Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation.
L'aura del campo
'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos'
♣ Federico García Lorca ♣
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.
PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS! I LV COMMENTS!
passed away November 12, 2005
Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings.
These pictures rotate.
~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go.
~ Elizabeth Bishop,
|March 21, 1962
To the east of choppy Lake Eerie,
Michelle L'Éclair marks her tenth birthday
with candles and cupcakes
and gifts topped with snowflakes
from her friends dressed as pink polar bears.
It's the first day of Spring
and the Winter's last fling
on the shores of snowy Lake Eerie.
© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.117] (8.juni.2021)
8 lines. 9/9/6/6/9//6/6/9 rxaax bbr
I grew up with Chelly LeClair and her birthday was in March. The rest is fictional. But Lake Erie does NOT allow Spring to have her way until May... maybe June.
She's out there
blowing the smoke around
sneaking into rooms with open windows
touching the gossamer drapes that once she owned.
for a visit from the stars
where they call out her name — the one we forgot —
the one that every child bears in her DNA,
you would seek to know
if you knew there was a secret in the smoke
that scrawls it across the starlit sky in cursive,
erased each dawn.
© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga, [178.116] (7.juni.2021)
13 lines, free verse, ekphrastic
|As Seen On TV
Buyer, buyer, pay the price.
We walk on water, glide on ice
with smiles to melt the poor man's plight
or restore the blind man's sight.
Our lanterns guide you through the night;
never an ember glowed so bright;
never a candle gave more light
than liars, liars, cold as ice.
© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.115] (5.juni.2021)
|After the break-up
Eyes lidded with bright blue mascara,
cheeks caked with whitening creme,
cold stares meant to put me in my place,
nightmares banished by warm wet-dreams.
Small vestibules never bother me;
bigger is seldom better.
It was the yellow door that opened,
the smile that let me forget her.
© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga, [178.114] (4.juni.2021)
Prompt: an image of a small house with blue/white awnings and a bright yellow door.
8 lines. 9/7/9/8 9/7/9/8 xaxa xbxb
|Yes, I know this is gruesome.
I fade, my brain oozing beside your car.
It's as detached from my body
as my heart once beat,
pickled in a jar.
Eyes now glaze over; ears no longer care.
Yes, you spoke with extreme malice
and the honest truth
I could never bear.
© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.113] (3.juni.2021)
8 lines 10/8/5/5 axxa-bxxb
|Navigating the shallows
Weeping willows caressed her arms
as she watched an osprey fish
while grey skies promised rain.
"I wish." She wished that harm
would never come to roost among
the swaying branches, that pain
would would wait for another day;
her arms felt leaden, her lungs
ready to return to clay, the pole
hung heavy. As she turned to see
a rainbow, she lifted her face
to receive a cleansing, the hole
in her heart slowly sealing
as a fish broke the surface
sending ripples racing towards shoals,
a shimmer of hope her way.
© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.105] (12.juni.2021)
16 lines with rhymes.
Taboo words for 'PUNTING ON THE RIVER':
boat, water, punt, float, splash or any derivatives of these words.
|June 0 ... 2021 till June 0 2022.
I will need to keep my prompts in this ancient p-log for
52 of them in 52 weeks. Catch-ups allowed. A challenge, not a contest per se.
1. "PPC#1 Ursa-June "
|It's time to say goodbye
Soon Lamps will cast their Light announcing that it's time to head Home. Night gathers in the East and races to catch up with the run-away Sun.
We talk until we cannot see the white Thread from the Dark.
It's time to say goodbye until the Morn.
It's time to say goodbye until the Morn.
Will Dawn ever come? Sit with me as the Moon rises to cast our Shadows, glows to show us the right Way forward... if not home.
Chill enters my bones but the warmth of your Embrace will linger after you're gone. Go now before the Nightengale is hushed by the Owl. Go before the Lamplights gutter, before our Joy is crushed by those who envy us. Go, and travel safe. Take this candle, a token of the coming Dawn.
© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.127] (27.mai.2021)
There's a certain symmetry in golden wisps that criss cross the northwest, the flag waving goodbye to the day, the clouds, the rains, goodbye to the river racing towards the sunset.
As Twilight gathers her skirts and Night his lanterns. Goodbye.
As air cools and summer sky darkens. Goodbye.
As the golden globe seeks other venues, bringing them dawn. Goodbye.
© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.126.s] (26.mai.2021)
Note: sunset comes late in Western Montana.
Together we fell from a cloud to wet the mountain peak where we parted ways. We slid downwards, each to our own destiny, off to different seas. But drops do not control their fortune or fate. In a cafe far away we sit in bottles at the back of a shelf. Apart together, bound not free. Until we're both sold to travel side-by-side. With our benefactors' kiss, united once more.
© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.125.s] (25.mai.2021)