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Rated: 18+ · Book · Personal · #982524
Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation.
*Smile*          *Bigsmile*          *Yawn*

L'aura del campo

'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos'
♣ Federico García Lorca ♣

Higgins Street Bridge, April 25th  2009, Missoula, Montana

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.


On a practical note, in answer to your questions:

Gifts from NOVAcatmando kiyasama alfred booth, wanbli ska ransomme Iowegian Skye

Merit Badge in Reviewing
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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! Merit Badge in Nano Winner
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CONGRATULATIONS on your achievement! *^*Bigsmile*^* Merit Badge in Reviewing
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For help finding a title for my first chapbook.  We're not there yet, but your ideas are always interesting.
Merit Badge in Funny
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Merit Badge in Friendship
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Thanks for being my friend.


grannym Merit Badge in Appreciation
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For brightening my day with your delightful offerings ~ Thank you so much! *^*Heart*^*



passed away November 12, 2005

Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings.
More suggested links:

Dogwood in bloom
These pictures rotate.
 Kåre *Leaf5* Enga
~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go.
~ Elizabeth Bishop,
The Fish
Previous ... -1- 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 ... Next
November 28, 2019 at 12:33pm
November 28, 2019 at 12:33pm
The flag waves gently with the breeze. Earlier it hung limp.

This valley epitomizes the worse of both worlds. Hell Gate winds that howl from the east bring cold or snow or no-good-news. But at least they clear out the inversion that settles in when there's no wind. These mountains hold us in their ancient wrinkled hands and won't let go.

Cold to bitter-cold in December. Choked with smoke most every August.

It's November and the grey is settling in for its winter nap.

We've been fortunate to have some bright clear days this autumn. Fortunate that the early September frost and snow and the bitter cold in October didn't claim us. Fortunate that football season has been extended one more weekend.

This town dies once its students leave. Soon. The snowbirds fly south shortly after the students. It's the yearly migration of wealth and good looks. By mid-December only we who are ghosts of ghosts remain.

The lumpy mountains don't mind. The bears are asleep. The elk would prefer us to leave... permanently.

A few of us gathered last night on the eve of Thanksgiving. Not everyone has family to attend to...

We are fortunate to still be here.

November 14, 2019 at 3:52pm
November 14, 2019 at 3:52pm
I wrote two flash fictions. "From Norway with Love 12nov2019 (294w) and "Night Heron Shift Change 13.11.19 [300w].

Angus The Red Nosed Gargoyle has been kind to review both but I told him:

"Thank-you for your kind review. I'll need to add, now that the daily contest is past, that it's based on the account of a friend who knows lots about birds. It's a highly fictionalized account of a true event.

I do have a degree in biology (flowers not birds) ... which helps ... and I spend lots of time observing people and places when I travel which also helps. As a poet I try to include the senses.

One problem... I don't seem to know quite how to write flash fiction. This is more of a vignette than true flash. There isn't much of a hook and action narrative isn't my forté. But it gets me writing. *Smile*"

So... I need help writing flash fiction!

In other good news:

I neglected my journal for 3 weeks! But, I'm now back to daily musings and scribbles. I'm on page 5,072.

I have put most of my postcards I sent on-line at facebook (cropped, addresses not showing, to... first name only). I'm slowly transcribing them here.

I had a daydream about becoming so spread out that folks could see right through me. Need to pursue this.

There isn't enough time left for me to ever catch up, so I just need to focus on doing something every day.

November 9, 2019 at 9:31pm
November 9, 2019 at 9:31pm
Parrots in Amsterdam or was it Istanbul? Tulips all the same... and pink daffodils. Purple cherry blossoms in Taipei and cosmos in Zhunan. The flame-of-the-forest vermilion above the unrelenting green in San José in winter...

...where you met one boyfriend but didn't abandon the others.

Too much beauty to embrace in one short hour. How did one day turn into a week among the gardens of the Balkans, the marigolds of autumn gracing old stones in plots where bones long ago returned to soil.

The Living and the Dead.

You move between both worlds where sunlight urges you to make haste and nighttime begs you to rest. And what to make of the gossamer petals of poppies?

How you migrate from one flower to the next.

© Kåre Enga [176.xxx] (9.november.2019)
November 7, 2019 at 8:20pm
November 7, 2019 at 8:20pm
The limp flag caressed his thin hair as he ambled along his way down the sidewalk. He didn't mind. His father had been a veteran. Came back injured. But alive. No one in his family wanted to see another war. No one exalted flag draped bodies anymore.

The sun warmed his bald spot and invited him to keep walking, encouraged every plodding step. He crossed the intersections carefully. He no longer had the legs to jump out of the way of the impatient. He practiced patience, a virtue he had often heard about but had never met as a youth.

When he passed the Peace Center a stray thought entered his mind. "Peace is more than an end to War." He had spent years working on that, had friends among almost every marginalized population he had ever met. And having traveled he had met most
any human imaginable.

"We are One," he whispered. It was not a radical idea but walls were listening and the enemies of peace were everywhere. Why did people lie about each other? Why was it necessary to have demons to fight? Couldn't everyone just get along? No, Rodney King, we can't. But he wasn't giving up.

He knew his days were numbered. He knew the owls were whispering his name to the winds. But he wanted to see some peace before he gave in. Not until his last hair left his head would he ever give in.

July 8, 2019 at 6:37pm
July 8, 2019 at 6:37pm

A Clerihew is a comic verse consisting of two couplets and a specific rhyming scheme, aabb invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley (1875-1956) at the age of 16. The poem is about/deals with a person/character within the first rhyme. In most cases, the first line names a person, and the second line ends with something that rhymes with the name of the person.

Hail birthday girl Joyce
the gentleman's choice
who wait for her sighting
with each bolt of lightning

© Kåre Enga (8.july.2019) [176.137]

Will Donald Trump's hair
light the New World's Fair
or will his torch flame
Good America's name

© Kåre Enga {8.july.2019) [176.138]

Can we bow to Megan Rapinoe
who by now we all must surely know
bows to no one who can't play at all
yet plays alone with smallish balls

© Kåre Enga {8.july.2019) [176.139]

And here's to dear Melania
who deals with egomania
by hiding out where Don can't find
the inner reaches of his mind

© Kåre Enga {8.july.2019) [176.140]

When I remember Trump
will I think of every chump
or will I recognize
it was all about his size

© Kåre Enga {8.july.2019) [176.141]

Allison Goodnight
tattoos at midnight
on bulging brawn
the promise of dawn

© Kåre Enga {8.july.2019) [176.142]

July 7, 2019 at 10:44pm
July 7, 2019 at 10:44pm
Stolen from Joy and her "The Windmills of Your Mind

"Windmills of the Mind" is the stolen prompt. In part:

Keys that jingle in your pocket
Words that jangle in your head
Why did summer go so quickly?
Was it something that you said?
Lovers walk along a shore
And leave their footprints in the sand
Was the sound of distant drumming
Just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway
Or the fragment of a song
Half-remembered names and faces
But to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over
Were you suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the color of her hair?

Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever-spinning reel
As the images unwind
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind”

The basic rhythm is 8/7/8/7 with a rhyme scheme of xaxa. To my ear, the first line's meter is is: --/---/- with the second --/---/; or basically --/---/---/---/.

My derived poem:

It's for myself I weep

         for Kevin

When I knew that it was over
was I suddenly aware
that the autumn leaves were fading
like the color of your hair?

Did I realize that nightmares
would replace my fondest dreams?
Was it all just some illusion
in the shadow of moonbeams?

And now that I've awakened
after years of restless sleep,
in the quiet of the morning
is it for myself I weep?

And does it really matter
you were once my closest friend,
that once you pledged your love to me?
For that shall never end!

Though memories have faded
and now darkness snuffs the light,
in the heart of who I've since become
you shine there young and bright

© Kåre Enga (7.juli.2019) [176.136]

July 3, 2019 at 8:45pm
July 3, 2019 at 8:45pm
A reminder, I won't be here in this blog much. I'm focusing on my other blogs and using my new blog "Porthole as a place to find them all. I do hope my old friends will follow me at my new place. It will be lonely without you.
July 2, 2019 at 3:53pm
July 2, 2019 at 3:53pm
I have a new blog. This one is getting full and I'm hoping to use it once a week.

My newbie (still no views!):

Porthole  (18+)
A terminal for all blogs coming in or going out. A view into my life.
#1311011 by Kåre Enga, P.O. 22, Blogville

July 1, 2019 at 12:34pm
July 1, 2019 at 12:34pm
Canada Day

I grew up along the border. Canada was always considered a "nice place" to visit. Our side wasn't quite as nice. *Laugh*

Oh well... that was a lifetime ago. I live "near" the border now... like... Montana borders British Columbia, Alberta and Saskatchewan. There are few places to cross and none by public transportation. So... not going there today or any day soon. Plus it's a 3 to 4 hour drive.

Where would I go in Canada? P.E.I. ...but tourists have found it. Prince Edward Island, home of Anne of Green Gables, would be lovely in the Summer. As long as I were there, then New Brunswick and Nova Scotia are must sees.

Maybe I'd stop in on the islands of Saint-Pierre et Miquelon on the way to Newfoundland. They're still part of France. Summer would be good as there are more orchid species in Newfoundland than anywhere in North America.

Labrador? Why not.

I've been to Québec and Ontario, but Québec City is the most European city this side of France and I'd love to visit it. Summer would be fine but Autumn (for leaf turn) and Winter (they do Winter right) would also be good.

In Ontario I cold visit friends near Peterborough. Toronto is a great multi-cultural metro and I should stop in. Visit a friend in Kitchener? Again, why not!

Winnipeg is a great cultural city. There's not much else in Manitoba. It's far away from anything Canadian; it's closest neighbor is Grand Forks North Dakota, 3 hours south. Still interests me.

Saskatchewan is open with few people. I once had a friend from there. It's like Eastern Montana but flatter and colder. Alberta is also flat until you run into the mountains. My sister loved Banff back in her hiking days. I'd probably just travel through it on my way to Hay River in NWT. Not much there either.

Yes, I've been to BC. Vancouver is ... problematic. Big, expensive. I checked on hostels. The cheapest aren't cheap and the ones with decent ratings are expensive... found one in Victoria though... Victoria is one of the places on my bucket list. I once was a gardener and it's the garden city.

From there I could take the ferry across and visit my sister on Discovery Bay. She can see Canada in the distance when she walks down to the water.

June 30, 2019 at 3:37pm
June 30, 2019 at 3:37pm
Mission ... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ... Statement

BCOF: Do you have a mission statement? If so, what is it? If not, what would you say if you were to write a mission statement?

Absolutely. I'm stealing from Snow Angel . Her eloquent explanation is found here: "Mission Statement

I believe in the Oneness of Humanity...
and my life will continue to embrace this belief as I encourage communication across any barrier, visible or not.

The issue becomes details. Mission Statements are broad. In the past, I brought people physically together at parties and gatherings to break through barriers. I had definite objectives and achieved them.

Now I continue to struggle how to connect either with writing or travel. Some is for personal pleasure, but I'm constantly connecting when I write a story of poem for a specific person or group of people. I discussed this with Kat just yesterday; I've done it often.

And travel? Sharing experiences, both teaching and learning. I'm not dead yet!

Facebook has become a problem as people think that shouting at each other is acceptable. I disagree. I need to foster communication and eloquence, as in: "I like/don't-like it when so-and-so says such-and-such because it's-a-lie/false/hurtful/etc. based on personal-experience/facts/verified-sources

Blogville is tricky. I will continue to comment as much as I can, realizing that I won't get many comments back. That saddens me, but I will persist.

This is the last blog entry of this series. Not sure where I'll go from here, but I'll keep you posted.

At the moment I'm listening to NRK Sápmi out of Karasjok, Norway. (Find it at Radio.garden)

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