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

Tag Archives: The Road

Utah pink
Isn’t this prehistorically fantastic? A sci-fi movie buff’s dream!

Westward into the Sun

Chuggin our old used one
cross country, west of west
Buffalo to LA; I know
how these solo road trips
settle my nettled head

Riley-bound; she needs
the wheels but so chill
she was willin to wait
for a not-so-late model
sun-bleached redmobile

Utah. At first, a burst
of tumbled weeds and
You can have this, Brigham
Gradually it blooms with
looming, wise granite cliffs

as if the earth began here
I see the turtle’s back, legend
of indigenous peoples and
remember we are but riders
on this weathered, whirling rock

In my sights, a magic range
Undeniably and completely pink
I think, where is passage?
Answer: Men blew a hole
straight through, a stark arch

How rude, I say aloud
Typical of humans to blast
a magnificent thing of beauty
in order to accommodate
RVs, SUVs, and I, who

would have driven many miles
to go around this mound
of natural wonder. Now I
understand why the Mormons
saw this as paradise on earth

© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

dverse Poets wanted poems about the road. This was one of the best trips in my life; on my Bucket List, actually, to make a cross-country trip. Stayed with friends, saw my girl. Happy time. Image courtesy of WikiMedia Commons.  Peace, Amy


And So, He Goes
(for our traveling friend, George)

Can there be
any better place
than just around the bend?

Goodbye once again
His car crammed with stuff,
fairly brimming with

all the absolute necessities
plus a few luxuries- an old quilt
to nestle in, dreamgazing

Sojourning toward Someday
Will it end, this road,
this exquisite journey?

Or will he fall
Touch down softly
where peace and love are waiting?

Where he feels
alive, vital at last
At present, tense – but future…

Don’t give up on
these outrageous dreams
of belonging somewhere as unique as you are

© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

For Three Word Wednesday (Fall, Absolute, Nestle), and posted at The Poetry Pantry, Poets United.

Our friend George (buddy since high school) has been traveling for so long, it’s almost a game, like Where’s Waldo? Where in the World is George Sandiego? He’s on the type of quest we all dream of making, once we’re of an age and a mindset to understand the meaning of the Taj Mahal while standing in front of it. He’s taking his time, keeping in touch, and Lex and I pray for him always, as he figures out this grand scheme, this labyrinth of possibility we blithely refer to as Life.