Enga mellom fjella

Boo. The Brethren of the Beard. Blood of the Bean.

Boo

Too shy to cry out to the sun:
I am here,
I am here;
Boo hides in the shadows of fear
cast by her brother, her mother, her father,
even her sister,
no slave to the times nor the culture,
brave enough to stand and fall on her own terms.

Boo squirms
in the heat of the fray,
seeks the coldness behind curtains,
the boldness of others
crushing her to the end of her days.

She stands lonely

yet calm

in the quiet
of her long lonely days.

Yet Boo's amazed
when life passes her by
all-too-quickly,
her eyes hidden by wigs
her limbs losing vigor.

On a shelf called emotion
stands one frozen figure.

© 2008 Kåre Enga [165.218] 2008-08-23

The prompt is italicized and comes from a poem, "The Loneliness of my Brother" written by Sheryl Noethe. [I use 'one' instead of 'a'.]

ME:

Avoiding the River Festival for a moment (image overload and too loud and too crowded).

At the morning's market, I said hello to Susan-the-Face-Painter, hunted down the elusive roasted garlic cheese curds, the shy empanada filled with lamb.

I celebrated by running off to Butterfly and Herbs for coffee and a table to write on. Wrote another short story for Blood of the Garlic. In this one my character 'friend' Knyflok decides to set up a coffee kiosk. Being the a-hole that I am (my character is called Ajo) I assist. I think this short one will be titled "Blood of the Bean". Wrote the poem above too.

My writing? 48+ sketches in the month of August so far. If I don't set aside time soon to enter and edit I may never catch up.

Yesterday, I went to the Missoula Indian Center affair in the park. Got me my fry bread. I'm addicted to fry bread. Wrote a poem about the drumming and dancing.

The students are back. This is good news ... I think.

Today is my sister's birthday. She's hit 55. Good thing they upped the speed limit, doncha feel her pain?

Brethren of the Beard

Don, the husband of Jamie a.k.a. Just Jamie , will have to be designated the head of the Maryland chapter with HQ here in Montana. Mountain men are known for their beards, no? Jamie and I have joked about this. Beards are a dilemma for many men. Some can't grow them on the face; some can't stop them from growing on the ears, in the nose, anywhere but where the hair is needed. When my beard irritates me more than others, off it comes!

The title would be good for a group of writings (poems, prose, short stories) about men's issues (Yes, all you dear womyn, men have ISSUES; we just are better at cruising down the River of Denial than y'all )

Montana: sunny and warming. 82º at 16:00.

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