READY FOR A ROWDY REUNION
Driving for days, crossing America
to see her
Once my baby, now herself
Visiting friends on the road
Taking my time
Knowing at this journey’s end
We will be together again
Hugs so hard
Laughing, crying, ready for anything
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
We were prompted to write about a fork in the road; a change in direction; a crossroads, and the path taken – or not taken.
As usual, I took a different path… on the prompt! Enjoy a bit of whimsy. Amy
SILVER WHERE (Writer’s Island, Imagine)
Humid sultry unbearable walking-through-hot-water August midday
Trying to catch even the echo of a slight breeze
Wandering in the shade trees of Topanga Canyon
A glint
A glimmer of shiny something
half-hidden under leaves blown to the side of the road
during yesterday’s languidly moving air
A fork
Did someone toss it out the window with their takeout Chinese
forgetting that it came from a drawer in their home
(the ants feast on leftover Boiled Tripe and Things in a nearby discard0
Was there a fight and it was flung in a rage? From a moving car?
Or was it Julia Butterfly Hill, who takes environmentalism so seriously
she packs knife, fork, spoon, napkin, cup, and plate in her handbag
lest she be served on styrofoam with plastic utensils
Did her legendary self wander this road? Did the fork get tired of wandering?
Did it share tearful, tarnish-inducing goodbyes
with her fellow knife and spoon
before skinnying out a hole in the bottom of Julia’s bag?
The fork is with me today; I shine it often and smile at happenstance
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore, Sharp Little Pencil
Another take on that lovely word, Imagine. Most of us fly in our dreams – sometimes it seems quite real…
FREE FLIGHT (Writer’s Island, Imagine)
Wandering into the enchanted field
petting daisies, grazing the tips of
grasses grown wild and tall
She centers herself
gripping damp ground with her toes
Eyes close and her face turns skyward
Arms rise from her sides and she
wills her body to follow
Heels peel off the earth, then her toes
Opening her eyes, she is just off the ground
hovering, delighted, a featherweight being
Now comes the real work
She launches into a vertical breaststroke
slowly, loving the feel of her fingers moving through
humid air as though along a pond
The field is far below her now; her house is
a Lego-sized block. She levels off her ascent
and pushes farther into the atmosphere
Over hills, touching the tops of Douglas firs
Swooping down over the river, she waves to
kids swimming on the lakeshore
Look, they whisper, Why don’t our parents
believe us? She doesn’t wait for night
She take flight when we can watch her
But the grownups are too busy, away from the
places in nature where she can be spied
so only children are inspired to try and fly
Someday, she muses, I will have a daughter
and we will take a night flight, hand in hand, close to
the harvest moon, as fireflies light the way
And when we’ve had enough of airborne travel
we’ll come to rest on our own roof
feet dangling over the eaves. Wondering, laughing
How many are blessed with the power of flight?
She doesn’t know, but thinks it must be very few
for she’s never seen another in all her travels
Her mother taught her the secret: Let go of the world
let the air fill you up past your lungs, so deeply
that you are the air. Let go and be free
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore, Sharp Little Pencil
We were asked to think about the word Imagine in all its guises. This is the first of two.
DAY OF SILENCE (Writer’s Island, Imagine)
If a single day
could be set aside
for silence
For contemplations
No TV, no radio
no voices
Expressing ourselves only
with our faces and eyes
Opening our souls
Experiencing neighbors, friends
without the burden of words
Our eyes alone would speak
A day for books
for walks, to listen as Nature
had her say
A true Sabbath
One day set aside to remember
who we are to one another
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore, Sharp Little Pencil
If you are manic-depressive, you’ll understand. If you’re not, try to understand… and ‘walk a mile in my Keds’! Amy
ON A DIME, IN A FLASH
Flopped on the couch like a road toad
flat as flannel
Brain accepts invisible code
BING! A channel
goes live – I’m up and about
Pop! Goes the manic
Look! The sun’s shining after all
Outside in a panic
Walking so fast my mind can’t keep up
Store. Buy. Food.
On the way walk home, starting to slip
home… not so… good…
Now that was one fast-cycling episode
Food barely to the kitchen
I’m back on the couch, potato load
Bipolar bitchin’
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Thoughts about the Obama presidency and the dearth – not the death – of activism. Time to wake up!
CHANGE 2009
He stood to take the oath of office
Both the white guy and the biracial guy blew the oath
but an Asian cellist became a rock star that day
Miles of humanity surrounded the Capitol
Standing as one and chanting,
“Yes we can! Yes we can!”
Now, a year later, half are disillusioned and
too damned lazy to call their legislators or take action
They should have been shouting, “Yes HE can!”
He can’t do it alone
The road to change is long, deeply furrowed and
littered with sharp stones (lest you cut your foot)
Change doesn’t come from a place of comfort
especially your own smug armchair in front of a plasma TV
Change comes hard. Raise your voices. Get off your asses.
YES. WE. CAN.
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
True stories are always the best!
WHERE YOU FIND IT (SoCal Christmas)
That winter we were broke
Broken into bite-size pieces by our
Topanga Canyon appetites
Doobies opium hash wonka windowpane
drink snort smoke toke more more
wasting days and wastrel nights
By Christmas Day we had nothing
to give our friends
but canned vegetables
lifted from the local market
wrapped in the funny papers
Presents taped carefully, lovingly
exchanging gifts with one another
as though we had each one of us found treasure
Opened the cans and found a pot
to make Stoner Soup
The most generous Christmas of my life
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sharp Little Pencil 