Welcome to the BEANERY ONLINE LITERARY MAGAZINE

     Welcome to the BEANERY ONLINE LITERARY MAGAZINE (BOLM), an online publication sponsored by the Beanery Writers Group in Latrobe, Pennsylvania.

     The BOLM is a magazine with multiple topics and genres, written by the writers group members and submitted by writers worldwide. The posts are created for your reading pleasure, and, sometimes, to challenge you. The Categories list, on the right side of this blog site, indicates both BW and Visitor contributors.

     Readers subscribing to the BOLM receive notice of writings as they are posted. To subscribe, look to the right of this sticky note to see  Email Subscription. Type your email address in the box. After you  receive an email from WordPress and confirm your subscription, you will start receiving notifications of each post as it is completed.

     Your email address will not be made public any time you contribute to this blog site.

     We invite you to submit writings to the BOLM. Send submissions to beanerywriters at yahoo.com with the word SUBMISSION in the subject line. New submitters should include a brief bio.

     BW members welcome any comments and/or input on this site. The comment box is at the end of each post.

      Happy reading! 

     Carolyn Cornell Holland, facilitator of the Beanery Writers Group

Toward Harboring at Evening

BEANERY ONLINE LITERARY MAGAZINE

TOWARD HARBORING AT EVENING

Robert A. Woodall

This poem, Toward Harboring at Evening, was published as part of a collection of Robert A. Woodall’s poems,  Let Mind Give Way to Heart. It seems appropriate that it be posted today, since Bob began his sail on “a virgin sea” on January 21, 2012.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Is this the time when I must leave

            sure things that I have known

And sail a virgin sea to where

            the winds of fate have blown

 Me onward to another shore

            with new horizons bold?

Pray not an empty dream, but by

            His light this vision hold!

Oh! Captain of my ship of life

            sail by the eastern star,

That on this dark and storm tossed sea

            I shall not wander far.

Although her helm may twisting test

            my sinews and my mind,

By sextant of a faithful heart,

            I’ll clear safe channel find.

And when by evenings light I sail

            into the golden bay.

With ensign full atop her mast,

            “Come, Harbor Master, say”

That I may lower anchor here

            and sing upon this shore,

In faith to find my moorage paid,

            that I need sail no more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

ADDITIONAL READING:

Poems by Robert A. Woodall posted on the BOLM

THE VIEWING

QUINTESSENCE

LET MIND GIVE WAY TO HEART

A Haiku Poem: Jean Isobel Myers

BEANERY ONLINE LITERARY MAGAZINE

A HAIKU  POEM      

Jean Isobel Myers

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ahoy all writers

Let’s set sail, “swinging the lamps”

Steady as she goes…

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

ADDITIONAL READING:

A Beanery Writers Group Story in Photographs

Tamarindo: What is It?

Fifteen Minutes of Fame: Part 1—The Real Thing

Feeling Safe

BEANERY ONLINE LITERARY MAGAZINE

FEELING SAFE

Joe F. Stierheim

     Everybody—everything—in the universe wants to feel safe.

     It is a very simple matter, one that should be surprising to no one. Yet it is a concept that is often overlooked, misunderstood or misused. Often we find it amusing to not feel safe. For instance, we spend a great deal of time, effort and money in stories, movies or games that scare us. We call this entertainment. Volcanoes, tidal waves, civil unrest, wars, crime, hurricanes and chainsaws are all part of the scenarios. When the entertainment becomes real, we don’t like it and so we spend a great deal of time, effort and money to see that such things don’t happen or in hopes of escaping them.

     It is a fact that in our present society, very few of us feel safe. Endeavors to compensate for that take many forms. One of those is

Noel 2011

BEANERY ONLINE LITERARY MAGAZINE

NOEL 2011

Joan Myers

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A little magic, new fallen snow

Holly berries, mistletoe

Ginger notes, candle wicks

Playful paw prints in the mix

Children to bed as starlight spills

Every stocking wonder fills

Yet still recall the legend of old

Bearing frankincense and gold

An ancient trio traversed the sand

Sought the infant King in a faraway land

BEANERY ONLINE LITERARY MAGAZINE

A TIME FOR FURNACE FIRES:

CHRISTMAS AND THE START OF WINTER WEATHER

Fran Welts

Intro by Carolyn Cornell H olland

 The following post provides a warning to every family at the beginning of the cold winter weather and the start of the heating season.

It is also a warning to all who decorate their homes for the holidays.  

     It’s 4:30 a. m.

     After just a brief night’s sleep your two youngest children ages one and two, waken you from a deep sleep. For no particular reason that you can discern.

     You feel somewhat irritated—after all, it’s the Christmas season. The double holidays of Thanksgiving and Christmas have overwhelmed you. Money is short. Time is tight. There’s a long task list.

     Your feelings of resentment over losing your sleep escalate…your stress level rises as the youngsters show no signs of abating their activities.

     They can sleep in once they return to bed. You can’t. You have to work.

     What’s a parent to do?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

NICK

     These might have been Nick’s thoughts when his two youngest children, ages one- and two-years-old, woke him in the wee hours of the morning. His wife and five-year-old son remained sleeping.

     Perhaps to soothe his escalating irritation, Nick stepped outside his family home in a small Missouri town to smoke a cigarette in the wee hours of the December 6, 2011, morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

FRAN

     The holidays bring out the best in most of us.

     What wonderful social gatherings, food flavors we never before tried, people we meet for the first time, gifts we give, gifts we receive.  It’s a joyful time when you can almost believe in peace on earth.

     But there is a downside, a downside that is often preventable but that sometimes just happens. 

     Fire.     Tree fires, house fires, kitchen fires. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

NICK

     Suddenly there was an explosion. Nick ran into the house to find that the explosion had wakened his wife Kelsie.

     What was that? she asked.

     I don’t know but it shot out of the house! Nick responded.

     Seeing smoke and flames coming from their back room, Nick and Kelsie grabbed the three boys and ran to their car. They made it in the nick of time.

     If Nick was resentful and irritated that his two youngest children had awakened him in the middle of the night, the feeling soon disappeared. He began expressing gratitude about his early morning awakefulness and alertness.

     It allowed him to save his family from a sudden fire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

FRAN

     Christmastime fires are almost always caused by forgetting to water the tree, by overloading a circuit with too many strings of lights, or by plugging the lights into faulty wiring, which can cause a quick fire.

     Christmastime is also the start of the cold weather that winter brings. House fires often start with a faulty furnace.

     My family had a rude awakening of this fact when, at six o’clock in the morning on December 6^th my nephews Missouri home exploded, blowing out all the windows. He grabbed two of his sons, his wife grabbed the baby and they ran outside just before two more explosions occurred. The explosions, resulting in a fire that reduced the family home to ashes, appeared to be caused by a leak in the furnace. It allowed gas to surround the furnace. When the furnace kicked on it exploded.

     They lost everything, then again they lost nothing since their family is unhurt and “things” are replaceable, people are not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

NICK

“It sounded like someone had threw a grenade in the house, and it blew everything out the window and everything, and I went running back into the house, and the wife was already up off the couch like, what was that? I go, I don’t know but it shot out of the house!” Nick says.

Nick and Kelsie then saw the smoke and flames coming from the back room and got the three boys out and into the car with little time to spare.  “I didn’t even have time to go in and get my mom’s urn or nothing,” Nick says.  His mother died just four months ago.

“I’d say my mom was on our side by having our two kids be up, because I’m a hard sleeper, and if I got woke up by that, the reaction time would have been a lot slower than what it was,” Nick says.*

~~~~~~~~~~~~

FRAN

     They lost everything, then again they lost nothing. Their family is unhurt. “Things” are replaceable, people are not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The family has received emergency assistance from local agencies

They had no insurance on the home.  If you’d like to make a donation, Nick King can be reached at (417)259-4716. 

Their boys wear sizes 5T, 2T and 24 months.*

SOURCE

* http://www.ky3.com/news/ky3-manes-family-loses-home-and-everything-inside-20111209,0,462213.story

Wait Until the Coffee’s Poured

BEANERY ONLINE LITERARY MAGAZINE

WAIT UNTIL THE COFFEE’S POURED

Janice McLaughlin

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

For holiday meals, the same rules apply

All families have them, there is good reason why.

Wash your hands before sitting, keep elbows off the table

Children should be seen not heard,

Don’t call your cousin a nerd.

Don’t complain because the kitchen swelters.

And whatever you do — don’t interrupt your elders.

No slurping, burping, or passing gas

If you need something, ask someone to pass.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

     It was Thanksgiving, I was about fourteen, and of course my two obnoxious (male) cousins were there, as well as three female cousins. It was the usual huge family celebration with both my Mother’s and Dad’s parents and siblings, and their husbands,   wives, and their children.

     A meal that took more than a day to prepare was usually over in about an hour.

     This time it was cut short. I didn’t ask someone to pass and I reached for the olives.

At the same moment that I reached, someone was pouring (boiling) coffee into a cup.

My arm (of course) was between the cup and the coffee—that’s why you always ask someone to pass.

     I guess I screamed, I really don’t remember that, or the rest of the day. I was wearing a wool sweater; someone pulled it off—along with most of the skin on my arm.  I guess my Dad and Mom took me to the hospital, and I had to spend several days there.

     I suppose the party went on without me, I’m sure the whole group didn’t go to the hospital. 

     I do remember weeks, or months, of returning to the hospital to have the dressing taken off, the burnt skin debraided, and a new dressing applied. I was in a lot of pain for a long time, but I was grafted and I don’t have much of a scar.

     Also, I do remember the smell of my burnt skin. People always say it’s an awful smell—maybe I was just hungry, but I thought it smelled pretty good. YUK!

Living a Car Cruise

BEANERY ONLINE LITERARY MAGAZINE

LIVING A CAR CRUISE

Bob Sanzi

     I don’t know when it happened—it was just a long time ago. I think I know why it happened, though. 

     My dad’s first car, a brand new 1952 “dusk gray” four-door Chevrolet, my impressionable eight-year-old age, and my being his first-born child could explain how my infatuation with all things automotive evolved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

     My father’s childhood was tough—after his father died his mother became too ill to care for their children. Dad was very young at the time he and two of his sisters moved into their paternal uncle’s house. It was an instant family for the uncle and his wife, barely out of her teens. A few years later they had twin boys. 

     As the oldest, my father accepted responsibilities well beyond his years: changing diapers, doing laundry, and grocery shopping stole his childhood. My aunt told stories about her dependence on his help with the “kids,” about how she counted on him. 

     I think my financially challenged father determined I should have

What Makes a Fighter?

BEANERY ONLINE LITERARY MAGAZINE

WHAT MAKES A FIGHTER?

Fran Welts

     She was small, only five feet tall, but she was stronger than the eye beheld.

Debra Lee King (Himes)

     She  always the first one to jump in to the fight, always the first one to come home with skinned knees and a black eye. She defended anyone she thought was being picked on. 

     But sometimes the biggest battles do not come from the small schoolyard brawls we have growing up. Sometimes things hit us before know how to fight back.

     Diagnosed with a rare form of tongue and throat cancer three years ago, she immediately said I

A Barhop Who Lived in Lagrange

BEANERY ONLINE LITERARY MAGAZINE

A BARHOP WHO LIVED IN LAGRANGE

G. David Schwartz

A barhop who lived in Lagrange

Decided that his life was quite strange

And sipping a beer

He said “It’s quite clear,

That no one looks forward to change”

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

ADDITIONAL READING:

A Beanery Writers Group Story in Photographs

Which Lou Loses?

Wait Until the Coffee’s Poured

The Bludgeoned Skull

BEANERY ONLINE LITERARY MAGAZINE

THE BLUDGEOUNED SKULL

G. David Schwartz

The bludgeoned skull,

The face raped by torture

Which gleamed like dark roads

Against the window legend

Saw you jump and hurl

All objects at hand

Towards a