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)

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