Andrea Heiberg
I was so lucky to reach an American editor who edited my stories and she also had me introduced to Poetic Asides. There I met Andrea Porter from the UK who helped me get published. Last year Salt Publishing created “Next Stop: Sejer Island,” which is a collection of my short stories.
So from being a completely unknown Danish writer who writes in English, I become the Andrea Heiberg, the second Danish author who writes this kind of fiction directly in English – Karen Blixen being the first.
Here, on Poetic Bloomings, I enjoy poetry and the pulse of worldwide life.
Here you can read my short story “A Kingdom for a Kalashnikov”: http://www.belletrista.com/2011/Issue14/features_4.php
Here you can read a review: http://www.belletrista.com/2012/Issue15/reviews_17.php
Here you can see the opening of my short story “Where There is Fish, There is Hope” (scroll down): http://www.saltpublishing.com/books/smf/9781844718702.htm
Here you can read about me: http://www.saltpublishing.com/writers/profile.php?recordID=213744
© All postings and intellectual materials on this page are property of Andrea Heiberg.
February 17th, 2012 at 3:35 AM
Prompt 41
FOR THE LITTLE OLD YOU
I say
the truth is that
I’m twenty one,
and add,
honestly.
Though in my fifties I
sense this childish
grin
on my face
when asked,
how old I am.
Old enough to be your mom?
Grandma?
Pa?
Na, I’m not old enough for anything
but
to tell you
that I love you.
And when you tell me
that
you love me, too,
I wish
that I could live for ever
and I tell you
that,
I’m twenty one,
always.
February 17th, 2012 at 3:41 AM
Prompt 42
WHEN MOM ROCKS
No one lives in glasshouses.
No, granddad doesn’t.
Well, when I say he doesn’t,
he doesn’t.
What has stones got to do with it?
Oh, so they said you shouldn’t throw stones?
Oh, the saying with the glasshouse?
That’s a great one.
Yeah, great,
only it says rocks,
not stones.
Well, when I say it says rocks,
it does.
No, granddad doesn’t throw rocks and
he grows tomatoes
in his glasshouse.
Yeah, great,
but not stones.
You’ve got it now.
February 26th, 2012 at 4:53 AM
Prompt 43
O MAGNITUDE
The days never end but
for the longing of
the damping forest
morning,
the on shore wondering,
the red-necked grebe
on its way
with her two heavy babies on her back,
resting.
No, the days never end.
March 3rd, 2012 at 9:51 PM
Prompt 44
DOING EUROPE
When you saw
Rembrandt,
chewed the old
Gouda,
bought a
Genever for
Granddad,
lined up the stairs
for
Anne Frank,
picked a yellow
water bike and
pedalled through the canals
and
learnt how small
you are
among ocean going ships in
the industrial harbour,
that’s when
you wonder
how a gondolas
feels like
and
that’s when you reach out for your bag
to put a tick next to
Amsterdam,
Venice it is tomorrow.
March 8th, 2012 at 7:52 AM
Prompt 45
WHEN MOMS HEAR FOOTSTEPS BEHIND THEM IN DARK PLACES
This is not about breast feeding,
no,
this about another proud mother
who knocked down somebody
on a road,
no,
a trail
a curling, narrow,
dark
trail
in a park
in order to come home
safe and sound
for her little baby.
Better safe than sorry
she said
when a young man
claimed he’d been
attacked
by
a monster.
March 23rd, 2012 at 5:05 PM
Prompt 46
TO BE REMINDED
Laurels grow in gardens even
here with me
there is this little tree
shielding
so I can see
that anything is possible.
March 30th, 2012 at 10:49 AM
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November 9th, 2012 at 1:51 PM
Friday night silence
gives me freedom from existence
the stove hisses
because of the partly wet pieces
of wood.
The candle is almost burned down
the light flickers and is gone.
Friday night silence
enjoying the distant shine from the moon.
(Amazing spot yo’all have here…)