Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation.
| L'aura del campo
WINTER: 19 Mulk (25 February) 36º.
'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos'
♣ Federico García Lorca ♣
On Saturday I went to a Poetry Reading at Spencer Museum.
I was impressed by the poem Zahara by Ahmed Nabhany (Swahili, Zahara = Venus); even in English there was a mesmerizing quality to it. I spoke with Garth Andrew Myers, the director of the Kansas African Studies Center. He said that this particular poem spoke of mahaba (unrequited love), a common theme, and that Swahili poetry (this particular form translated as 'silent rumbling') is meant to be sung. He laughed at the idea of him singing it though!
The poetry of Nama Asma'u (Hausa) needs to be better known also. The women of Islam have been overlooked. Our history is chosen for us if we do not choose otherwise. Asma'u was a voice to be reckoned with in Northern Nigeria a century ago.
Me, my friends and my family
Well Robin Larsen is playing with my friend Hub's computer. He's 'trying to get those damn video drivers up and working'. Some folks have too much fun. Me, on-the-other-hand, don't like tools that don't work. Yesterday when sitting with Carol, I couldn't get to WDC or get through screens at Yahoo. I was not happy. Today it is working and I have no clue.
I was not prepared for my class on writing profiles. I cannot open MS Word on my laptop (I use Works) and it costs to get a copy. So for now I'm fine without it; just have to go to library and makes hard copies from their computers or something (like open attachment, paste it into an email; that should work).
I ate two burritos yesterday. They were actually good. Today I made egg salad with pickle at Hub's behest. Still, nutrition and proper eating is an issue.
Carol had an egg cream yesterday and offered me a sip. I declined knowing that I'd drink it all! We spoke about growing and preparing luffa sponges. I know some strange people ...
IMAGES and RAMBLINGS
Rain sputtering down the gutter, the splash of puddles, water running towards the river; long plume of the coal plant caught by the sun, bright white against the grey of storms; damp yellow-green of late winter, the last of autumn sadness, the beginning of Spring's hope.
~ 'chapped-ass moment' according to Dustin. I mentioned hemorrhoids in response. He's like 23.
The weather has been fickle. Saw some snow last night. Some dappled sun today. It's windy, but not threatening. It's 32 and snowing in Buffalo. I'd rather be in Tahlequah where it is 54. Diana asked me whether I was thinking of moving back. I would consider it. Even if I were in Emporia, I'd be closer.
Mozambique has suffered from the floods from Cyclone Favio. Over 45 dead. For those of us entering tornado season, it is important to remember that the loss of property (in Arkansas yesterday) pales in comparison to the suffering of others.
Baby Jane Doe, by Julie Miller. A detective romance that takes place in Kansas City. Inspired by the real event surrounding Precious Doe (Erica Michelle Marie Green). Decent writing so far.
Sometimes writers go through the blues. For some of us it can be severe. If you know aeroshika, she could use some hugs.
I can get so absorbed with blogging that I forget the contests here. For instance, I've never entered "The Writer's Cramp" . I should.
Does anyone know what 'portfolio views' are exactly? I just reached 3,003.
Like water for chocolate,
the stars winked out that night,
the energies of the universe
caught in the vortex of desires,
those fires within
that consumed the dross of dawn
and the set of suns
brought all to a zenith
bright as fission,
far reaching visions of what I dreamed
before I met you.
From afar I'd seen the smoke
wondering where was the fire,
Lord, where was the flame of my desire?
For where there were embers,
there hid my hope.
Tonight begins the 4 days of Ayyam-i-Ha; the Baha'i Fast (19 days, sunrise to sunset) begins right after.
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~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!
And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish