March     ►
Archive RSS
Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/982524
Rated: 18+ · Book · Personal · #982524
Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation.
#497175 added March 23, 2007 at 3:21pm
Restrictions: None
Knowledge, Volition, Action.
First poem of the New Year

For I am at the beginning once again
carving out new memories
mahonia blooms in gold against old leaves that cling
like lovers to what's lost.
For what is gained by cleaning out
these closets if not last year's dross
forgetful that these treasures once were new
like three red tulips blooming in that sheltered spot
I spiral down along this hellish path
where helleborus sports pink petaled flesh
and privet clothes itself in kelly green.
What's seen, unseen, what privacy
there is in Hell is lost on me.
For I am on the journey
of this everwending path
that passes by the place
I once was me.



L'aura del campo

Spring: 3 Bahá 164 (23 March) 66º.

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

Knowledge, Volition, Action

Hub and I spoke about the resistance to making progress on social issues in this so-called progressive town. He mentioned three things: 1. ignorance, 2. paralysis, 3. unwillingness to make the first move.

I remember a workbook from 30 years ago on Knowledge, Volition, Action (I believe by Daniel Jordan). KVA means gaining the Knowledge, whether from others (like in books, internet) or personal experience, then having Volition, the will-to-act, to carry out a plan (this may entail goals and objectives) but nothing comes to fruition unless it is ACTED upon.

[an aside to writers: writing means actually putting pen/pencil/blood to paper or typing it out, not mere dreams that someday ... *Rolleyes* ... same with becoming published. I'm published (Kansas English, The Lawrencian, OAHM), but to be widely published beyond WDC I must make a plan and submit my poems; otherwise, my heirs get all the fun and renumeration.]

There is a problem in this town with talking heads that have a bad case of committee-itis. Because they are brilliant-but-ignorant, they simplify the problem-people by assigning labels. The labels don't fit the majority, but that's another story ... They then sit around (for the last 5 years) waiting for some agency to stand up and do something. Everyone sighs relief when an attempt is made; but, Hey! Those 'labels' are real people and labels don't stick to flesh and while some folks do get helped (in spite of, not because of) many are still left out. What to do? Back to committees bemoaning the plight of a wealthy university town that can't find its way out of a paper sack.

Of course, this is 'okay' because the livelihood of the do-gooders doesn't depend upon finding a solution to the problem. So the problem persists. Until new paradigms are suggested, but the pea-brained talking heads have no ears and no experience and 'who-are-these dirty-mosquitoes buzzing around our empty heads anyway?'

Hmmmm. So, the insanity continues. Fortunately, there has been progress the past two months and some serious things are coming to a head next week. The local yokels respond best to crises.


So, I lower my goals to 1.5/day and on the 21st I write 4. Hmmmm, my momma never tol' me dere'd be days like dis. *Smile* I had a day, May 13, 2005, when I wrote 17! So, my writing goes up and down and round and round. Quantity does NOT equal quality, but keeping the old wheels moving is a gooooood thang.

I just added two more today as separate items: "The moon is blue ice from yesterday and "Song of an Age as per Just Jamie 's request. Other recent blog poems now reviewable/ratable: "Plain cover jacket, "In search of Iris, "Crow feathers, "Like water for chocolate,, "Love-lies-bleeding, and "Spear. Thank-you to Katya the Poet for reviewing two of them.

Me, my friends and my family

I was extremely tired Wednesday evening. Took a bath and hit the bed. Barely woke up for the thunder and lightning show in the early morning.

The cloudy weather doesn't bother me so much when it is a transition into Spring. Still if the sun comes out I'm going to try to catch a ray. Carry/wear my cap now so I don't get sunburned or sprinkled on top. (no ... the rain here is not chocolate flavored).

Thursday, I listened to the K.U. basketball game. I figured they would have tough game and they did. Called my brother-in-law, Mark, afterwards to chat about it all. His team, Syracuse, didn't do as well this year. The downtown was wild after the win and this during Spring break when most of the students are gone. If they get to the Final Four, it'll be incredible.

Friday morning I missed the 9:44 bus, had to take a different one, then walked. Did get to see more helleborus that way though. Walking is a good way of noticing things.

Daily Scripture

O SON OF SPIRIT! My first counsel is this: Possess a pure, kindly and radiant heart, that thine may be a sovereignty ancient, imperishable and everlasting.

— Bahá’u’lláh

from Hidden Words of Bahá'u'lláh, link: http://reference.bahai.org/en/t/b/HW/


Well, lots of stuff, but no comments toady.


Burgeoning buds of the sweetgum; lawn flowers = beer cans; golden wreath of forsythia; hyacinths in rose, white and pale indigo; wind chimes; white violets.

Wet toilet paper clinging to the cedar, one piece stuck on yucca.


No standing zone: curb painted a flamingo red.

<< Tweedle Thumbs >> a new name for an old friend. *Smirk*

... and the season of short dandelions, the scent of dandelions, tolerant of our neglect. Spring comes in a rush of iris one foot tall, the oaks and pines holding onto last year's death, henbit blooming between rose-grey blocks of formed cement, black calico stooping on a porch to gaze at me, a magnolia awaiting Summer on Tennessee ...

The weather is windy wild and wonderful! There is a smell in the air when it is moist (better even then sweaty socks).

*Reading* READING *Reading*

Read June Jordan's Haruko / Love poems. I love the alliteration and imagery in the line 'In the staring hard around me past the pink the poppies and the precipice' from "Poem for Nana".

B.H. Fairchild's poems in Early Occult Memory systems of the Lower Midwest. For some reason his poems overwhelmed me Thursday.


Not much time to read either. Celia did e-mail me from Fargo that she had a nice visit with partyof5dj in Missoula. Now I really wish I would've had time to arrange for her to visit Bismarck.


** Image ID #1134108 Unavailable **
 Kåre *Flower5* Enga

~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go.
~ Elizabeth Bishop,
The Fish

© Copyright 2007 Kåre Enga, P.O. 22, Blogville (UN: enga at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Kåre Enga, P.O. 22, Blogville has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/982524