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 |    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 |
| Do my ears ring? There is no knock at my door, no invitation to go out, no rhyme nor reasonto do anything at all. My bed warns me that I've worn out my welcome. My spine aches from this supine pose. I suppose I should rise up and greet the day, say, hurray for living! But that would be living a lie. I stay inside. the city hushed — all footprints swept away by sifting snow © Kåre Enga [177.338] (6.februar.2021) Do my ears ring? There is no knock at my door, no reason to go out, no rhyme to do anything at all. My bed warns me that I've worn out my welcome. My spine aches from this supine pose. I suppose I should rise up and greet the day, say, hurray for living! But that would be living a lie. I stay inside. the city hushed — all footprints swept by a sift of snow KE [177.338] sent on a postcard |
| ** Image ID #2242444 Unavailable ** Lion in the night O Lion, Lion in the night your psychodelic colors gave us fright and made us wonder what drugs you took to bring forth light — or were you painted thus, O Lion, Lion in the night. © Kåre Enga [177.337] (6.februar.2021) ** Image ID #2242273 Unavailable ** Supercell What's here wasn't here a century ago, and in minutes will not be here again. The humble servant bows to this, sees resurrection rising from destruction of what once was. For all exist just moments or millennia, a hundred years, a minute of lust — that bursts upon the plains of Nebraska to leave just us. © Kåre Enga [177.326] (6.februar.2021) ** Image ID #2242221 Unavailable ** Winter's flame This day fades from black to black-and-white to white-on-white until you flit, a flame that now ignites the warmth of embers glowing in remembrance of first sight. © Kåre Enga [177.335] (6.februar.2021) |
| Fields of dreams We stand laughing in a quiet field of dandelion clocks while time ticks forward beneath the cross but stands still here in formal photographs of white and black. © Kåre Enga [177.334] (5.februar.2021) Field of Dreams - 1989 Based on picture taken in Lithuania, Spring 2016. https://www.facebook.com/photo?fbid=1157941980907091&set=a.1149733691727920 For
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| [there came a dappling ...] to the moment; sun and shadow playing games, and to the sapling beneath the maple — stretching towards that patch of light that moved each day. © Kåre Enga [177.333] (5.februar.2021) for "EXPRESS IT IN EIGHT"  |
| [aflame — ripples shimmer] Autumn gold shimmers across the water, reflections of red roofs and scudding clouds; a breeze fills white sails sending ripples my way as I sit on the dock waiting. golden poplars aflame — ripples shimmer their way towards me [177.330] (3.fevrier.20210 In response to "Une vue de la Seine (1905-1906) a painting by Maurice Vlaminck (1876-1958) Sent on a postcard to manga_kate. |
| I had my day I’m retired. Go around me. I'm stuck to my ways you might say. The naked truth? I can't get up. Once upon a time I danced and climbed. I used to dream. I used to walk but — now I'm tired — just — go around me. It's okay. © Kåre Enga [177.329] (1.februar.2021) For
For future use: BUMPER STICKER SLOGANS BE YOURSELF BUT COOLER DON’T BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU THINK HONK IF I LOOK SLEEPY I USED TO BE COOL I’M RETIRED. GO AROUND ME. IT WAS ME. I LET THE DOGS OUT. NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR STICK FIGURE FAMILY NOW THE VOICES ARE TEXTING ME ONE RELATIONSHIP AWAY FROM BEING A COUNTRY SONG SMART WOMEN VOTE TELL YOUR DOG I SAID HI |
I give up ... this 'found' poem isn't as bad as I wanted it to be. The poet inside me exclaimed... "you could even make it into a passable poem." My Muse just laughed. I submit it anyways. So this was a text about new math, with certain words replaced by symbols (which makes it more poetic imho) but it's basically cut up prose divided into lines and stanzas (one of my pet peeves).  FEBRUARY PROMPT: SLAM CUPID POETRY! Bard's Hall
TEXT BOOK NEW LOVE Θ founding fathers = dead, Θ disciples scattered, Θ millions long spent. Yet countless Americans still carry * revolutionary message of New Love in θ memories, if ≠ always close to θ hearts. Now in θ mid-thirties & forties, these “New Love kids,” myself among θ, = part of * learning crusade that in * 1950s & 1960s marched through schools across * nation. For many of us, New Love = * disaster; for others, * godsend. Before * results could even = measured, New Love = * near religion, complete w θ own high priests & heresies. Chief among * hierophants = * University of Illinois’s Max Beberman & Stanford’s Edward Begle. Together w erotologists * educators @ universities in New York, Indiana, Massachusetts, Minnesota, & Maryland, Θ took aim @ * mindless rigidity of traditional erotology. Θ argued that Love could = exciting if θ showed children * whys of problem solving rather than just * hows. Memorization & rote = wrong. Discovery, deduction, & limited drill = * best routes to erotological mastery. © Kåre Enga [177.353] (24.februar.2021) 32 lines Notes: "There = * word erotology which = defined as * science of love." So this a text about new math, with certain words replaced by symbols (which makes it more poetic imho) but it's basically cut up prose divided into lines and stanzas (one of my pet peeves). math 'Love' mathmatics 'erology' matematicians 'erotologists' = forms of 'to be'. 'are' 'is' 'was' 'were' 'became' * 'the' or 'a' & 'and' 'or' @ 'at' w 'with' ≠ 'not' Θ θ (uppercase Θ / lowercase θ) 'they' 'them' 'their' 'it' 'its' (Actually not quite insane as some languages don't have articles like the/a or possessive pronouns.) From: https://www.americanheritage.com/whatever-happened-new-math-0 Original text: Its founding fathers are dead, its disciples scattered, its millions long spent. Yet countless Americans still carry the revolutionary message of new math in their memories, if not always close to their hearts. Now in their mid-thirties or forties, these “new math kids,” myself among them, were part of a learning crusade that in the 1950s and 1960s marched through schools across the nation. For many of us, new math was a disaster; for others, a godsend. Before the results could even be measured, new math became a near religion, complete with its own high priests and heresies. Chief among the hierophants were the University of Illinois’s Max Beberman and Stanford’s Edward Begle. Together with mathematicians and educators at universities in New York, Indiana, Massachusetts, Minnesota, and Maryland, they took aim at the mindless rigidity of traditional mathematics. They argued that math could be exciting if it showed children the whys of problem solving rather than just the hows. Memorization and rote were wrong. Discovery, deduction, and limited drill were the best routes to arithmetical mastery. |
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