Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
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: "Zmitri" "Glice" "In search of Iris" "Boise City" "Wheat penny" Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" : "Death of Jeannie New Moon" "Doing and don'ting. A scene in 2nd person." "Even in chaos ... More hockey poems." "A Thanksgiving Dinner poem and the WDC Zoo" "Poems inspired by maps. Remember 1963?" FACES PLACES Kåre Enga ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
It was the color of your roots... pale compared to the green growth of algae on your hair. The Waters honored your Passing. They waved in applause that it had been swift without suffering. No lingering shift from darkness into twilight. A thousand stars lit your locks as your bloated body floated by. The dish of the Moon contemplated your countenance and caressed you from her heights. "Helen." I whispered as if my breaking heart could revive you, the memory of your blood moistening my lips. The reunion on April 18th had been well planned. The unsuspecting guests had gathered. I was one of them. ... Could this become something? I don't know; but it was based on a word-list prompt posted in "Blogging Circle of Friends " 60.704 |
"I'll build my castle upon this rock." She remembered. Scurrying, laboring. Pitter-patter of children. Smoke of burning. Graves littering her base. Rebuilding. New tenants. New slogans. "I'll defend this rock with my life." Always promised ... for millennia. She missed them. |
Tin soldiers marched to-and-fro. Their wind-up hearts would last an hour or two. Long enough for mechanical morons to distract the Boss from what was important. Paradise Lounge would explode in 20 minutes. Even the dolls knew it was Doomsday. |
We brave wind and waves. We must. Our families depend on us. No fish, no food. Every winter some of us don't return; but, widows in black attest we did our best and our children will remember a full belly. |
I can show you how. The directions aren't easy to follow for a lefty. Learn by doing, my father always said. Hold it like this... see? But he was right-handed. Only a lefty can properly demonstrate anything to another lefty. |
Klaus lost everything. What did not go up in smoke had been destroyed by earth, air and water. None-the-less, he kept breathing, eating venison, even snoozing — when exhausted. Poverty was a red-nosed light-bulb flashing "homeless", a scarlet letter on steroids. |
A cup would do if you don't have a pint. I left my beaker in the lab. You don't... do you have a half-a-cup to spare? I'm just making pancakes. Oh, thank you! I'll bring you one when they're done. |
She wouldn't be finished on time. At age 93, she no longer cared. They called her "Doll-Lady", still didn't know her name. Would any of them show up at her wake? This doll. This doll would be buried with her. |
Set it down. Now. Square your shoulders and stand up straight. You've been carrying that load for fifty years. Let it go. It ain't yours to carry. Truth is... it never was. So stand up straight. Let's go. Now. |
"TM stands for Truth Matters." Maybelle was convinced of that. The classmates shook their heads. "Trademark" someone shouted. Maybelle scowled. "And what good is a trademark if you're selling lies? What you sell must be true — or it doesn't matter." |