This my 400th post at WordPress! To celebrate, I purchased the official site name, “sharplittlepencil.com” – but don’t worry; your old links will still forward to this address. Here is a song and with it, a true story that resulted from my posting the link on YouTube. My friends and former partners in music ministry, Kathy Smith and Corrine Crook of Our Saviour Lutheran Church in Endwell, NY, joined me at Tranquil Bar and Bistro in an impromptu rendition of “Rivers of Babylon,” as captured by my friend George Bezushko’s phone cam. Peace, Amy
Sister Elizabeth and Babylon
African-American, Benedictine cloistered nun
writes letter to
Anglo-American jazz singer
asking for transcription of a song
she found on the Web.
Most of the sisters, Anglo as well,
sing a capella;
African influences will flavor the praise.
And so singer finds a hand-written copy
Sends it with note: “…and I’m married to a pastor!”
God’s work is never done
so effectively
as when women combine their own desires
with others’ can-do attitudes to create
a new kind of unity, crossing divides.
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For dverse poets Open Mic Night and Poets United
Living Love (for Kate)
So far down on his luck, he’s under it.
Literally.
Living beneath a bridge called Home.
Gathering other folks’ flotsam by day
to make do, then retreating to his camp
where he sleeps unmolested each night.
From her window, she spies the man.
She ventures out, offers some food, scopes out
the soul hiding underneath his misfortune.
They don’t talk much, but then,
true generosity is not a grand, chatty deal.
Her gifts are met with quiet gratitude.
She buys him a propane grill and this and that.
He probably needs psych help, but she’ll never
push – so easy to scare a rabbit from its hutch.
She says, “When the president came to Madison,
he drove right over that bridge.” The irony
is thick as brick, and just as heavy.
That’s not a troll under there; no beast from
a Grimm tale. He’s a human being. And she
acts out of the words of Jesus, quietly.
She lives out of love.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For Sunday Scribblings; the prompt was “investigate.” Iif Kate had never checked out this man and his circumstances, she’d never have had the chance to help him. Also posted at the wonderful Poets United.
Artistic
(For Riley)
She was a quiet, hidden way about her.
She may seem strident to some
but her shell protects her from
the piercing lens of the world.
Girl. Canvas. In the perfect light of a
beachside studio, her energy
is reignited. Perhaps warm, salty
air emits creative power.
She pitches in: Cerulean and Sand,
Viridian, a hint of Ivory, a
swish of vivid Magenta, a few
Ebony-dappled accents. No one can
imagine the sublime delirium,
this torrid tango of perfect partners.
Part duel, part puzzling rendezvous.
Her brow furrowing into a pleat
as she is lost in the swirl of brushstrokes.
She’s found a new way to express
what she feels, her profound nature.
Longing becomes art.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For the Sunday Whirl and my poetic touchstone, Poets United.
The Wordle included: Reignite, emit, delirium, air, piercing, swish, dappled, pleat, seem, strident, pitch, shell.
Still under the weather – and yet, there’s that dizzy, “you ain’t goin’ nowhere” feeling of the flu that still gives rise to interesting thoughts.
First off, you MUST check out this link if you interested in (and, like me, vociferously object to) the Nazi/Fascist/Far-Right phenomenon of banning and/or burning books. Some might not like it (not because of subject, but because the title is something about “booksluts” and they use the “vee-jay-jay” word (yes, I have one, too. What’s the big deal?). There are some useful links. I BOUGHT my daughter a copy of The Jungle by Upton Sinclair when she was a teen. BANNED! SOCIALIST LEANINGS! Click HERE.
Please do check it out, but NOT until you have read this poem, for ABC Wednesday, and, of course, my poetic heartbeat, Poets United. Amy
I Never Lost Faith in Love
For all the sorry-ass excuses for men
who double-crossed my path,
through every mischievous menace who
left me drained and feeling inadequate,
I never lost faith in love.
Through many mistakes whose lips met mine
with divinely inspired kisses
(but the Devil’s own heart), plus
all the power of commitment God gave an ashtray,
I never lost faith in love.
For every hairy-dick tomcat
who yowled ‘til I let him in,
through every door that slammed in my face
once he got his share of the kitty,
I never lost faith in love.
On this earth, once I found the one
who is plush to my blush,
ever-after to my laughter,
I thank God every day,
I never lost faith in love.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Walk, Talk, Persevere
Our hands in our pockets, we walked.
‘Twas of Lila’s cancer we talked.
“Oh, sure, it was one fucking jolt!
One week, all is well, then this bolt
from Doctor X come a-roaring
in our ears, but then my adoring
Meg said, ‘Give us some options, Doc.’”
“In the past, it was urgent – tick-tock,
to cut off the woman’s whole breast.
But now it’s the simple way’s best.”
The importance of one single fact:
Lila’s dignity would be intact.
There’d be scraping and chemo, but then,
their future to build was the plan,
“Rebuild Lila’s health” was the rule.
They married; bold women: They’re cool.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore
From Brenda Warren’s Sunday Whirl, and just in time! Wordle words are in bold. This is dedicated to all women and men who have survived breast cancer… and in memory of those who did not. Peace, Amy
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
——————————-
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
The Big Change
How to explain the changes ahead of me.
First, Mom needed gin, just a snort
to abort the mortification of
the dreaded subject at hand: Sex.
On a page in her steno notebook,
she drew crude diagrams:
Ovaries, tubes, uterus – utilitarian scrawls,
later to be thrown away in disgust.
“The egg starts in here,” pen on ovary,
“travels down through here,”
tracing Fallopian Lane,
“and ends up here. Once a month.”
Another jigger of gin for courage.
“If the egg gets fertilized, it stays here
and becomes a baby. If not,”
siiiiiiigh, “you bleed and need some equipment.”
She pulled out the mysterious
blue box, used heretofore only by
Mom and my big sisters. Removing
napkin and belt, she trussed me up.
That was the extent of Sex Ed with Mom:
There were eggs (aren’t eggs big?).
There were tubes and a place
you might make a baby (is fertilization about peat moss?)
Later I found out the good stuff…
recalling Mae West’s immortal wisdom:
“No man ever loved me
the way I love myself!”
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
For Poetic Bloomings, a new site – check it out! Theirbeing Change. Also at Poets United, the poetry collective.
Poets United asked us to meditate on the word, “She.”
THREE IMAGES OF WOMEN GRACE MY WALL
A dog-eared poster hovers near my desk, rebellious wallpaper
Detailed manifesto of the Women’s Liberation Movement
“Because woman’s work is never done and is underpaid…”
Words from a bubbling wellspring of hope and burned lycra
Demand for an equal stake in this country, still unmet
A postcard: Virginia Woolf and Gertrude Stein
keep me honest in all pursuits, artful and activist
as they stare me down in a loving way, like sisters
heart of depression beside the mother of us all
reminding me that women are worthy of everything
Klimt portrait, foil-embroidered woman
She stands alone, in no man’s embrace
yet framed by flowers, wearing a come-hither robe
Full black hat, ebony halo, distant gaze
Essence of loveliness, an equal part of my soul
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Poetic Bloomings, a new and interesting site, wanted poems about “lost and found.” Then Brenda’s Sunday Whirl gave me words that culminated in the poem below (those prompt words are in bold). Give these new sites a whirl yourselves! And, of course, I’m on the right sidebar at Poets United! Peace, Amy
Lost in the Weeds
She is lost in the weeds.
She’s good wheat, but what sprouts near her
possess voices that pierce and keen.
No matter how strong her fortress,
an unfamiliar, frightening force
rattles the bars of her gate.
She needs an image to cling to,
wholly holy, distinctly divine.
A steadfast vision beyond this
jangling jungle of fear becomes clear.
She shakes off the weeds, uproots them,
and splinters the yoke of despair.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
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
Sharp Little Pencil 