fredag den 22. november 2019

Genjuan Haibun contest - 2018

  Some time ago, I received an invitation to the annual Genjuan haibun contest. I have participated for a couple of years, but as I was unable to see the literary qualities in the winning pieces, as compared to the contribitions of the non-winners, I just stopped sending in anything. As Lissa so aply writes on her blog:  
The few writing contests that I was involved in all had the one thing in common - all the winning stories are boring. I am not saying they shouldn't win, I'm saying why does the most boring story wins? Maybe these stories aren't boring, maybe they are for a more sophisticated audience so I can't understand them and that's why I think they are boring. They just seems to lack something exciting or meaningful to me. I don't know. I just don't understand it.
Now I try publishing my pieces here one at a time. Please tell me what you think.
Maybe I'm just exposing my own naiveté, then so be it.

-- はいぶん --

This was my entry for 2018. The winners and honourable menitonings can be found here.

Speciesism?
    Finally reaching the bus stop; burden placed squarely at a conveniently placed electricity box. The few minutes until the bus arrived was best spent relaxing my arms and catching my breath.

Red-brown across road,
A tabby cat closely follows.
Safety in heights.

  Suddenly, tired lungs forgotten, parcels left at the bus stop, I found myself running, clapping my hands and yelling. Of course siding with the poor squirrel confronted by ferocious claws and jaws. Wouldn't we all do the same?

  Arriving at my home stop, once again picking up my parcels. An old man stands at the bus stop looknig confused, consulting time table and wrist watch again and agin.
 "I'm suffering from de ... erm ...dem ..."
 "Dementia,"  I kindly asked. On his nodding, I proceeded to explain the time table and telling him the time. He seemed to know where and why to go, only the intricate skills of relating a time table to a watch eluded him. I was not afraid to leave him on his own.

  Finally lifting my burden, I plodded on; ignoring the yells from inside the gym: "Bloody Hell, can't you ever stop doing that?"

Squirrels and old men,
Sunshine on heavy parcels
Sorry for children.

torsdag den 21. november 2019

Words for Wednesday -- 20 November -- Part 2

As Susan, Linda and their parents were preparing to go to bed in Granny's tiny spare bedrooms, Susan asked Mom why they never slept at Auntie G's place. "She even has a real toilet, not this smelly outhouse."
"Auntie G often work night shift, so she do not like other people sleeping in her home. I also think she often brings home friends after work. She won't disturb us, or let us disturb her."
Next morning after breakfast, which they ate in the garden by the flagpole, Dad said it was time to go home.
"Oh," Granny said, "I had hoped you'd have stayed for a couple of days, we need to have the roof re-thatched, and Auntie G and her girls can't help all day. Myrtle has as you all know, started her own life, and only come visiting occasionally, The two younger cousins have both taken various jobs around here, and Auntie G has been called to work all week. It seems a lot of the staff at the hospital is either ill or on holiday."
"Roof thatching?" Mum said, "I don't know anything about it at all."  
"Actually it's quite easy," Auntie G said. "I can teach you before i have to be off for work. It's not difficult at all, just tiring, that's why we need many people to do it. You have to sit in the attic, there's not much room, but it's OK, The thatcher does all the hard stuff on the outside, he then puts a giant needle in through the reeds. Our job is to return the needle to the outside, in the right spot."
"Oh that's what all those giant rolls of reeds outside is for," Linda said. They smell so good."
Cousin Helen stood up and emptied the coffee pot at the base of the flagpole.
"Does it grow?" Susan asked.
"No, I don't think so," Helen answered. She carried a tray full of stuff inside Granny's kitchen and soon after they could see her head bobbing away over the hedge, biking off to work.
"I'm off too" the youngest of the cousins said. "I'm helping out at a lawyer's office for the summer holidays," she said to Mum and Dad,
"Well," Granny said. "The thatcher will be here shortly. I'll do the dishes, Susan could you please help me dry?"
Granny's kitchen was like herself, old, worn, practical and full of nice smells. Susan quickly and carefully dried all the thin plates and cups they had used for breakfast, then all the silverware, the pots and pans and finally the big bowl used for dough. Together Susan and Granny put away all the things. while granny cleaned out the sink, Susan shook the coffee grinder in the small bin for coffee grounds.
A knock on the door startled them and Granny hurried out. Susan stayed in the kitchen, straightening things, watering plants and listening.
It was one of the ladies from the nearby tiny fishing village, one of the men down there had had an accident. Granny grabbed her bag and left with the neighbour.

Soon after, the thatcher arrived. Auntie G took first Mum, then Dad, who was rather too big to fit into the attic, then Susan and finally Linda up and showed them how and where to return the big needle to the thatcher. As she had said, it was tiring, but not difficult. They took turns returning the needle all morning, Granny returned while Susan was up in the attic, and could follow her by looking through the rafters. Susan saw her put her bag back on the hook go into the kitchen, she heard the refrigerator door, and then Granny came out carrying a basket, which she took into the garden to harvest strawberries, salad, kale and peas for today's lunch. She called on Linda to pull some carrots, and Dad to fill the through by the pump.
The thatcher ate together with them, he was a local, and soon he, Granny and Mum were talking of people, they knew, their children, cousins, uncles and aunts. Susan and Linda slunk away when the strawberries were all eaten. Rye bread with sliced strawberries tasted good. And the freshly smoked eel, which Granny had brought back from the fisher's village was delicious.
They did not work for long after lunch, as the thatcher ran out of twine, but he promised to return with more the next day.
 Auntie G returned early, and she, Mum and Granny took Susan and Linda for a walk. They went through the white painted gate in the back of the garden, along the brook to the fishing village, passing many rickety piers and teepee-like constructions of long poles. In the village many of the inhabitants greeted Granny, Mom and Auntie G.
 They turned right into a cobbled street, passing the smokehouse with its characteristic chimney and turned right once again on the big road. They walked on, past Granny's house and the pottery, past the big memorial stone and all the way out to where the road became hemmed in by water on both sides.
 Out there Granny opened her basket. It contained coffee, mugs and pastry. It was a treat, and they all sat in the grass eating and talking.
Susan went exploring, and found a tiny graveyard almost hidden by the rushes. She went back and asked Granny why people were buried out there.
"It's the pest-cemetery," Granny explained. "Your great-great-grandmother, my maternal grandmother, is buried there as well. Long ago, when the village here was much smaller than today, and the roads worse and the water more often inundated the roads, my grandmother lived here. She was a wise woman, some might have called her a witch. She helped birthing ladies, set broken limbs, cleaned and bandaged wounds, and made herbal teas for minor illnesses. You must remember that a journey to town was long and hard for an ill person, and a visit from the doctor cost a lot of money, which the serfs and fishers here did not have. You can see the castle out there. The baron closed the gates and put out guards when the plague came here. He and his family all survived,. My granny was not so lucky. She and all the other plague victims were buried here. But all this happened long ago."



onsdag den 20. november 2019

Words for Wednesday -- November 20

 Today I have been impatiently waiting for the words, frequently updating my browser. Luckily Elephant's Child's Wednesday is earlier than mine, Already Tuesday before dinner, I had the prompts. I had already written this installment, but of course, I had to see, where the words took us ... and the words are not words, but wonderful photos by Bill Dodds. I used only one of them. The other photo will get an installment of its own.
 Lissa's comment on Grandmothers, and of course Elephant's Child's never failing inspiration had set my writing juices flowing. I continue where I left off with nothing ventured ... 
  There's not much magic in this chapter, only a hint.
"Mom, why don't we visit Grandma and grandad?" Susan asked. It was a long shot, but Susan knew that Mom would like to visit her mother, and they were very near the place where she lived.
"Oh yes," Mom sighed, "why don't we. It is such a long ride down here, and I'm sure she would be happy to see us. It would be a perfect end to this not so nice visit to my home town."

"OK," Dad said. "nobody's expecting us at home before next Monday anyway. Let's raid the baker in town, while you 'phone auntie G and tell her to inform your mother that we're passing by."
"No, no, no!" Linda said, kicking Susan's shin soundly. "I want to go home! I want to be together with my friends, and my Mario-game is out of battery yet again. I think something's the matter with it."
"Now, Linda, don't be silly." Dad said. "Mom should be allowed to see her mother too, now we're so close. And give me that dastard thing. I'll get some new batteries and look at it. I'm not an electrician for nothing, girl. And I bet you'll have fun playing with your cousins once we arrive."
Luckily Auntie G was at home and yes, they could visit. Granny and grandad were at home too, and the gooseberries were ripe. 
Granny and grandad lived on a giant plot in a still rural area not far from the bigger town. They lived in a small, old timber-framed house in the end of the plot nearest the brook. In the other end lived auntie G, Mom's older sister with her three girls, all older that Susan, in a house she had built herself. Auntie G was a strong, independent spirit. She played the violin, and almost any other musical instrument, only not wind instruments. Susan adored her, Linda did not much care for her, but the three girls were fun to play with. They liked to tease and teach their younger cousins. Their idea of fun, was to gather all the children of the small hamlet, drag them around in the gigantic garden in a blanket and throw them into the air using the same blanket and the four oldest children each holding a corner of the blanket. Together they also sailed on the brook in Grandad's boat, made things from straws, harvested apples, carrots, gooseberries and what else needed picking in granny's big garden.  Occasionally someone got wet, and Granny's clothesline was always filled up after such a day. They also played tag in the garden, Susan and Linda both remembered NOT to hold onto the nasty Devil's walking stick growing temptingly on a sharp corner, but one of the other girls were forgetful of the danger and got her hand lacerated by the many sharp thorns.
  Then it was time for gooseberry picking, many of the children from near by went home, Granny handed out bowls. But first she and the youngest of Auntie G's girls caught the rooster inside the hen house. Rasmus, as the rooster was called, was a very angry specimen, he was big and beautiful with big, sharp spurs which he liked to use.
 Susan stood at a secure distance, between the old oak trees down by the brook, and peeped between two of the giants, while Granny picked up an old broom, she kept handy for this purpose. Lena hid behind the door to the chicken coop, and as soon as granny had chased Rasmus the Rooster inside, she slammed the door and latched it. Rasmus' sad crowings could be heard wide and far while they picked all the ripe gooseberries.
  As darkness fell, Linda and the two of the thee cousins sat outside Granny's kitchen, cleaning the gooseberries, while Susan, auntie G and the middle cousin went to Auntie G's house. There Auntie G pulled out a fiddle which she handed to Helen, she strummed a guitar and gave it to Susan, then she grabbed her accordion. She placed herself so that Susan could watch her left hand: "This is A minor," she told Susan, placing her fingers on the relevant keys, "And this is C." She quickly showed Susan the most used chords. "If I play a chord you haven't seen, or do not recognize, just continue with the one you came from, until you grasp the next one. Let's try the Riddle Song." Helen placed the violin under her chin, placed the bow on the strings and counted 1, 2, 3.
The first repetition was awful, Helen forgot to sing and Auntie G shook her head. "No, Susan, that was supposed to be A minor, not E. Let's try again." Slowly Susan learned, and the fifth time around she hit the right chords every time. They played and sung all 8 verses, and applauded themselves on a job well done.
Lena came and told them that dinner was ready. They all gathered in Granny's small living room, and ate fish, gooseberry jam, fresh potatoes, carrots and corn on the cob. The dessert was apple cake, which is not a cake, but apple sauce layered with butter-and-sugar toasted breadcrumbs topped with whipped cream and with small clots of redcurrant jam inside. It tastes much better than it sounds, and all of it got eaten.

mandag den 18. november 2019

Poetry Monday :: Neighbours

 Today is Monday, and Monday means Poetry. Today's theme is Neighbours from Jenny at Procrastinating Donkey.
 Also participating are:  Diane, Mimi, and Merry Mae.


We're living on a corner, so we have many neighbours
Some loud, some not,
some young, some old
Some single and some married,
None boring - very varied.

One loves to labour
on his fences each day
one wields a sabre
like a pirate at bay
And a couple have already hung out their lights
They make all the nigths and my living room bright.
And once in a while, from "Mount Tabor"
Two ladies come visit all neigbours.

It should have been longer, but I ran out of steam. 
Next Monday, Diane says, Windows is the theme.

lørdag den 16. november 2019

Words for Wednesday -- November 13

  I'm still playing catch up, using the words from Wednesday 13th. 
  If you want to see what everybody else have written with these prompts, then go here. Elephant's Child is, as all through November, hosting the words, but they're provided by Margaret and friends. 
  This might not be the best I've ever written. But here it is.  

... Add insult to injury

And/or

Nothing ventured ...


  Nothing ventured, nothing gained could almost be the motto of my life right now, Susan thought as she looked through the car window. The fields of the quiet farmlands were slowly giving way to sprawling industrial complexes and square living blocks of the suburbs of the town. Doll houses for giants was a phrase she and Linda had coined for those dreary living commodes on a past ride. They imagined at night when people were sleeping, the giant children would arrive, pulling out one floor of the blocks like giant drawers and play with furniture and inhabitants. This had to be the reason why so many people often woke up somewhere else, with hurting bodies and not knowing how they arrived there. And also - more innocently - why people could never find car keys, umbrellas, books, glasses and so on.
  But today Susan felt angry. Their stay at Unicorn island had been cut short. Only one day had Susan been able to go to the Farm and join the lessons. Then something had happened in the world and doings of grown-ups, and now they were on their way back to Susan's home town.
  And to add insult to injury, Linda was happy they were going home! She had obviously fallen out with Beth and Wilma, just as dad with their dad. Now she sat on her end of the backseat demonstratively humming happy going home tunes.
  Susan stuffed her fingers in her ears and tried to concentrate on the book in her lap.
  But she was going to show them!
  The Unicorn Farm had a few rooms for boarders, and she had asked for permission to stay in one of these. Now she just had to find a way to get back to Unicorn Farm to use that room. She really needed to. She had so much to tell and to ask. That whole story with the Gargoyle and the werewolves. And the magic bestiary. Thousands of questions bubbled in Susan's brain.


And now I think I'll have to take a small break in my posting. I hope Wednesday's words will bring my writing mojo back.