Five Poems by Karen A VandenBos

 

And So It Goes

 

I am birthed from the womb

of women, my body covered

in blood, the blood of my mother.

My first cry is one of battle,

already a warrior which society

will soon try to silence.

My first steps are in the direction

you point me instead of where

I want to go.

When I say no, you tell me yes.

You take away my voice and

feed me lies. You do not know

how to listen to the earth so I

must learn to ask.

You have no idea how to create

poetry with your words so I have

come to sit by the edge of the

river to learn the language of

of all that is holy.

 

 

She Is Here

 

You know she is here.

You feel her in your breath

and hear her talk to you

through the crows.

 

You sense her watch you

sleep and feel her release

your dreams that were

years ago written in the

palms of her hands.

 

You know it is her when

the flames of the fire dance

in the shadows and you

hear the moon whisper it's

secrets in your ear.

 

You taste her spells when

she pricks her finger on the

tip of a star and drizzles them

into your mouth. You smell her

in the garden where the

nightshade grows.

 

Before the arrival of dawn

you feel her touch the mark

just under your right breast

that brands you as one of her

own. You know then that

the witch is here.

 

 

The Devil's Trumpet of Reality

 

With dilated pupils we stare into the

fire and imagine caramel melting.

 

Time slips into a long ago winter

where the ancient scream of the raven

makes us place our hands over our ears

and long for our mothers.

 

The afternoon has settled into a night as

black as coal and finds us mesmerized

by the headlights of cars that bobble

up and down the winding mountain roads.

 

We snuggle closer under the cover of

bear pelts to ward off the chill and our

fear of ghosts, the earth vibrating with the

rush of hundreds of marching feet.

 

A shaft of moonlight silhouettes the men

in kilts on their way to Culloden and a

luminous white horse, pale as death rides

through the veil.

 

The forest becomes as quiet as a library

until the flapping wings of pterodactyls

rustle the poems from the trees that drink

from the river.

 

The Cailleach touches her finger to her

lips as songs of mourning play from

somewhere on a radio.

 

Suddenly, hungry as bears, we look

longingly at our empty bowls of mutton

eaten hours ago. With our now parched

throats, we swallow the devil's trumpet

of reality and slip back into acid laced

dreams.

 

 

Dear Muse

 

Where are we going today?

Will it be to touch the stars

and taste the moon?

 

Will we drink tea with the

fairies and swim with the

whales?

 

How will we dress? Will it

be in glittery masks of gold

and elegant gowns or in

spinning tutus and combat

boots?

 

How shall we wear our hair?

Will it be like Rapunzel's or

shall we be flappers and crop

it in a bob?

 

Will we find holiness in just

one line or will we cast our

nets wide and fill an ocean

with words?

 

Wherever we go, whatever

we do, let's break all the rules.

 

 

Moonbeams & Shooting Stars

 

In sleep you illuminate her dreams.

She worships you as all that is holy

to the dark of night.

When your belly is round she gathers

with women and dances naked

under your spell.

She embraces your moods and

flows with your tides and bleeds

in the lodge that bears your name.

Dipping oars into the river, she looks

to you as guide and follows your

silver ribbon to the sea.

She watches as the stars bloom around

you and on nights when you hide

behind a cloud she will lasso a

lone shooting star and place it in

a jar by her window.

On the night of the lunar eclipse when

the sky is deep ink black, she reaches

into that jar, eats the brightest star

and soon falls asleep with her arms

around the dying moon.

The poets are now intoxicated by her

pull on their hearts as they watch

her glow, reborn from the light of

a star.

 

 

 

Karen A VandenBos - Once upon a time, Karen A VandenBos was born on a warm July morn in Kalamazoo, MI. She can be found unleashing her imagination in two online writing groups and her writing has been published in Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Blue Heron Review, The Rye Whiskey Review, One Art: a journal of poetry, Anti-Heroin Chic, The Ekphrastic Review and others.