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 |   Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
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Enga mellom Fjella  Sentinel Marked as if you own me I bow before the Bitterroots and just like you my rocky soil, my withered grass lays prey to the empty sky. © Kåre Enga 2007 "Sentinel"   Reader's Choice of Poems: "Sentinel" "In Lagada, la vita" "Waterlily" "Speak soft my name" "Willowsong" Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" :"Death of Jeannie New Moon" "Winter: 18 Mas'il (December 29)" "In a garden of roses, baby" "A Thanksgiving Dinner poem and the WDC Zoo" "Guitarman, a gift for Gary. Aaron Marable's art." FACES     PLACES            Kåre  Enga~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
| Liam wrote on the board for the young'ns. Call me Mister Liam or just Auld Liam. One boy laughed. "Why?" "Because I'm auld." One girl snickered. "You're old not auld." "Aye, 'tis true... y'r not from these parts, are ye?" |
| He stood out. A broad rugby player in a glittering gown usually does. Brad didn't care. He'd live. His sister had terminal cancer and he wore this for her. Pink ribbons, mustache and bows had earned him the acclaim, "outstanding". |
| She shone like Venus, unoccluded, undiminished. Mars was jealous as she always Walked-in-Beauty. She veiled herself in kindness, kept her heart pure yet open. We called her by her title, Her Radiance Aura. Glowering Mars had met his match. |
| Watching bees — just be — pleased me. Finding my lost keys pleased me more. Sparrows mating in the trees reminded me that I'm alone today. I speculate "why them, why not me". Better to bat flies — than cuss — so, just exercise. |
| 23:23... The poplar tree sings a lullaby with the flutter of its yellow leaves. Too dry to sing in the key of green. Nighttime, almost midnight, a popular hour to party. Me? I harmonize with the poplar, hope to sleep. |
| He'd left Brooklyn behind years ago. Now Kipp rode a horse to work and told everyone he was an Orthodox Cowboy. Folks weren't sure whether he was joking; but, his concealed weapon didn't suffer fools and his painted pony kicked. |
| "It's like lobbing grenades. Throw in the general direction and duck back down in the trench. Accuracy matters less than an ill-timed surprise." We were talking trash. At least that's what I remember from September before the Towers came down. |
| Canceled. I sat in the corner contemplating my options. Quitting never entered my mind but the way forward was blocked by my soon-to-be-missing brother. Nothing quite like canceling the canceler. I smiled. Ah, this corner was so inspiring and cozy. |
| Smile and think kind thoughts. Show me your hand; move it back and forth. Let soft ripples of air seek to enter the thoughts of others. The soothing caress will calm their nerves. Never underestimate the power of a wave. |
| It had turned everything black. Stickier than tar it clung to their past, present and future. Thicker than water it defined their ingrown insanity. The spilled blood of generations had spoiled the land. Kindness could not grow there. Love died. |
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