just in time for E.R.
A stranger took pity, drove her there in his car.
He cell-phoned his wife, who rushed down for the birth
(To have their own, they’d have moved heaven and earth.)
Kit wouldn’t nurse baby, pleaded, “Don’t wanna see him.”
The couple, still there, never once thought to flee him.
A tough road ahead for a tough little guy:
a whole lot of tears, in purging the high.
A nurse saw the two, screaming babe in her arms;
“Maybe-Mom” glided over, her touch was the charm.
One look and they knew, so completely enrapt,
that they would not only adopt, but adapt.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
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
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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
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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
This came out of two conversations: One with Nimue, and another with Leif. Both are “outside the box” poets, each with a dark and a light side. I want to acknowledge them both for conversations we have had that resulted in this poem. Please check out their sites! Also at Poets United, naturally! Amy
Tree Of My Soul
for Nimue and Leif
Half oak
Half willow
Bark soft as leather
or tough as truth
Fruit hangs from its branches
Mangoes, apples, peaches
but no olives
nor any fruit that requires
pickling or processing
Only fruits that are
picked from the twigs
devoured warm in the sun
juice running down my chin
like good sex
Watch for the spring sprout
see it birthed into a bud
wait, wait until
the time is right
the fruit is ripe
Only then is my soul
content
calm
fed
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sharp Little Pencil 