Still Waters

Excerpt

Tyne fought back a wave of anger. “Thank you,” she said stiffly.
Her mother’s voice followed her up the stairs. “He said he’d call back
after supper.’’
In her bedroom, Tyne threw off her damp clothes, grabbed a light
dressing gown and headed for the bathroom. That boy, she muttered
under her breath. That Cresswell boy. Her mother was beginning to
sound just like her dad. At twenty-four Morley was hardly a boy.
That boy, indeed.
She bent to turn on the bathtub faucet, and jumped when her
mother suddenly appeared in the doorway. A small woman, Emily
had mousy blonde hair pulled back severely into a bun at the nape of
her neck. Tyne often thought that her mother must have been pretty
as a young woman, but the years had taken their toll. Deep frown lines
creased her forehead, but no soft laugh lines appeared around her
mouth and eyes as there should have been in a fifty-year-old woman.
“If you persist in seeing this boy, Tyne,” Emily said, “you know
what it will lead to, don’t you?”
Tyne straightened her back. “Yes, Mom, it already has. Morley and
I are planning to marry.”
As soon as she said the words she wished she could take them
back. She had not meant to drop such a bombshell in this way, especially
to her timid, anxious mother.
Emily’s hand flew to her mouth, too late to hide the trembling of
her lips.
When she spoke Tyne could barely hear her over the running bath water.
“Oh, Tyne, how could you bring disgrace to our family like this?”
“Disgrace? Disgrace? Is that your word, or Dad’s?”
Emily’s face tightened. “Be careful, Tyne.”
“I only mean … Mom, I can’t believe you would think that by marrying
a good Christian man like Morley I’ll bring disgrace on the
family.”
“He’s not our kind of Christian, Tyne. You haven’t been raised that way.”
“What way? Are we so special? Why should this be an issue between
us? Morley is a good man and a fine Christian. There is no
issue.”
Emily’s voice rose. “I won’t stand here and listen to this. You’re not
my daughter anymore. You’ve changed. That boy has changed you
already.”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763068

He Rode Tall

Excerpt

Maybe it was more fun trying to guess. All they knew was
they were blessed to have him. From the time he locked up his
one room classroom and left town at the start of summer until he
returned a day or so before the start of the next school year, there
always was plenty of speculation on where he went every summer
and whether or not this very strange and very private man
would return.
Joel had developed his own theory about why no one asked Mr.
Johansson why he was doing what he was doing when he could
obviously be employed in some more prestigious task. The way
Joel had it figured, the teacher was on the run. On the run from
who knows what. Maybe himself. Maybe the law. Maybe his
family. And people in the community didn’t ask for fear of chasing
away the man that had become recognized as the best teacher
this part of the country ever had. What they didn’t know was that
Mr. Johansson was actually Dr. Johansson, PhD, and yes, he was
on the run. On the run from an east coast college and his appetite
for eighteen-year-old freshmen girls.
Mr. Johansson had provided a great start for young Joel. Right
from the tenth grade, when the teacher first arrived in Willow
Springs, he had given Joel some very special attention. Not one to
comment on anything other than those of scientific or mathematical
significance, the teacher did mention to Joel toward the end of
his final year in high school that he had been an excellent student
and would do very well in university. When Joel indicated that
university probably wasn’t in the cards for him, with the cost of it
being what it was, Mr. Johansson made a point of phoning the
ranch and asking to meet his parents. Both his mother and father
were amazed when Mr. Johansson visited their home and suggested,
very strongly, that it would be a crime if Joel did not go to
university. The money issue raised its head and the meeting took
a bad turn when the teacher suggested to Joel’s dad that if he
couldn’t afford to send Joel to university then he would most likely
be able to get some help from the government or some kind of a
special foundation for talented, underprivileged children.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0980897955

Nikos Engonopoulos – Poems

II
(About Winds and Waters)
eternal memory to the master, the Kindest Ottoman
Ali Hantzar, a servant of the Empire, the great world
Benefactor, helped by the Italian Guglielmo Tzitzi.
This was also the opinion of Madam Artemis, whose
Confirmation consoles the wandering souls and greatly
contributes to the efforts of the sixteenth-century French
poets who tried to create the New School named
the Pleiades. Besides none of us forgets that the monk
Schwartz discovered gunpowder. Thus, for the rest …

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763734

Swamped

Excerpt

“What do you have for me?” he asked as soon as Richard answered the phone.

“Hi, Eteo. What do you mean? I haven’t heard anything since we talked earlier today”

“That’s what I was afraid of, Richard. Think about it. They would have been on the phone day or night if they had any news. It tells me they lost the hole, that’s what it tells me.”

Richard was silent for a few seconds. Finally, he reacted, almost shouting.

“You always think negative, Eteo. Look, as soon as I have something, I’ll call you.”

“I talked to the middleman, Richard,” Eteo replied. “He confirmed it. They lost the hole.”

“Why didn’t the assholes answer my calls then?”

With that, Richard put the phone down, leaving Eteo with a broad smile on his face. At least he wouldn’t hear anything more from him for a while.

Just as he was getting ready to go out to meet Mario for lunch, Helena rang to say Frances was there again to see him. She came in, closed the door, and without any words, embraced Eteo, and put her lips to his. After a long, sensual kiss, she handed her card to Eteo, said, “Later today. Don’t say no,” turned, and left. Eteo looked at the card. She had added her home address in purple ink. She lived in an apartment block on West Georgia just south of the Bayshore Inn Hotel.

Eteo went for lunch with Mario, and as soon as they finished, around two thirty, Eteo rang Frances’s doorbell. The door was unlocked at once, and as soon as he exited the elevator, he saw her standing by her open door. Below her short blonde hair and blue eyes, her plush breasts and delicate body trembled in a light robe that felt very soft to Eteo’s hands. She quickly made it clear there was an erotic fire in her body that wanted nothing else but Eteo inside it. And he did indeed let himself be guided by the sexual hunger of the young blonde woman with her roots somewhere in Wales. She was still a true Brit but now with extra North American zest and bodily exuberance.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08WP3LMPX

Water in the Wilderness

Excerpt

As the others tried to hide their smiles, Morley bit his lip to hold back the laughter. “No, we have to wait for Auntie Tyne.”
“Hymmph,” Bobby mumbled as he stopped chewing, his little cheeks puffed out like a squirrel.
This time no one could disguise their amusement.
The weekend passed too quickly, the late summer days perfect for long walks around the farm and picnicking at Emblem Lake. On Sunday morning Tyne went alone to the Catholic Church while Morley took their guests and the children to his church on the outskirts of Emblem. The night before, as she helped the young ones prepare for bed, Tyne had asked Rachael if her family attended Sunday morning service.
“Nope,” Rachael said briefly as she pulled her pajamas on.
“Then would you like to go to church with Uncle Morley and the Halls tomorrow?”
Rachael shrugged as if it didn’t make any difference to her one way or another. But Bobby jumped up and down and demanded to know where they were going and if they could get ice cream like they had at the lake that afternoon.
Tyne recruited Morley to explain it to the children, and left him sitting on Bobby’s little cot in the room the boy shared with his sister, in serious conversation with the two of them. As she returned to the porch to rejoin their guests, she felt sad that these revelations had to come from a virtual stranger rather than from the children’s own parents. But, at the same time, she felt thankful that she and Morley had the privilege of sharing these things with them even for this short time.
On Sunday afternoon the children were playing outside, and the men had gone to have a last walk around the farm before Moe and Ken had to leave for home. Tyne sat with her friend on the porch, looking out at the cosmos and snapdragons growing in profusion in the shade of a large maple in the front yard.
“It’s been wonderful, Tyne,” Moe said, “I hate to leave. And it’s been good for Ken to get away from the city. He takes work far too seriously and the bosses take advantage of him.”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676319X

Fragment for Yorick

Must Continue


Barefoot I walk up the ivory tower.
The ebony steps caress my soles;
and what awaits you up there?
A mess left by the previous occupant.
Paper basket full of crumpled manuscripts.
Not to be smooth over them, but must continue
what has been interrupted unexpectedly.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763645

The Circle

Excerpt

WASHINGTON D.C. IS CLOUDY and cold on this September morning.
Despite still feeling tired, Matthew gets up at 6 a.m., his usual time. The only
days he allows himself to sleep in are the rare days when he is at home, in bed
with Emily. Those days are special to him, as he can linger in bed and, if he is
lucky, have a morning session of sex with his wife. But those days are so rare;
at times he wonders why she has been with him all this time, in a life so
deprived of sexual satisfaction, since he hardly gives her any pleasure with his
quickies, as they call their lovemaking sessions. And he doesn’t count the true
love the romantic books of poetry discuss in their verses, because Matthew is
a true believer that such love doesn’t exist, that a man never loves a woman
that way, unless he’s a dreamer or having hallucinations. He walks to the
bathroom sink and washes his face, shaves, and brushes his teeth. He puts on
his usual suit for the office, clothes that he has carried in the same suitcase for
so many years. Then he goes down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast before
heading to work.He orders ham and eggs with hash browns, toast, and coffee.
This is the all-American breakfast which he is a strong believer in having
every day, even when at home.
“Never go out without a good breakfast in your stomach,” his father always
said, and Matthew Roberts never forgets that.
The server brings his food a few minutes later, as he enjoys his coffee while
reading the newspaper headlines.
Matthew has traveled between Los Angeles and Washington for thirty years,
all this time with the same government agency. Jennifer wasn’t even born when
he started this job. As a young computer analyst, he had many job opportunities.
However, he got lucky and this department was in a recruiting mode back in
those days. Now, after all this time, he looks back, and feels satisfied with the path
he has taken and where it has led him. After all, he is second in command. A few
more years and he can see himself retiring at last, with a good severance pay and
good pension. Then he will spend more time with Emily, whom he misses so
much, and with his daughter, who has been raised almost alone by her mother.
Then he will visit his father in Arkansas, who has been alone for such a long time

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

Excerpt

It might have been dropped into the harbour
directly from the China Seas. Ken explored the floating palace and then
stood on the railing leaning over the side, his eyes growing wider as they
passed under the Lions Gate Bridge and chugged into the open waters
of Georgia Strait. The sheer immensity of the snow-capped mountains,
forested islands and vast ocean staggered him. Gulls swooped by, eagles
soared overhead, seals and sea lions dived into the water.
After docking in Nanaimo, Ken drove north on a narrow gravel road,
badly rutted and peppered with potholes. The TR2, with its worn shocks,
rattled up the road that lay at the bottom of a canyon, its sides covered
in giant firs. When he arrived at Nile Creek and found the little cottage
he had been directed to, he knocked on the door and handed his letter of
introduction to the elderly couple who greeted him.
“We’ve heard a lot about you,” they said. “Monsieur Desjardines wrote
to us a number of times; telling us about you, and the wonderful times he
had with you in Portugal, and about how you want to be a Canadian.”
They took Ken out to the mouth of the creek where the water was so
thick with salmon it presented a solid wall.
The next morning they launched a rowboat and rowed out to the kelp
beds, that lay several hundred yards from shore. After tying up to the
outer rim of the semi-translucent mass, they cast their lures along the
edge of the kelp bed. The moment the lure hit the water a fish struck.
Then, miraculously the fish leapt into the air, dancing on the water. Listening
to the old man’s shouted instructions, Ken learned how to handle
Pacific salmon. They pulled in one fish after another, each cast of the line
producing another salmon. When the big box in the bottom of the boat
was almost filled they tossed them back, keeping two for their supper.
Ken spent the rest of the week fishing, and drawing fish – particularly
the cutthroat trout that fascinated him even more than the salmon.
His next trip was to the wild country near Kamloops. As he drew close
to Merritt the countryside grew arid with rugged rolling hills and tall
ponderosa pines, which gradually gave way to a vast grassland covered
with scrub.
He drove up the Nicola Valley, drinking in the smell of sage and basking
in the golden autumn sun. Bees buzzed lazily, half asleep in the golden
fields. Eventually he found the gravel road he was looking for that
climbed up and up into the mountains. He drove through the Stump
Lake Ranch and past the sign that said, “Peter Hope Fishing Camp”. He
drove on through mud puddles so deep that the water seeped through
the floorboards. When he could drive no farther, he parked and walked
across a small creaking bridge to an island with a tiny log cabin wearing
fresh golden logs on one side, and old weathered logs on the other.
Ken knocked on the door.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073573

Life is a Poem

HOSPITAL
I have to carry nitroglycerin with me
like a Native American carries a rabbit
leg.
My roommate is measuring his heart
rate.
The cleaning lady wanted to be a doctor,
but has stuck somewhere.
It’s snowing like it did when I was a
child.
I’m right in the middle of a conflict.
I love flowers on the windowsill.
My roommate is measuring his heart
rate again.
I’m waiting for the New Year’s Eve
2033.
I’m listening to a melody
About apple tree flowers
and the refrain – ref …

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C7KT7ZFV

Εγώ είμαι ο τόπος σου … “ίσως να μην είμαι κανείς αλλά μπορώ να γίνω αυτό που θέλεις” Γιώργος Σεφέρης