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

Tag Archives: Wordle

With The Sunday Whirl, wordler-in-chief Brenda posed the words in bold – a baker’s dozen.  Also, Sunday Scribblings wanted us to write on the word “Captivate.”  These are both Sunday-based poems, the second being a haiku.   Also posted at my poetic home away from home, Poets United.

FOR THE SUNDAY WHIRL

Sunday Praise Service

Hot coffee to stir the ominous ache in her weary bones. 
She chooses an emerald empire-waist dress;
the illusion of a full front covers
the void of her shrinking frame.

Time to observe the celestial, to worship the Divine.
As her sandals flip, flop, flap into the sanctuary,
a kid jostles past her up the balcony stairs to sit with his mom.
She smiles, remembering her own scrambles up there;
the rhythm of life is upbeat and present
here in this church.

Church services are usually holy pantomime, but
not here.  The sermon moves her – and the music?
It rocks like the ages!

© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

““““““““““““““““““““

FOR SUNDAY SCRIBBLINGS

Televangelists Are Full Of Crap

Captivate
with delusions of riches,
Joel Osteen.

Captivate
with tales of earthly wealth,
Graham Junior.

Hold captive
those prisoners of Rapture,
who crave flight.

© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil


A Wordling Whirl of Sundays gave us some great words:  Fading, flew, hurtles, limbs, clears, toss, turned, reaching, fresh, flossed, flecks, and siren. Thanks, Brenda, for a good challenge! Also posted at Poets United, the poets’ collective.

Unexpected Turn

Her mom’s car hurtles down the road,
windows down, fresh air, CD player cranked.

Amanda glances at her IPhone and waves it, yelling:
“Mindy says she just flossed her butt with a new thong!”

Cath is a new driver wishing they’d be quiet.
(Wait’ll they get their licenses, then they’ll understand.)

Amanda and Kara, texting like mad, oblivous to
the nerves of the new driver, who clears her throat.

Flecks of sunlight obscure her view.
(Damn, I shoulda worn my shades.)

“SHUT UP, GUYS!” she finally yells,
reaching the limits of her patience with her friends.

A deer darts across the road; Cath swerves and
heads straight for Mrs. Hardy’s fresh-painted fence.

They hit the ditch first and flip,
tossturned as limbs fly in slow motion.

The ambulance flew, sirens screaming,
but Kara and Cath were already fading.

© 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


From Brenda Warren’s blog, A Wordling Whirl of Sundays (a new favorite prompt of mine – check it out!).  Words from the Wordle form appear in bold within my poem.  Check Brenda’s blog to see what other poets came up with, and to view the actual Wordle block, which for some reason would not reproduce here.  Peace, Amy

 

Twilight Ablaze

Deep in this planet’s twilight,
a confidently striding soul has fallen.
His head came up against a heavy branch; both cracked.
Now he lies still.

His cigarette smolders,
its sparks set dry leaves afire.

A light breeze spreads flames as
the night wind tails toward the valley below,
turning a slight accident into
the full-throated cry of hundreds of neighbors
afraid their homes will not be spared.

© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

This poem is also at Poets United, my poetic collective home.  Click on their link and discover a WORLD of amazing poets!


Last Stop on the Erie-Lackawanna

She sits on the train and stares at the passing hillsides.
Animated visions of towns she long since left
are whizzing by, their whispered plea, “Come back,
you are still thirsty for that bottle of mistakes,
come partake and we will sustain you.”

Bad memories, resilient buggers.
Aching for revenge that will never be hers,
she stands on the platform of the caboose
and, hearing the thrumming of the engine, wheels at full-tilt pace,
she decides this may be her stop after all.

(c) 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore

Many thanks to Brenda Warren at Beyond the Bozone for the Wordle. As usual, a cheerful offering from yours truly…!
The words were:    revenge, aching, train, thirst, thrumming, visions, resilient, sustain, animated, hillsides, whispered.


This came from a “wordle,” a group of words you can form into a block of art; to create one yourself, click HERE.

Thanks to whichever poet’s blog contained the block (and I apologize that you remain anonymous, I was all over the place today).   I can’t reproduce it here, but all the words from the block are in bold. Enjoy! Amy

FIRST TIME (wordle)

Smoldering like an ash-pit and
lush with promise, but
clunky teenage moves
His one hand, awake, cupped my breast
The other was passed out under my back
then resurfaced to hold my head for
a quick nibble at that well-hung boy
The First Time