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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books.php/item_id/1317094-Enga-mellom-fjella/sort_by/entry_order DESC, entry_creation_time DESC/sort_by_last/entry_order DESC, entry_creation_time DESC/page/8
Rated: 13+ · Book · Biographical · #1317094
Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills.

Enga mellom Fjella




Sentinel

         Marked
                   as if you own me
I bow before the Bitterroots
and just like you
                   my rocky soil, my withered grass
                   lays prey to the empty sky.

© Kåre Enga 2007 "Sentinel

Daffodils from Mandy.

Reader's Choice of Poems:

"Zmitri
"In the midst of silence
"Between us
"La Bella Vita
"Drugs sold here


Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo:

"Death of Jeannie New Moon
"Doing and don'ting. A scene in 2nd person.
"In a garden of roses, baby
"Footprints in the snow, in memory of Nyia Page
"Poems inspired by maps. Remember 1963?

FACES




PLACES





Yellow cheer from sarah




 Kåre *Delight* Enga

~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go.
~ Elizabeth Bishop
The Fish
Previous ... 4 5 6 7 -8- 9 10 11 12 13 ... Next
July 24, 2022 at 4:24pm
July 24, 2022 at 4:24pm
#1035644
—I'm here to return a heart.
—We don't...
—It's slightly worn and very tired, but it still beats.
—We...
—don't accept hearts. I know. This place operates without one.
— ...
—Don't look so shocked. I used to live here. I had to leave just to find a heart. None for sale or rent within 100 miles.
—We...
—like it that way. I understand. But this heart is special.
—How is that? It looks just like any other heart.
—Oh... are you sure? Look closer.
— ...
—Don't act so afraid.
— ...
—I traced it back to its owner.
—And?
—It once belonged to you.
July 3, 2022 at 4:19pm
July 3, 2022 at 4:19pm
#1034653
8th and final entry for June '22 edition of

Journalistic Intentions  (18+)
This is for the journal keeping types that come to PLAY! New round starts February 1!
#2213121 by Elisa the Bunny Stik


https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheEndingChangesEverything

Let's begin with the trope this time. Can I write and then provide an ending that changes how the story is perceived?

65 degrees at noon. There will be some cloud-shedding drops later.

There's a breeze blowing through the building; coffee clearing out my mind.

Time to write "Coffee Melody".

Coffee Melody

         Sweet caffeine, oh sweet dark brew.
         Add some cream, your lips will do.


It was a troubled time in Torino. The Po was drying up. The Alps were crying, a landslide will bring me down. The Egyptians wanted their mummies back and I was out of coffee.

Sure, Più A Meno would have some but they would also have food and my fat ass didn't need any more and, frankly, I didn't want to move.

I just wanted coffee.

Delivery?

...

The young man stood there —

stark naked.

"You ordered coffee? It's hot and black but I can jerk off in it if you want some cream."


The doorbell brought me to my senses.

A young black-and-beautiful man stood there.

"Você tem açúcar?"

"Sim. Você tem café?"

His smile warmed my morning, as did the coffee, while we sat on the hotel's terrace in Lisbon sipping and chatting.

Brazilian? Angolan? Não. Alfonso was from Cabo Verde, as was the coffee.

I wanted to taste those lips.

...

But I wake up instead.

It's a cool day, 65 degrees at noon in Montana, perhaps some cloud-shedding drops later.

There's a breeze blowing through the old building; coffee clearing out my mind.

Time to write "Coffee Melody".

It was a troubled time in Torino. The Po was drying up.


© Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.42] (3.juli.2022)

ANALYSIS

So I threw in some news. The drought in the Po Valley is serious. A glacier broke off and killed 6. Today's headline: Ice landslide on Mount Marmolada, Italy. Glacier Shard Avalanche.

And I did drink my coffee. And it was breezy. And... I've been to Torino, visited the Egyptian Museum and shopped at the local PAM... cheap food.

And I was desperate to write something so I could finish the challenge so I stole the title of a Thai BL series...

A dream within a dream, a shell within a shell, much like Russian dolls... allows me to startle the reader more than once. And may reveal too much about my dreams! But then again... the reader will never know how much or how little is based on the truth. *Smirk*


~400 words
5814
July 2, 2022 at 11:23pm
July 2, 2022 at 11:23pm
#1034625
7th entry for June '22 edition of
Journalistic Intentions  (18+)
This is for the journal keeping types that come to PLAY! New round starts February 1!
#2213121 by Elisa the Bunny Stik


A dog with violet eyes

Shrek smiled at his good fortune and tossed a stone, tossed a branch.

A dog with light violet eyes caught the branch and brought it back to the boy named Shrek, five-foot-two, eyes-of-coal and weighing all of 7 stone. The young man saw his reflection in its pupils, the wag of tail, the whine as he laid it at Shrek's feet. He picked it up and tossed the branch as far as he could. It soared over a bush, over a ditch, landed fifteen feet away.

The dog came back, again and again until cloud-shadows dimmed the light. Shrek petted him gently and slowly walked down the path to the road, never looking around until he got to the lean-to he had called home since yesterday. It began to sprinkle. At least the cardboard roof didn't leak... much. He knew where to huddle to stay dry.

A wet nose nudged him out of his reverie. Violet eyes bored through him until he nodded, then the dog curled up and went to sleep.

Shrek listened to the patter of rain, the distant drumming off the tin roof of a shed, the gurgle in the gutter. He got up to piddle in a puddle. The dog never moved.

He had a dog, it seemed. He'd search for some food in the morning. Shrek loved blueberries. Dogs ate? Maybe the old lady who had let him stay here could help. She had smiled back at him when he had asked if he could rest here.

Shrek considered his good fortune. He'd been kicked out of home four days ago. Now he had a roof, a dry spot, berries to pick and... a dog.

A dog with violet eyes.

© Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.41] (2.juli.2022)

ANALYSIS

Life is going to be good. Shrek is sure of that. The old lady is kind. The dog followed him home. And the blueberries are ripe!

He may be totally dissociating but... it's all good.

A bit like Pollyanna.

Not to say that wild blackberries guarding the path to the blueberries don't have thorns but a scratch or two is a small price to pay for Paradise.

And the dog may have a flea or two and the old lady seemed to be frail and missing a couple teeth; but, Shrek knew kindness. He had felt it once in third grade.

Everything was going to turn out all right.

So...

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/QuirkyTown

...maybe this is a quirky spot along a country road, a nowhere like Brigadoon... beware of tornadoes? Nah... this is more like Tahlequah and "Where the Red Fern Grows".

When I ran away moved to Oklahoma I ended up in a small town, was taken in by a woman with three kids, lived north of Moodys, down Long John Hill and across the flint-rock creek in a crossroads called Teresita. It was a year of healing.

More than one local mentioned that Tahlequah was a place of healing.

So I've lived among quirky people (the homeless community was quirkiest) and seem to fit in with misfits.

I survived. Shrek will too. And the old lady and the dog with violet eyes are a part of that.


~525 words
July 1, 2022 at 11:40pm
July 1, 2022 at 11:40pm
#1034570
Shrek smiled at his good fortune and tossed a stone, tossed a branch.

A dog with light violet eyes caught the branch and brought it back to the boy named Shrek, five-foot-two, eyes-of-coal and weighing all of 7 stone. The young man saw his reflection in its pupils, the wag of tail, the whine as he laid it at Shrek's feet. He picked it up and tossed the branch as far as he could. It soared over a bush, over a ditch, landed fifteen feet away.

The dog came back, again and again until cloud-shadows dimmed the light. Shrek petted him gently and slowly walked down the path to the road, never looking around until he got to the lean-to he had called home since yesterday. It began to sprinkle. At least the cardboard roof didn't leak... much. He knew where to huddle to stay dry.

A wet nose nudged him out of his reverie. Violet eyes bored through him until he nodded, then the dog curled up and went to sleep.

Shrek listened to the patter of rain, the distant drumming off the tin roof of a shed, the gurgle in the gutter. He got up to piddle in a puddle. The dog never moved.

He had a dog, it seemed. He'd search for some food in the morning. Shrek loved blueberries. Dogs ate? Maybe the old lady who had let him stay here could help. She had smiled back at him when he had asked if he could rest here.

Shrek considered his good fortune. He'd been kicked out of home four days ago. Now he had a roof, a dry spot, berries to pick and... a dog.

A dog with violet eyes.
June 28, 2022 at 9:32pm
June 28, 2022 at 9:32pm
#1034428
6th entry for June '22 edition of
Journalistic Intentions  (18+)
This is for the journal keeping types that come to PLAY! New round starts February 1!
#2213121 by Elisa the Bunny Stik


The hand that threw the brick stopped the train

Sheila sat at her second-hand desk, glanced at a piece of paper placed in front her, looked up at the hulk standing over her.

The hand that threw the brick stopped the train.

Sheila read the color-coded note twice. Well, duh. Her eyebrows arched. "Any more details, Inspector Wallace?"

"The brick matches a thousand others in this town. The conductor didn't see anything before the window shattered."

"The hand?"

"No fingerprints."

How convenient. Sheila bore him with her eyes. "Any motive?"

"None we know of."

Oh? I could think of a few. "Suspects?"

"None, other than that railroad gang we keep hearing about."

Nice deflection. Too bad that won't work. "Who's working with you on this case?"

"It's just me. Quackers is on vacation."

"Sargeant Catriona Macquarie is on vacation?"

"Yeah, got a pile of work on my desk."

I'm sure you do. "I'm sure this is more important than serving warrants for traffic violations, Inspector."

"I..."

"The Chief expects a detailed report in two days... Inspector."

"I dunno... that gang leader is one bad hombre... may need backup."

"Yeah." Sheila laughed. She took one glance at the beefy fingers that had grabbed her last Tuesday clasped around the pen as if to strangle it. She smiled. She knew who the truly bad guy was. It took one to catch one, they said. She was badder.

Chief Stacy Stanowicz had known that when she hired her.


© Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.38] (25.juni.2022)

Original in "The hand that threw the brick stopped the train [38] 275w

ANALYSIS

Well... there's bad and then there's badder. I might make Sheila an ex-con on parole. That'll learn the inspector. *Laugh*

No room for good-guys here. I suspect that gang isn't a bunch of sweet-smelling dudes, especially if they are FTRA (Freight Train Riders of America). The inspector? Ask Sheila. Maybe the Chief is 'good' but in my experience she'd know about the 'other side'. The saying that "the only difference between a criminal and a cop is the badge" comes to mind. Fortunately, I've known wonderful cops.

Chauvin however...

The corrupt cop is a frequent character in nordic-noir. Jo Nesbø's Harry Hole comes to mind.

Whether this is Broken Ace or Bad Guy Wins I don't know. Maybe I'll find out when I turn the page...

Then again, maybe they're ALL bad, in which case it's "Bad Guy Bar" where the bar is the local cop shop.

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadGuyBar

~400 words
58.007
June 27, 2022 at 11:44pm
June 27, 2022 at 11:44pm
#1034375
The office secretary Sheila Brown sat at her second-hand desk, glanced at a piece of paper placed in front her, looked up at the hulk standing over her, but didn't flinch. In this line of work one never flinched. "Secretaries Rule" was posted where anyone couldn't miss it.

The hand that threw the brick stopped the train.

Sheila read the color-coded scrawl twice. Well, duh. Her eyebrows arched. "Any more details, Inspector Wallace?"

"The brick matches a thousand others in this town. The conductor didn't see anything before the window shattered."

"The hand?"

"No fingerprints."

How convenient. Sheila bore him with her eyes. "Any motive?"

"None we know of."

Oh? I could think of a few. "Suspects?"

"None, other than that railroad gang we keep hearing about."

Nice deflection. Too bad that won't work. "Who's working with you on this case?"

"It's just me. Quackers is on vacation."

"Sergeant Catriona Macquarie is on vacation?"

"Yeah, got a pile of work on my desk."

I'm sure you do. "I suspect that this may be more important than serving warrants for traffic violations, Inspector."

"I..."

"The Chief expects a detailed report in two days... Inspector."

"I dunno... that gang leader is one bad hombre... may need backup."

"Yeah." Sheila laughed and placed the note in her in-box as he turned and left. She took one quick glance at the beefy fingers that had grabbed her last Tuesday clasped around a pen as if to strangle it. She smiled. She knew who the truly bad guy was. It took one to catch one, they said. She was badder.

Chief Stacy Stanowicz had known that when she hired her.
June 25, 2022 at 11:07pm
June 25, 2022 at 11:07pm
#1034289
Based on: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/JadeColoredGlasses

5th entry for June '22 edition of
Journalistic Intentions  (18+)
This is for the journal keeping types that come to PLAY! New round starts February 1!
#2213121 by Elisa the Bunny Stik


Just about half past ten

"Praying won't work."

"Sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Why?"

"It's not 1982, barns aren't made of wishes, grass doesn't float in the sky, and clouds don't rain men."

"Unless you're the Weather Girls."

"And dinosaurs aren't purple and green unless you're Barney."

"Do you have a yellow blankey like Baby Bop, Martha?"

"Nyet, Izora."

...

"Wish it would rain..."

"Men?"

"No, the grass is turning brown."

"Well, I'm kinda dry and thirsty as well."

"For men?"

"Now that you mention it..."

"I'll tell that one lonesome cloud to work on it."

"I'll be in the yard bringing our horse into the barn while you do."

"What horse?"

"The rainbow painted pony you refused to buy me for my birthday, cowboy."

...

"The twister just missed the barn. Did you see that green sky?"

"Yep."

"Well, at least it's raining now."

"Yeah, ducky. Catch any men flying by when you went out to check on the unicorn, Izora?"

"Not all my prayers were answered, Martha."


© Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.36] (25.juni.2022)

Original in "Just about half past ten [36] ~160 words

ANALYSIS

All dialogue... not the easiest choice on my part, but I hope it works. I used differing fonts to make sure the two characters were distinguishable.

Not sure whether 'Martha' was just grumpy, frustrated or negative... drought will do that to a 'farmer'. Although it's not stated where they live, there's a Mid-West feeling about it. As the two characters obviously know each other well, they could easily be bachelor Norwegian farmers in the Dakotas.

The use of Martha/Izora makes one wonder whether they are in a same sex relationship... and male.

But, because the names are female they could just as easily be two women making a living out-on-the-range.

Stereotypes can lead to false conclusions.

Is my character Martha jaded enough? I'll let others decide that. Still Martha seems jaded while Izora may be wearing rose-colored-bi-focals.

By-the-way... the Weather Girls were Martha Wash and Izora Armstead. Originally 'Two Tons O' Fun' they definitely shamed the fat-shamers with their voices, presence and dance moves. Their hit record rose to #1 in 1982.

The song is fun, catchy and is used by the gay community as a type of anthem (with a couple word changes).

For your enjoyment:


~370 words (160+210)
58.006
June 25, 2022 at 9:29pm
June 25, 2022 at 9:29pm
#1034286
"Praying won't work."

"Sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Why?"

"It's not 1982, barns aren't made of wishes, grass doesn't float in the sky, and clouds don't rain men."

"Unless you're the Weather Girls."

"And dinosaurs aren't purple and green unless you're Barney."

"Do you have a yellow blankey like Baby Bop, Martha?"

"Nyet, Izora."

...

"Wish it would rain..."

"Men?"

"No, the grass is turning brown."

"Well, I'm kinda dry and thirsty as well."

"For men?"

"Now that you mention it..."

"I'll tell that one lonesome cloud to work on it."

"I'll be in the yard bringing our horse into the barn while you do."

"What horse?"

"The rainbow painted pony you refused to buy me for my birthday, cowboy."

...

"The twister just missed the barn. Did you see that green sky?"

"Yep."

"Well, at least it's raining now."

"Yeah, ducky. Catch any men flying by when you went out to check on the unicorn, Izora?"

"Not all my prayers were answered, Martha."

June 23, 2022 at 7:25pm
June 23, 2022 at 7:25pm
#1034159
"You can see your breath hanging in the air,
see homeless people, but you just don't care.
A sea of fake smiles in which to gladly drown.
Welcome to Paradise, keep drinking, don't frown."


But Paradise had a price and he was being priced out of town.

Sunny looked around. Bozeman wasn't the same. The booze scene had gotten old and the snow-bunnies younger. He was still good looking but 20 years had taken it's toll. And now with a broken leg? At least it wasn't his leg that others found desirable.

He'd come to MSU for a degree and to ski. By now he was more American than Thai. Was it time to leave this crapsack town? He'd received a plea to help with his grandfather. At age 94 it was obvious that he wouldn't live forever in spite of his daily bike-ride and rice-and-spice diet.

Arthit (อาทิตย์1). Sunny said his Thai name out-loud. He'd have to get used to it. His older brother would pick him up. His old room would be ready. Anong (อนงค์2)?

They'd kept in touch but Anong had a new boyfriend. Number? Sunny himself didn't do relationships that lasted over three days. Like fish...

Montanans didn't believe in fish or rice or anything with spice. His grandpa's diet would kill them. 20 years of bleached wheat bread, dead bird, and bland overcooked broccoli? He could do better.

The thought of deep fried squid-on-a-stick finally brought a smile to his face.

Anong-the-once-beautiful?

That too.

He'd sell what he could. He'd travel light. It would be a one-way ticket to no-snow-never-again in the Land of Smiles.

His parents wanted him to settle-in and settle-down. Maybe Anong would be available again by the time he arrived.



Footnotes
1  Arthit = sun
2  Anong = beautiful

June 22, 2022 at 11:31pm
June 22, 2022 at 11:31pm
#1034127
Based on this: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CrapsackWorld

4th entry for the June '22 edition of

Journalistic Intentions  (18+)
This is for the journal keeping types that come to PLAY! New round starts February 1!
#2213121 by Elisa the Bunny Stik


เครปแซ็ก (Crapsack)

"You can see your breath hanging in the air,
see homeless people, but you just don't care.
A sea of fake smiles in which to gladly drown.
Welcome to Paradise, keep drinking, don't frown."


But Paradise had a price and he was being priced out of town.

Sunny looked around. Bozeman wasn't the same. The booze scene had gotten old and the snow-bunnies younger. He was still good looking but 20 years had taken it's toll. And now with a broken leg? At least it wasn't his leg that others found desirable.

He'd come to MSU for a degree and to ski. By now he was more American than Thai. Was it time to leave this crapsack town? He'd received a plea to help with his grandfather. At age 94 it was obvious that he wouldn't live forever in spite of his daily bike-ride and rice-and-spice diet.

Arthit (อาทิตย์3). Sunny said his Thai name out-loud. He'd have to get used to it. His older brother would pick him up. His old room would be ready. Anong (อนงค์4)?

They'd kept in touch but Anong had a new boyfriend. Number? Sunny himself didn't do relationships that lasted over three days. Like fish...

Montanans didn't believe in fish or rice or anything with spice. His grandpa's diet would kill them. 20 years of bleached wheat bread, dead bird, and bland overcooked broccoli? He could do better.

The thought of deep fried squid-on-a-stick finally brought a smile to his face.

Anong-the-once-beautiful?

That too.

He'd sell what he could. He'd travel light. It would be a one-way ticket to no-snow-never-again in the Land of Smiles.

His parents wanted him to settle-in and settle-down. Maybe Anong would be available again by the time he arrived.


© Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.35] (21.juni.2022)

ANALYSIS

"A Crapsack World is a horrible setting where the jaded notion of "anything that can go wrong will go horribly, horribly wrong" almost always applies..." "If a Sugar Bowl (usually the antithesis of this trope) turns out to be one of these under the surface, then you have yourself a Crapsaccharine World. If the people who live in the Crapsack World don't realise or pretend it isn't a horrible place to be in, it is a False Utopia."

Bozeman is wealthy. The beautiful people have bought out the Dutch ranchers to own their own ranchette, complete with a horse-for-show, within driving distance of a ski-slope. Bozeman is more crapsaccharine and a false utopia as I doubt folks see/admit the underbelly any more than here in Missoula.

Hard to depict a place in 300 words but 'skier breaks his leg', 'everyone's favorite whore grows old', 'can't afford rent' (that's non-fiction here in Montana) ... describes a mid-life crisis in Purgatory not Paradise.

Plus Arthit is Thai. Most Thais have a sunny disposition and many ski-bunnies do too... until the money runs out. At least most Thais have strong family support. Americans? Maybe; but, many depend on bank accounts not family.

Perhaps I'm the one that's jaded? Yeah... I can live with that. I recognize the underbelly everywhere I go. Poverty, homelessness and being traumatized and marginalized will do that.

When I do get to Thailand I will see the smiles, but I'll also look beyond them.

Montana? I'm so over and done with you.


~550 words
58.000

Footnotes
3  Arthit = sun
4  Anong = beautiful


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