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 |   Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
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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"   Reader's Choice of Poems: "Sentinel" "Where grows the compost heap" "Between us" "Speak soft my name" "Plain cover jacket" 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." "Even in chaos ... More hockey poems." "Footprints in the snow, in memory of Nyia Page" "Poems inspired by maps. Remember 1963?" FACES     PLACES            Kåre  Enga~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
| The waft of garlic and the wooden stake in the corner should have warned me. A thin cackle should have made me turn around. But I'm curious, pale and not too bright when I wake up after a century. I peaked around the half-opened door. An old hag was stirring a cauldron. “I don’t have time for this.” "You have nothing but time, my dear." The crone kept stirring. "Look it's twilight and soon the vampires will be waking up.' "Are you, a vampire slayer, afraid of that!" The cackle was full-throated now. "No. I just want to make my quota." "For the year or the decade?" The young blond woman crossed her arms and said nothing. "Been a bit of a drought, has it." "I don't have time to talk." "Do you have time to check on your boyfriend you sealed up in that coffin? It's about time for him to wake up." I looked for a place to hide. I could hear the scream. "It's empty." The crone laughed. "I need that potion now! He won't escape if I hurry." The crone smiled, said nothing and kept on stirring, sipping the ladle now and again. "It's almost ready," she finally said. "Good. Give me some now." "Oh, it's not for you my dear. It's for him." The crone's eyes beckoned. I should've known better. |
David McClain  (Tor): often times the best of us resides in our shadow selves.For "Space Blog" "Still and Snow" [E] by Solace.Bring  Not my favorite by SB. It doesn't flow smoothly in more than one place; e.g. 'with company' could be 'together'. There are extraneous words that make it read like prose instead of poetry. A couple 'and's' could be striked and both instances of 'is' can be replaced with a static or 'slow motion' verb. That said, the piece is peaceful and paints a lovely scene, especially for those of us who grew up in Snow Country or who love the snow. If I sound harsh it's because I like SB's writings and this doesn't quite measure up. As is I rate it a 3.9. Prompt: Do you like snow? Tell us about it. Yes. Grew up with it. In spite of the difficulties it can create for adult humans, my inner child always marvels at it. Snow shadows The wheels of the bus turn, churning the snow as we go over the pass from Idaho, a paved path threading through the mountains of Montana. We ascend. Lookout rises to 1,436 meters above sea level. Nothing to see. We descend. We slip and slide into the bowels of ancient Lake Missoula, now guarded by pines festooned with snow. we sit still — the moon shadowed road moves beneath us The full Moon follows us. Out here there is nothing to watch in winter. It must be bored. Nothing scurries over the surface of white. Perhaps an owl hunting by moonlight. Perhaps not. The snow has muffled the trees' deaf ears against our passing. Our headlights pick up nothing but snow. pristine crystals shimmer in the moonlight — not one hoot It's clear enough to see eternity. Few humans visit during the fleeting summer; fewer live here. The woods rejoice in our absence, stretching limbs to starlit skies, dark shadows stretching towards the North Pole in the moonlight, as if to grab us, almost touching, pulling back from our warmth and alien life forms encased in a moving tin can. Our sighting a mere moment to be forgotten by dawn. black pines — shadows alive at night die with the dawn KE [177.290] (17.desember.2020) In response to "writing is a piece of cake", my advice to wordy writers: "Frosting may make a cake look pretty but if it doesn't taste good it doesn't matter. Talking about it is nice. A picture is better. But a piece in one's mouth and another sitting on the plate eager to be eaten is best. Vomit 500 or 1000 words then rinse, wash and edit to 300. Get rid of the clutter. The right adjective is worth a hundred meaningless ones. 'Is' and 'the' tell me little and show me nothing. Evoke an emotion; any will do. If Hemingway can do it in 6 words you don't need 60 thousand." 57.262 |
| A stack of books to be read; bolded = finished (categories) {with mini-book-review}: behind the beautiful forevers Katherine Boo 2012: (3, 4, 30, 38) The Accidental Genius of Weasel High Rick Detone 2011 YA (2, 14, 23, 25, 43, 52) Bellman & Black Diane Setterfield 2013 (8, 11, 44) Frisk Dennis Cooper 1991 (22, 44, 52) Good Morning, Mr. Zip Zip Zip Richard Schickel 2003 [anti-memoir WW2] (7, 26, 34) Autumn Letters Michael Frederick 2004 (1, 25, 26) In the Beauty of the Lilies John Updike 1996 (41) The Flower Drum song C. Y. Lee 1957 (13, 18) Killing Time in Buffalo Deidre S. Laiken 1990 (home town 26) The Midwife's Tale Gretchen Moran Laskas 2003 (4?) Why the Chimes Rang Raymond MacDonald Alden 1906 Children (15, 25, 32, 52) Child of a Rainless Year Jane Lindskold 2005 (2, 4?, 21) For/from
Week 1 - 1st January - A book with the first letter of the title being "A". Week 2 - 8th January - A book written in first person POV. Week 3 - 15th January - An author's debut book. Week 4 - 22nd January - A book set in a country you'd like to visit, but never have. Week 5 - 29th January - A book published in 2020. Week 6 - 5th February - A book by your favourite author. Week 7 - 12th February - A non-fiction book. Week 8 - 19th February - A book with punctuation in the title. Week 9 - 26th February - A book with a number in the title. Week 10 - 5th March - A book from Amazon's 100 Books to Read in a Lifetime list Week 11 - 12th March - A book with a colour in the title. Week 12 - 19th March - A book with the first letter of the title being "N". Week 13 - 26th March - A book that's been made into a movie. Week 14 - 2nd April - A book you chose because you liked the cover. Week 15 - 9th April - A book written before 1950. Week 16 - 16th April - A book written by an author with the same first and last initial. Week 17 - 23rd April - Wildcard! You can choose any book you wish. Week 18 - 30th April - A book that is also a play/musical. Week 19 - 7th May - A book that has been adapted into a TV show. Week 20 - 14th May - A book with more than one author. Week 21 - 21st May - A book with a weather element in the title. Week 22 - 28th May - A book with a title that doesn't contain the letters "E" or "A". Week 23 - 4th June - A book with a long title (5+ words). Week 24 - 11th June - A book with a one word title. Week 25 - 18th June - A book set in a fictional location. Week 26 - 25th June - A book set in your home-country. Week 27 - 2nd July - Wildcard! You can choose any book you wish. Week 28 - 9th July - A book with an animal on the cover. Week 29 - 16th July - A book set in the future. Week 30 - 23rd July - A New York Times bestseller. Week 31 - 30th July - A book originally written in a different language. Week 32 - 6th August - A book with one of the five W’s, or H in the title (Who/What/Where/When/Why/How) Week 33 - 13th August - A book guaranteed to make you happy, for whatever reason. Week 34 - 20th August - A book with a name in the title (e.g. Sarah, John, Lorraine) Week 35 - 27th August - A book from your favourite genre. Week 36 - 3rd September - A book someone else has previously read for this challenge (check the forum!) Week 37 - 10th September - The first book in a series you've never heard of. Week 38 - 17th September - A book not set in the US or UK. Week 39 - 24th September - Wildcard! You can choose any book you wish. Week 40 - 1st October - A book with food or drink in the title. Week 41 - 8th October - A book you've wanted to read for a while, but haven't gotten around to it. Week 42 - 15th October - A book with a date in the title (day, month, year etc.) Week 43 - 22nd October - A book with a title that starts "The". Week 44 - 29th October - A book with horror elements. Week 45 - 5th November - A book with an element in the title (earth, air, fire, water) Week 46 - 12th November - A book with a cover that puts you off Week 47 - 19th November - A book published the year you were born Week 48 - 26th November - A book with the first letter of the title being "H" Week 49 - 3rd December - Reread one of your favourite books Week 50 - 10th December - A book published in 2021 Week 51 - 17th December - Wildcard! You can choose any book you wish. Week 52 - 24th December - A short book, less than 200 pages. |
| All the roads are closed. Snow drifts along the line of pines and fills in last week's ruts. All life rests hushed, the only muffled sound a helicopter overhead on its way to the hospital. "Another one." "Yes." The old man stirs his coffee as his son makes three bologna sandwiches. Two for his old man he seems so thin and one for himself. "I'll need to go out and shovel soon." "No, dad." "I need to do something, maybe clear the path before they come for me." Every day the same conversation over coffee, breakfast, dinner, supper. We have enough in the pantry for two months. No need to go out. "Maybe I'll do a crossword instead." After the plates are washed there isn't anything to do. It's just the two of them. It's not like they have a horse or a half a dozen pigs like years ago. Just an old house on a farm slowly returning to the sod. "Think Mabel will stop by?" "Doubt it." Mabel hadn't stopped by in a year. They'd hear about her now and again. The diner was always full of gossip on rainy summer days. They hadn't gone into town since then. Another muffled sound. "Wonder what that is." "Maybe they're plowing the road." "Better get the walk cleared then if they're coming to take me." "No dad," he said softly as he guided his father back to his chair. 57.250 |
| The phone buzzed. "I made peanut brittle." "So... Hooves... You have everyone's address, don't you? I mean to say ... it couldn't hurt making up a batch a day and sending them our way! Or better yet, cashew brittle. I love cashews." She laughed. It doesn't take much to get an Irish gal to laugh. I jotted it down, buy cashews. I 'cook' by grabbing whatever's handy. Usually two pieces of bread and whatever can't scurry away fast enough. That last piece of bologna was real s l o w last night. Maybe I should make cashew chicken, add honey and open that can of mandarin orange slices I bought last year when I could afford them. I sighed. If Hooves only delivered... I swear that the geraniums nodded in agreement in their window. Water, sunlight, dirt. They didn't demand much. Which was wise. The once full cupboards were looking a bit bare. I smiled reminding myself that I had made a goal two years ago to lose weight. How much do cashews cost? Maybe peanuts would work. I put on my coat to brave the cold and the frigid stares of my housemates as I slunk down the two flights of stairs and out the door into the night. I didn't get far. The patrol caught me at the corner and demanded to know whether I was allowed out on odd days. I had forgotten. Excuses don't matter these days. One strike and that's that. 'Thinning the herd' was their motto. Mercy doesn't visit dark cold cells where you don't eat if friends don't feed you. I dreamt of peanut brittle. I dreamt of warmth and light. I dreamt that I called Hooves at home and as her phone rang on and on, I dreamt that someone answered. |
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