The Blue Hole

For Margaret’s Artistic Prompt over at Real Toads. I used to live across the river in Philadelphia, across from the Pine Barrens or the Pinelands or the Pines as this area is known. This is one of several poems written in this mysterious and beautiful setting. There is a Blue Hole hidden in the Barrens – its depths have not yet been fathomed and it is freezing cold all year long. Some call it the Devil’s Puddle, others the Blue Hole, some call it simply The Hole. The Jersey Devil is said to haunt the Barrens and to hunt around the lake. People live in the Barrens, called Pineys.  The creeks that flow through the Barrens are stained rusty brown with the tannin from all the pine tree roots. It is one of the most beautiful and silent places I have ever encountered.

The Blue Hole
The Jersey devil swims here –
In the silence and loneliness of the Pine Barrens.
He drinks from its ever freezing waters
and hunts in the pine trees
that rim the Blue Hole.
He sighs with the trees –
A soft lonely sound.
People approach and he slides
into the surrounding trees
leaving only a branch moving as if with the wind.
The Devil’s Puddle,
The Blue Hole.
The Jersey Devil calls it home –
the only home he has ever known.

Blue Lagoon by O. Bentor (NFS)

Beavers Sleeping

For my prompt over at Real Toads, Moonstruck, in which we write poems of 100 words or less about the different full moons. 88 words total.  I am wanting people to think about their word choices rather than just writing for length.

Beavers Sleeping
The full cold moon
shone down upon the beaver lodges –
The beavers sleeping soundly
in the cold. The shadow of the owl
flashed upon the moon like
a movie projection –
black – winging slowly looking
for food – huge wings beating
slowly, strongly.
A cry from the darkness,
a rabbit or a possum or
a stray feral cat –
food for the owl on this full cold moon.
Ghosting through the forest
gliding over the ice covered road –
Seeking, ever seeking.
Beavers sleep soundly, safely
in their lodges dreaming of summer.

Wolf Moon

For Open Link Night at dVerse. happy holidays to you all and happy new year!Wolf Moon
“As I always like to say, good is good forever.” Anthony Bourdain

the wolf moon begins to rise
shattered into pieces
by black branches
like a sky mounted mirror.
branches begin to whisper
tossed by high flying breezes
sounding like windchimes made from seashells,
small animal bones, broken glass –
The wolf moon crouches in the sky
sniffing the smell of the wind.

Let’s Play Pretend

For Marian’s Prompt at Real Toads about coming out Gay along with a song from Boy Erased.

Let’s Play Pretend
“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”  Oscar Wilde

So this is a poem where we imagine coming out.
We imagine how we would feel.
We pretend we know what it is like.
But those of us who are born
with Straight Priviledge –
can never know.
We relate things about people we know –
Who are Lesbian, Homosexual, Transgender,
Transexual, Bisexual, Gay, Questioning…
We listen to music that is calculated to wring tears
from a stone.
My best friend and sister of my soul
Is A Lesbian.
I know all about her coming out,
Her use of drugs and alcohol.
Hell, I did a lot of those drugs with her myself
and got equally as drunk.
But do I know what it was like for her?
Did I feel the pain of her lover leaving her
and breaking her heart?
No I did not.
I am not going to pretend I do.
I will continue to love her
the sister of my soul
and pray the world treats her
as she deserves.
She is one of the finest people I know.
And we straight people
pretending we know,
pretending we understand,
well, we can keep on pretending.
It makes us appear cool.

The Duns of Winter

For Amaya’s prompt over at dVerse Poet’s Pub – the secret ingredient.

The Duns of Winter
The duns of winter
sleep softly
waiting for the last ingredient –
snow

Rainy Woods

For Kim’s prompt on Real Toads, seizing the day, getting it down.  She gives us three poems. This is the one that inspired me:
And the days are not full enough
And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass. by Ezra Pound

Rainy Woods
“Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops.” Langston Hughes

Stepping into rain
the walk leads past autumn woods –
the only sound is the rain tapping on the fallen leaves.
Off to the left a fox runs, tail down.
I stand and watch the rain dripping from the leaves
then I continue on my walk,
breathing in the scents of rain and rotting leaves.

Thanksgiving for All

For Walt and Marie’s Poetic Bloomings using all the words: Thanksgiving for all the words: cranberries, feast, eat, grateful, Pilgrims, sweet potatoes, Plymouth, stuffing, gravy, food, ham, gobble, natives, pumpkin pie, gobble, blessings, turkey, family, thankful, friends, leaves, tradition, football, parades, nap. In Richmond every year, there is a Thanksgiving for all who want to come and join in the feast. all food and labor is volunteered. I volunteer in the kitchen every year to help cook.

Thanksgiving for All
The huge space is filled with tables
Covered with hand drawn plate mats
Drawn by children of the school system:
Pilgrims, turkeys drawn from hands,
Rocks with the world “Plymouth” written on them.
Pictures of Native Americans, autumn leaves.
Some of the pictures are scraggly,
Others well drawn, even some Santas
With Happy Holidays coming from their mouths.
It is a tradition, thirty years old.
All are welcome here:
Friends, family, strangers, rich, poor,
Those without homes and those who live in mansions.
All gather here to eat this feast.
People – men, women, children
Are seated at tables. Some people you don’t know
Some you do but they all become family
By the end of the meal.
When all are seated,
A rabbi, a priest, a minister
Someone representing those without beliefs
And others representing the Buddhists,
The Muslims, Shinto
All speak to their God and thank them
For the blessings of this meal and friendship.
We are truly thankful for this meal, this food,
This friendship.
People wearing aprons circulate among the tables
Bearing plates of turkey, stuffing, cranberries,
Gravy, rolls, green beans and greens, candied sweet potatoes
Slices of ham, glasses of milk or iced tea.
All volunteers grateful to have cooked and now serving
These many people.
Children laugh, make turkey sounds:
Gooble gobble gobble!!
Then pumpkin pie is served
While full diners talk about football and past parades,
Babies nodding, taking naps.
In the kitchen the crew clean up
And snatch mouthfuls of leftovers
And then stand at the doors shaking hands
Of those leaving.
Peace to you. Blessings upon you.
We will see you next year!

Richmond Center Thanksgiving meal for all

 

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