Poetry Exercise 1/22/13

Poem 1:

The Pine Barrens once had their own

Particular Witch

Pineys put salt over their doors

To discourage visits from the Witch of the Pines,

Peggy Clevenger.  It was known

She could turn herself into a rabbit,

For a dog was once seen chasing a rabbit,

And the rabbit jumped

Through the window of a house

And there – in the same instant,

In the window – stood Peggy Clevenger.

Once, a man saw a lizard and tried to kill it

By crushing it with a large rock.

The rock hit the lizard,

The lizard disappeared.  Peggy Clevenger materialized

On the spot

And smacked the man in the face.

Clevenger is a Hessian name.

Peggy lived in Pasadena,  another of the now vanished towns,

About five miles east of Mt. Misery. It was said

She had a stocking full of gold.

Her remains were found one morning

In the smoking ruins of her cabin,

But there was no trace of the gold. 

Poem 1 revised:

Once,

In one of the now vanished towns

Lived Peggy Clevenger,

Hessian, witch,

Five miles east of Mt. Misery, in Pasadena.

It was said she had a stocking

Full of gold.

The Pine Barrens called her their own

Particular witch,

Pineys put salt over their doors

To discourage visits from the Witch of the Pines,

Peggy Clevenger.  It was known

She could turn herself into a rabbit. Once,

A dog was seen chasing a rabbit.

The rabbit jumped

Through the window of a house,

And there, in the same instant,

In the window stood Peggy.

Once,

A man tried to kill a lizard by crushing it

With a large rock.

The lizard disappeared.  Peggy materialized

On the spot, and smacked the man

In the face.

In Pasadena, five miles east of Mt. Misery,

Died Peggy Clevenger,

Hessian, witch.  One morning,

Her remains were found,

In the smoking ruins of her cabin.

But of her gold, there was no trace. 

Poem 2:

We had come to a clearing

Where thousands of blueberry bushes grew. 

In the center of it

Was the packing house, a small

Low building,

With open and screenless windows on all sides.

In front of it was a schoolbus marked

“Farm Labor Transport”. The driver

Stood beside it,

A tall and amiable-looking man

With bare feet, green trousers and a T-shirt.

The end of the working day had come.

Pickers were swarming around a pump –

Old women, middle-aged men, a young girl. A line

Was waiting to use an outhouse near the pump.

Inside the packing house,

Berries half and inch thick rolled up a conveyor belt,

And into pint boxes. Charlie’s sister

Was packing the boxes. Charlie’s daughter-in-law

Was putting cellophane over them. Charlie’s son Jim

Was supervising the operation. 

Charlie picked up a pint box, in which

Berries were mounded high. With disgust

He told me some supermarket chains knock off these mounds

Of extra berries,

And put them in new boxes, getting three or four extra pints

Per twelve box tray.

At one window,

Pickers were turning in tickets of various colors.

They were given cash in return.  One picker,

Who appeared to be at least in his sixties, tapped

Charlie on the arm and showed him

A thick packet of tickets, held together

With a rubber band.

“I found these,” the man said. “They

Must have fallen out of your son’s pocket.”

He gave the packet to Charlie, who thanked him,

And counted the tickets.

Charlie said, “These tickets are worth

Seventy-five dollars.”

Poem 2 revised:

Outside,

we came to a clearing,

With blueberry bushes surrounding

Us.  The packing house, small and low,

Stood in the center,

Windows fixed in all its sides.

Inside,

Berries half an inch thick were rolling

Up a conveyor belt, into pint boxes.  Charlie’s family

did their part, packing, wrapping,

And watching boxes of blueberries,

His son, daughter in law, and sister.

Outside,

The working day had ended.  Pickers were swarming

Around a pump.  They were

Waiting in line for the outhouse nearby, turning in

Colored tickets for cash at a window,

Men, old women, a young girl. 

Inside,

With disgust Charlie picked up a pint box in which

Berries were mounted high, telling me some

stores knock off extra berries, and put them in new boxes

To get extra pints per

Twelve box tray.

Inside, one picker,

An old man, tapped Charlie on the arm and showed

A thick packet of colored tickets bound

With a rubber band.  “I found these,” he said “They

Must have fallen out of your son’s pocket.”  He gave

The tickets to Charlie, who thanked him and counted them.

Charlie said, “These tickets are worth

Seventy-five dollars.”  

Inside -Out.