%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |    Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
   L'aura del campo 'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos' ♣ Federico García Lorca ♣  L'aura del campo. A breeze in the meadow. So it began the last day of Spring, 2005; on the 16th day of the month of Light of the year 162. This is a supplement to my daily journal written to a friend, my muse; notes I do not share. Here I will share what the breeze has whispered to me. PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS! I L  V COMMENTS!On a practical note, in answer to your questions: IN MEMORIUM VerySara  passed away November 12, 2005 Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings. More suggested links:  These pictures rotate.   Kåre  Enga~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
| There comes a glistening to smooth grey stones when rain and stream has whet their inner essence and made them gleam— and to the child —sitting alone— when hugged basks in the glow of feeling special. © Kåre Enga [11.september.2016 Missoula] |
| Sigulda 1. Sun shines in Sigulda on the stooped shoulders of an old woman purse slung over her back, bag dangling. And on the tall youth, oblivious to age, banging on drums, shouting out the day. Silent geraniums turn deaf ears. Eight-hundred and nine years have passed under the same skies. The Age of Liv and the rage of Martin Luther have passed. White lilacs bloom and bike riders change their clothes. White roses open to blue above. I do not wonder where I wander. I absorb the breeze and jot down my thoughts and stop under an oak to look up at a green sign that tells me what street I'm on: ieta Paegles. 2. How long will the tower hold those bells? Not long, not long, not long enough! The butterfly/worm squirms in its cocoon—wiggles a message to the squeamish and infirm: my time has come to leave you. Molde: Up to Skihytta 3. Blue flowers and a brown bench. The path up up up is no longer smooth and black (asphalt). Now the sound of crushing gravel follows upward. I'd say I'm lost... but could you define that. Birdsong and pine beckon. It's quiet 70 years after this hill town and port was destroyed in a cacophony of bombs and fire. I desire neither. A couple stops. They point the way: always up. 4. Whether you zig this-way-or-that at the end you will rest, perchance to die. If you don't cherish this choice better to have never been born. The contract you signed with your first breath was for better or worse, until... It's more binding than any wedding vow. 5. I am soothed by the passing of those whose walking is done. Whatever path I am on goes somewhere. I comntinue to climb between birch, fern and snags. Violets encroach on the gravel. A jogger runs past—no time to smell them. 6. Two men and a dog; birch thins and I'm reminded of what I see in the mirror. 7. A man pees in the woods and the dappled shade plays among the horsetails. |
| 1. Beyond hearing I vibrate to your voices that do not answer. I quiver in the echo held deep within. We were never in harmony, our notes tuned to alien scales, two dischords that never touched even when we met. Pluck now the heartstrings to whatever rhythm that defines the color grey, play the instruments of whatever symphony you choose to light the way. 2. What lisp is loss between the lips that cannot part to receive my spit that lies now spent between our hips when love means loss and loss means we never quit. 3. Random: As I draw myself you pull out your eraser. You transform into all my discarded lovers but refuse to leave. Suffering like cotton candy—the desire of your mouth. At the poet's orgy, we sit on our chairs until our buns are numb and need to be spanked awake. The Eucharist your body, my thirst your lips. We know he has gone; the piano now silences the days. 4. In nightmares I couldn't find you even though you were my skin closer than thoughts or beat of breast or breath. In dreams you flew and spread your sunshine; blinded, I saw you behind my eyelids. With my tears you wrought me rainbows. In the heat you were the glistening of sweat, the hoarfrost on my whiskers in winter. "you were the clothes I never took off". Lay my out washed and shrouded. Beyond the misery of spent flesh, keep whatever memories still persist (that you wish), forget the rest. © Káre Enga [8.september.2016 at Shakespeare & Co.] |
| Thoughts of silk (provisional title) Caught between what was and what will be I reweave these moments from unraveled strands strengthen the web to support my breathing one more day. Silk runs through my fingers patterns forming before closed lids. One does not need eyes to see. the rocks bloom in colors beyond paper walls built 2 centuries after the fall from Grace, from the ship that brought us here. We mash beets. Soak corn. Hollyhocks grow high around the lilacs. Willows shade the beets; poison ivy protect the corn. and the outhouse smells of rotting tomatoes. It will need lime soon. My hands flash between now and then, pluck one errant strand that will not sing. Discordant music pierces the calm. This denial that all that was, all that will be mere reused silk, now warp and weft my hands have woven or will weave. © Kåre Enga [6.september.2016 Missoula] Random blitherings written during Xiong's poetry reading. |
| El Consejo Cuando viene la lluvia / las lágrimas te limpian No hay noche que te venzca / no hay día que te maldigas No vendé tu corazón / no vendé tu futuro Sabés ya la vida dura / sabemos que no sos quejón Sepa que te queremos / sepa que sos cariñoso Y tus días brillen con esplendor © Kåre Enga [8.agosto y 4.septiembre 2016 Cartago y Missoula] Note that this one is rough and NEEDS to be worked on. "No se enferma la soledad—se mata" Mesa de cuatro, tres vivos, yo ya con sueño La pizza se gasta mordida por mordida y trago por trago—la cerveza—yo tomo café. Tres jovenes—yo con canas Música da energía a la noche despierta. Nos redondeamos la mesa. La mesa nos uñe. Saco los anteojos—ya ciego me quedo ya sordo. Fiesta de tres. Aparte me quedo. Mas—no salgo. Las barreras de la humanidad son altas. Son anchas. No se enferma la soledad— me mata. © Kåre Enga [28.julio.2016, Grecia] Mercado de Grecia : sizzle of the fry pan ; sweet coffee ; smooth tile ; the imperfect shape of a handmade tortilla—perfect ; the dance of the cook. ; mastico arroz—bright yellow of yolk ; market chatter ; smell of perfume ; all the colors of my world. ; el curtido en su jarra vacía ; sweet-n-sour of the hour—before noon ; everything for sale— ropa, caldosas —but never our life. The market takes the excess from others and gives it to you. © Kåre Enga [29.julio.2016, Grecia] Los Chorros Dog at my feet, the water falls into pools as the hole in the green above greys over. The silence flutters by on orange or transparent wings. The churn and roar of the river breaks the fragility of this moment into fragments of ennui. Two women bathe in a shallow pool refreshed by ripples. Leaves dapple the day; the water wells up and moves on. Like the hour we have spent. Like time measured by the beat of wings. © Kåre Enga [1.agosto.2016; editado 5.agosto; Los Chorros cerca de Grecia] 80,000 VIEWS |
| Crisp Morns Crows gather in the poplars; the heron glides low over willow. Autumn beckons with leaf fall and crisp manners. I want to doze until Spring awakens me; but, Crows won't stop talking. The breeze whispers and dawn alarm is sounded. © Kåre Enga [31.august.2016 Missoula] 79,996 |
| 1. If you could be here I'd make the stars come out at noon, guided by the light of your face. No need for the sun to show the way. Grey skies numb this day. A breeze tries to clear the cobwebs. Discontent overrules it all. No word from them... no word from you. No one dispels this weight of silence. The city bustles about oblivious, un-caring. It doesn't know you, doesn't know how much I miss you. [blithered in my note book, 28.julio.2016, PZ] 2. O Ancient Face lit by the Southern Sky! Your halo rides high on her clouds. Your visage as stony as this beach. These waves the children of your tides that grind each rock into course black sand. Across this vacuous weep between us, a journey of ebb and neep, the knead of this night conceals stars that whisper to our emptiness. Fill us, Harsh Mistress! At this hour of our daily death before we sleep. © Kåre Enga [22.julio.2016 Montezuma] |
| Enter the void for Nora My first thought: coffee! The dawn had not crept into my window yet because it hadn't had it's coffee. I stood there pouring hot water over my Kanya AA grounds ignoring the overflow cup, staring at—nothing. I went to the window and opened it. Still nothing. I stood there mouth open and mute. No words came forth to describe the absence of sunlight beaming down on my hummingbirds flitting among the cardinal flowers. Where was my trellis; where was the gate to the yard. The silence pierced my thoughts until it was interrupted by a dark wetness reaching my toes. I boiled more water; ground up more beans; refused to turn around. I focused on the smooth Formica counter, the woodsy smell of African beans, listen to the clock tick away the solidness of my sanity. It was 8:04. I closed my eyes. Opened them long enough to walk my coffee to my favorite chair, sank down into its warmth and closed my eyes once more. I slowly guiding the liquid of life to my lips. And nearly spilled it when Cutesy jumped into my lap. I sipped, breathing in and out to her purr. The cat curled up acting as if everything was normal. All was right with her world. I pressed my hips deep into the blue velvet. I sat there until I could count every dot flashing behind my eyelids. Opened them and peered at the clock. 9:15. I heard a rustling at my door. My perky neighbor who lived in a closet across the hall, drapes always closed, smiled and greeted me. —It's supposed to be too nice a day to be stuck inside. What are your plans? I was dumbstruck. —I need another coffee... too early to think, I mumbled. —Oh... no problem, you sit down and I'll make you one. You look like you didn't get any sleep. You alright, Hon? —Nooo... I kept dreaming of what to say to Larry... when... if... ... I haven't finished my script as I promised. —Well. You have all afternoon and tonight to work on it! Fresh air will do you some good. Let's go to the park. The exterminators are coming tomorrow and I see thy have the black plastic up on your side of the building already. ... You okay? —I forgot.. I forgot they were coming... —Well, put on some clothes and let's go. Here, drink this first. I put sugar in it. Looks like you need a boost. I took one look at the black window and hurried to get dressed. I grabbed my sunhat and glasses ready for a sunny Summer day. We met in the hall and my neighbor bounced while I staggered down the stairs to open the door. I stepped into the void without looking. I could hear my friends voice. —Alright... okay... what were you supposed to write about for Larry... ... —Today, I sighed. It won't exist until I do. © Kåre Enga [30.August.2016 Missoula Public Library] In response to a prompt about the "void" and Nora's writing about the Creator being created by her Creation. 79,985 |
 Log in to Leave Feedback |
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
![Merit Badge in Reviewing
[Click For More Info]
For your support and suggestions on my haiku "Lone Poinsettia" which took second place in the contest and will be published. Thanks for helping make it a winning poem!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Reviewing-2180.gif)
![Merit Badge in Nano Winner
[Click For More Info]
CONGRATULATIONS on your achievement! *^*Bigsmile*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Nano_Winner-2180.gif)
![Merit Badge in Funny
[Click For More Info]](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Funny-200.gif)
![Merit Badge in Friendship
[Click For More Info]
Thanks for being my friend.
Hugz!
grannym](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Friendship-650.gif)
![Merit Badge in Appreciation
[Click For More Info]
For brightening my day with your delightful offerings ~ Thank you so much! *^*Heart*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Appreciation-1985.gif)
). That said, use what the Muse gifts.