If you don’t “mind” the “V” word, read on. But remember, I warned you. Also, to anyone who objects, please remember: COPYING, XEROXING, AND DISTRIBUTING MY WORK IS A COPYRIGHT VIOLATION. YOU MAY GO TO JAIL. (I have had mean “stalkers” lately.)
OK, the snarky scolding is out of the way. Fasten your seatbelts!
Me & V
I am a woman.
Each morning I
sit on my vagina and drink coffee.
Every day is
Take Your Vagina To Work Day.
“Betty” watches
while I pee and used to
participate in my monthlies.
She knows my husband. Well.
Me and my vagina have been
through thick and…
not-so-thick.
I’ve taken care of her for years.
In return, she opened wide and
helped deliver my baby girl.
Me and my vagina: BFFs.
So, Congress, don’t tread on us.
Together, we are a formidable foe.
Just ask my ex.
© 2014 Poetry and Artwork by Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
First, a disclaimer: Betty is not really my BFF. My friend John in Philadelphia is. Somehow, I know that this particular order in the greater scheme of things will bring him comfort… and a laugh.
When ABC Wednesday asked for poems about the letter V… well, ’nuff said!! Peace and reproductive rights for all, unless you want to outlaw Viagra and submit tests on fathers before termination of pregnancies, Amy
The Siren
Older men
seasoned
schooled in seduction
bandied like young bucks
at the sight of
her winsome face
her womanly walk
Behold, that silksultry cool
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Mama Zen at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads asked us for eight. Eight lines, eight words, anything Eight.
Eight lines to describe the face a thousand words could not paint… I’ve known this woman. Today, she’s still got it… she just uses it to better advantage!
Also at my poetic perch, Poets United.
Peace, Amy
Lessons Learned
I used to be approached by men
who were little more than boys
regarding me as made for them
like all their other toys
I used to see the handsome ones
who knew they looked so good
and acted thus; not calling back,
their conduct understood
I used to be a looker, then
when looking was to be done
For all the fun I could’ve had
I’ve had more peace with one
So wait for him, whose gaze rests not
upon your boobs, but your eyes
Who listens and responds in kind
For there your wellspring lies
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Suzy, who stopped by my blog and commented (I rarely reply, but rather visit the blogs as a practice), had a prompt of her own from “Verse First,” and it was to write of a lesson you learned. You can find other links HERE, but this was the best lesson of all for me. It gave me Lex.
This is also ‘in the margins’ on the sidebars of Poets United and Imaginary Garden With Real Toads. Peace, and hoping you all find your true love, Amy
Photo © Kim Nelson
The One That Got Away
Within
Gentle droplet
Humanity begins
Viewed at doctor’s, yet that same night
Taken
Woman
Mother-to-be
Seemingly, “Nevermore”
Her womb emptied by dark forces
Grief reigns
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
This poem, a cinquain (yes, I wrote a form that was not specifically requested!), for Poets United, is based on my first impression of the fabulous artwork of Kim Nelson (Poet, Artist, Blogger, and FRIEND – check out her work by clicking on her name).
Even though it’s in shades of red, my take was an ultrasound screen, with the fetal head at the top. I did have a miscarriage years ago, which probably explains the red connection, and it haunted me for so long, until I got pregnant with Riley and knew she was ‘in with Velcro.’ Peace, Amy (Proud Member, Poets United)
These poems are dedicated to the women of Afghanistan, and I thank Kenia at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads for introducing us to the landai, the form of which is explained below in notes, along with other information. This is also on the sidebar at Poets United and at ABC Wednesday, where we are on the letter “J.” This is my favorite J word. Peace, Amy
JUSTICE for women in oppressive regimes
How can ‘women’s spirits hold up half the sky’*
when their earthbound selves swelter under the burqa
Women nurture their baby boys at swollen breasts
only to watch them grow up and oppress their mothers
I am ten paces behind my husband, I make out his shape through net
I am ten generations behind my husband – this burqa, my ceiling
She wanted only to read, write, work figures, create
Acid was tossed in my little girl’s face for this grave sin
Mullah in the madrassa, my brother’s fate in his hands
Mother in the market, her fate already decided
How can I find peace with Americans on my street
when uniforms and guns serve as their faces?
The Prophet (PBUH)** elevated women to rights and inheritance
Ayatollahs strip us of those rights and instead force upon us burqas
On a day I will never live to see, my daughter will shed her burqa,
renounce the veil, leave this town, go to university, be free
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
* Kenia encouraged cooperation and playing off one another’s landai. This line, an old Chinese proverb, was used in a landai by Sherry Blue Sky – view her collection HERE.
** “Peace Be Upon Him,” traditionally said after invoking the name of either “The Prophet” or “The Prophet Mohammed.”
NOTES: According to Kenia at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads:
“The word landai means “short, poisonous snake” in Pashto. The poems are (two lines and) collective — no single person writes a landai; a woman repeats one, shares one. It is hers and not hers. Although men do recite them, almost all are cast in the voices of women.”
I had only to think of a movie I saw yesterday, Kandahar (2001). A woman who had escaped Afghanistan years before seeks to return, as her sister has written she plans to take her own life. Based on the story of Nelofer Pazira, who stars in the movie, I was struck by how the burqas had festive colors, since the burqa itself stands as a disgrace upon the leaders of conservative nations. It is a socioeconomic stance, country by country, as to what women are allowed to wear, whether they may attend school… whether they can stay alive when they fall down and accidentally show an ankle. Another movie about the lives of women in brutal regimes, also based on a true story – tough to watch but important to witness: The Stoning of Soraya M.
Hello, friends. I have two pieces of good news. First, my entry for the Trifecta “Week 35 Challenge,” which ran an entire month, was cited as the second-place winner – check out all three Trifecta winning entries at THIS LINK, including my friend Misky (Da winner and still champeen!!), and a new friend, Lucy Robinson Miller in third place.
Also, another great friend, Lady Nimue, edited the latest edition of the ezine, Fried Eye, and one of my poems is in there as well! So a big week, and truthfully, I needed the lift, so thanks, Nimue, for asking… and thanks to the folks at Trifecta for always having a wonderful challenge.
Detour Ahead? (an etheree)
Where
he leads
she follows
Whether he’s right
she dares not question
If she does, usual
answer, the back of his hand
Unfortunate girl, brought up by
a mother whose own questions were rare
Mirrors mock them both: Their “normal,” scarred, scared
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For Poets United (Follow/Lead and Usual/Rare).
NOTES: An etheree is ten lines with the first line having one syllable, the second two, and so on until you have ten lines with then syllables. There are variations. I only use form when it comes easily to my theme, and I hope Viv is proud of me! (She’s seen me struggle.)
The song “Detour Ahead” was (in my opinion) best sung by Billie Holiday, and best played instrumentally by pianist Bill Evans. Just in case you were wondering where the title of the poem came from. One of my favorite songs when I was in jazz clubs.
An Unquiet Mind
Virginia Woolf
catching life by the throat
time and again
An unquiet mind:
Dark star, wings of madness
Tender at the bone
The words, the testament.
Far from the madding crowd
the shallows,
weeping waters
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
All titles of books from my shelves – everything from “the” book on manic depression (An Unquiet Mind) to volumes on religion, collections of poetry, and my favorite book: Time and Again by Jack Finney. For the Books On Your Shelf prompt at Rhymes With Tao. Also at my poetic place for peace of mind, for creativy, Poets United. Peace, Amy
Wish Upon a Star
Remember being a kid and
wishing on a star?
I wish I can get a kitten.
I wish my sister wasn’t so mean.
I wish Mike in 7th period English liked me.
I wish my parents would stop fighting.
When I was a child
I wished as a child…
Now I wish for Fukushima
to be cooled, calmed, and collected
I wish for the Middle East to be at peace.
(Hey, I dream big)
I wish Rush Limbaugh would fade
into the obscurity he so richly deserves
I wish young girls would focus on their brains
and that Jon-Benetathons would vanish
I wish racists would grow
hearts… and minds
I wish on the wind for power
and for fracking to cease
I wish for women to be accorded
the rights and respect we deserve
I wish for justice for all, especially kids
For the world to be fed, clothed
This year, Jupiter is larger and
more visible than we’ll ever see it again.
So I focus on Jupiter,
shining bright in the night sky
If you want to heal a planet,
might as well wish on another planet
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For the Thursday Think Tank at my poetic space station, Poets United, where the prompt was “Wish.”
FREE SPIRIT SPEAKS 
You knew this about me before we first met
True, I’m your companion, but nobody’s pet
No leash will I wear, nor “She Is Mine” collar
So what, when I wander, gives you right to holler?
Can’t Alpha Male Tantrum me into submission
Rant all you want to, but it’s my tradition
A part of my birthright – we’re radical women
His water is warmer… and I’m goin’ swimmin’
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For dverse Form For All: Framed Couplets (first and last words must rhyme in each couplet!)
Also at my poetic hearth and home, Poets United.
Photo courtesy of Superstock.com, providing free images (for the time being!).
Refractions
Recounting the reflexes
that led to down and out.
Remembering that December,
the thin coat, the glances
of passersby wondering why
the girl who was talking
to herself had not found
a warm shelf on which to perch,
the chilled canary fairy without wings.
Ruffles her feathers that they might
have thought of her so.
Regretting the rejection by men
after they’d had their fill, having
sucked her soul from within its
sand castle, the frailty of her ego.
She winding-wanders on but
pauses at odd moments to reflect.
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
National Poetry Month, Day Three! One more take on Sunday Scribblings’ prompt, Reflect. Also hangin’ with my kin at Poets United: Scroll down their right column and meet some amazing poets! Peace, Amy
Sharp Little Pencil 