%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |   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"   Reader's Choice of Poems: "'heart's home'" "Glice" "Between us" "I, Katrina" "Wheat penny" Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" :"Death of Jeannie New Moon" "Winter: 18 Mas'il (December 29)" "Even in chaos ... More hockey poems." "Holy day. Autumn in November. A mole." "Wheat penny. Gave in, started a forum." FACES     PLACES            Kåre  Enga~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
| Bronze or silver would've been fine, even as a fourth son I could've been me. But I was the golden child, flaxen haired and smiley, albeit weak and half-blind. I fled to the margins, the seat next to the window or door, escape route noted before I entered. In my shell I was alert and wary. I seldom realized how unpopular I was. It took years for me to realize that the baseball team thought of me as their mascot. Maybe that was a blessing. Yes, I was the fragile golden child, protected, hid. Their highest hope and greatest disappointment. |
| Once I looked into the bull's eyes, I knew I couldn't eat him. His tag said Moses. My older brother's pet ruled the pastures long ago, and now would be lead to slaughter. A bullseye emblazoned his hide. Moses quietly approached the fence and leaned into my hand when I went to pet him. We looked deep into each others eyes. I saw good hay, willing heifers and home. Home. What did he see? I started humming "Let my people go". I lead him down the ramp and kept on going. It was time for me to set him free. |
| Sheldon grabbed Cassie. They ran as fast as they could. If they were late they wouldn't be fed. They hadn't eaten yesterday. Late again. Nothing but bread was left. But it would keep them alive for one more day. They walked back through the unkempt park past the pond. Three ducks greeted them, begging. They had it tough too. Geese had gleaned cornfields before the overseers had burnt everything, leaving ashes. Sheldon broke off pieces of bread, tossed them to the ducks, whispering, you deserve better than this, then took Cassie's hand and guided her to their hidden tent. |
| And I was green. Green as green could be until you turned blue, holding your breath and waiting for my response. I could tell you now. You've been dead 50 years. I still see your kind eyes. So sad I never got to know the heartbeat behind them. There's nothing left but a single memory and a friend who resembles you in so many ways. He was born nine months after your death. I haven't seen him in years. I've told him how I feel. Now I'm the one who waits. How many years remain until we meet again. Not all things match up. Not all ends meet where they can be tied and bound together. Your winter will become my spring; your summer my beloved's autumn. And seasons are recycled, but never the same. I remember your name. You know my answer. ~143 words needs editing or change of form. |
| Cherry or Vanilla? Chocolate. Coffee or tea? Chocolate. Him or me? Chocolate. Valentines Day is looming. Chocolate hearts. Chocolate covered cherries. Boxes of chocolate. Preferably Belgian. Made in Belgium. Served by Belgians in Belgium. Bruxelles or Brugge will do. It should cost $600 round trip. I'll remember to bring some back for you. Maybe. That's if you serve me some cocoa, hot, with a dash of cayenne. What? No chocolate? You think I should have a banana vanilla shake instead? Do I look a vanilla monkey to you? And now you think a Hersheys kiss will do? Andre! Norma Jean! ...and that's how the fight started. |
| "Words won't come." "Should they?" "It's due tomorrow, 11 a.m." Preuk looked at the river rising. It would flood and it hadn't stopped raining. He sighed. Why didn't words burst forth? San had heard this before. Never-ending rain and worry... until the sun broke out. "The rice fields seem happy and the buffalo don't mind." "Yes, uncle, but I'm a bird sheltering under a mango leaf and I'm hungry." "Write about that." So Preuk did: wet, hungry, drip drip drip, the "Song of the flood". The next morning Preuk sloshed through the mud. He could hear birdsong as clouds parted. |
| Dial-an-age "You dialed wrong." Mikhail was upset. Once wrinkled he now had a zit about to burst and a voice that kept breaking between bird-chirp and timpani. He was distraught. Robin looked the same as ever. 22 and va-va-voom. He looked down where something ought to be rising. No va no voom. Robin just laughed. "You should get ready. Off to school now." Mikhail remembered his father's voice. Robin was... Nah. His father had died a couple years before Robin was born. That possibility ... made him shudder. "You're not my daddy." "Oh, but I want to be. As soon as you grow up, that is." Mikhail felt his eyes water as Robin put his arms around him. "It's okay Micky. I can wait. Or you could just redial and try again." Robin's warmth made something stir. There was hope.
|
| I've been over rutted roads. So important not to stop. Getting stuck sucks. Like that time in Kansas, just enough fresh snow covering the roads I didn't know changed from asphalt to gravel, my first car sliding into the ditch, somehow missing trees and bushes. I went looking for someone to pull me out. And they did. Amazing, the kindness of strangers! But I've been in deeper ruts since, unaware I was being sucked into the quagmire, even after I crawled out, stood up, and ran away. I hadn't learned my lesson. Now I'm stuck again. Time to move on. |
| I'm tired of living. Tired of getting up to disappointment. Too tired to die. Coffee beckons. I'll ignore the mess. Just as I've ignored most memories. What's done remains done. No second chance. No new adventures... ...that will change anything. If I don't get up today will the Sun in mourning refuse to rise. I'd ask the Moon but he's not talking to me anymore. My Muse left town long ago. Ah, they come to dress me. Those who wish to inherit my wealth. The joke's on them. Time to leave my chrysalis, sprout new wings, time to fly away. |
| Beyond the forest painted white, beyond the city lights aglow, She lay in a pile of hay and compost contemplating the life within her that did not wish to wait. She wasn't quite ready to repopulate this world of wondrous cold. She'd wandered, pondered and waited centuries for this moment. The long journey to the homeland, fraught with wars among the stars, weighed heavy tonight. And now She was no longer sure it was worth it as spasms reminded Her that not everything was under Her control. At least the snow had made those visions of arrival seem real. The gathering of trees had parted as She wended her way among them, their branches singing the carols Her ancestors had taught them. Welcome home, they wept in an accent strange yet soothing. By daylight Her litter snuggled close, burrowed into layers of sagging flesh and fur, free of her womb that had kept them safe and secure. Now they would sleep but by evening they would wake hungry and begin to devour her. This had always been their way. She nuzzled each one impressing upon them their mission. They already knew their names. In a week they would leave, each a mini version of herself: the Warrior, the Fire Eater, the Water Diviner, the Mage, the Sage, the Mother-of-Thousands. Each would become a legend, summon forth a hoard of conquerors, as her bones returned to dust and birthed the myth called Mother. Yes, the city lights would beckon. A pulsating market of flesh to feast on awaited them. The trees would guide the way. The snow would hide their passage. Yes, She had chosen well. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.293c] (24.december.2021) 281 words for
|
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
