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 |    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 L  V COMMENTS!On a practical note, in answer to your questions: IN MEMORIUM VerySara  passed away November 12, 2005 Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings. More suggested links:  These pictures rotate.   Kåre  Enga~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
| LET'S TALK PROCESS! As my writer-friends know I'm scatter-brained and easily distracted... much like a cat.  So, it's normal for me to channel my inner Feline and vomit all over the page.  Then... someone (usually me) has to clean up the mess. Sometimes there're diamonds hidden among the hairballs.  For "The Writer's Cramp"  Bianca, bless her pea-pickin' heart, wants us to write ONE doublet by noon tomorrow.  Well, never one to follow directions, I gagged up a bunch of... seven of them. I've cleaned them up some but left the originals as popnotes to amuse the curious (or bored).Ah... since dialects divide us (they needn't, but...), some observations: choc'late is two syllables [a] choc-o-late like e-ve-ry would be three; 'all y'all' and 'ya' are American, mostly Southern, slang [b]; Goddess/God? a matter of linguistics and/or belief [b]; two-fer-one poems [b,c] twinsies, brothers from another mother; 'delicious' [d] is a double entendre as Delicious is a well-known apple where I grew up; 'gimme' [e] is slang for 'give me'; [f] is admittedly an aliterative hisssss and 'last night' can mean yesterday or 'YOUR last night' as sometimes I like the humor of ambiguity; 'vittles' = chow, grub, food, y'know? [g]. So these are the 7. If you have time, please quickly read and tell me which you liked the most (or disliked the least): No calories, they said At lunch, salted chocolate cookies beckon. At home, "I reckon I could lose some weight." original notes for 70a [70a] Goddess visits Texas I created all y'all out of love — Zap! Unfortunately, ya didn't listen. [70b] Zapped Our Lord created us-all lovingly; unfortunately, we can't get along. [70c] original notes 70b&c Apple of my eye Were you always delicious? Me the worm that dearly wanted to make you my home? [70d] original notes for 70d San Diego would be hell Just gimme the smell of lightning, the clap of thunder, rain washing away ennui. [70e] original notes for 70e Last Night Slithering past the sentry at sunset, Sally seeks the heat of your warm embrace. [70f] original notes for 70f Priorities On the run to fetch some bread-n-vittles, slow down to pet the whining puppy's head. [70g] original notes for 70g Bianca's note and example ▼ WHICH ONE(S) DO YOU LIKE THE BEST? What is your process? |
| I don't need: fever, chills, headaches, and your tsk-tsk-tsk to know I'm truly sick. [68a] Words: 1,2,3,4,1. Syllables: 2,3,5,5,1 (tsk-tsk-tsk can also be said as a triplet). Metrical/musical: ?. Political Show Conspiracies Couldn't they imagine life without drama? We demand truth — or consequences. [68b] Words: 1,2,3,4,1. Syllables: 2,4,5,5,3 (emdash adds a beat). Metrical/musical: ?. Saturday night at the casino Grapes of Wrath, bright rainbow bruises, all fights fade to purple. [68c] Lotus of Battambang Nine doorways beckon. Enter and leave all doubts and pain behind. [68d] Atheist condemned This! This way leads to heaven; why do you choose hell? [68e] An atheist responds I'd rather die as I live: Lovingly embracing all — especially you. [68i] Ringing When in doubt, call an expert. My line be always busy. [68f] Squeeze One. Two halves. Our hearts beat fragrant, healthy, juicy, vibrant orange. [68g] January Your head swivels east and west never answering, committing, explaining, Janus. [68h] Words: 1,2,3,4,1. Syllables: . Metrical/musical: ?. For "The Writer's Cramp" huser:lansinger.land (Bianca): Thanks to Bibliotheek Oostland (Library Oostland) in Lansingerland, who pointed me to this form. "Elfje", Elevenie is a poetry form which is used to help people get aquainted with writing poetry in forms. It consists out of eleven words, divided over five lines. 1st line: one word 2nd line: two words 3rd line: three words 4th line: four words 5th line: one word. Line 1 to 4 may form a long sentence, and line 5 summarizes the content of line 1 - 4 in just one word. Somtimes additional requirements can be given, (like: Line 1, object, line 2 colour etc) but it is not mandatory. |
| Serpents all The Snake River wallows, lonesome, in the deep and narrow gorge it carved, following the focused rush of raindrops ocean bound; but you, O Colombia, you who braved the floods that scoured the plains as mountain ice-dams burst with melting lust, must watch us crouch upon your sinuous banks in four-armed hugs: curling, coiling, trussed. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.66] (20.august.2022) Notes: adjective: sinuous having many curves and turns. "the river follows a sinuous trail through the forest" Lignende: winding windy serpentine curving twisting meandering snaking snaky zigzag zigzagging turning bending curling coiling undulating tortuous sinuate ogee anfractuous flexuous meandrous serpentiform Motsatt betydning: straight lithe and supple. "the sinuous grace of a cat" Lignende: lithe supple agile graceful loose-limbed limber lissom willowy slinky lithesome Motsatt betydning: clumsy |
| In progress to fashion into a poem. When I left yesterday for tomorrow I stopped here along the way. And this is how the dawn/beginning, the noon/zenith, the sunset/fading (that) now defines-me/fashioned-my-clay. Red sketch stretching across the sky/ending-of-the-day the sky-river's ripple headed elsewhere, a nowhere I've never visited but one that beckons me to fly/soar today. As the untraveled/untrammeled path devoid of footsteps begs to guide me. I put one thought before the other and pray. This moment is mine and mine alone, along the lonely bay they say holds my heart gently as time/breath and seconds sway/fade-away. I will enter tomorrow with gladness knowing that it too will become a precious/golden/gold-pressed memory of yesterday. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.64] (19.august.2022) |
| Full moon falling The rain, the fog, the foto they took before the moon crashed. Life now snuffed or glass-embedded, mangled, the muffled cries that faded before light returned to fossils found strewn among the frosted memories of long-forgotten folks that once drove headlong, unforgiving, through fog and mist, much like us, following the moans and haunting howls undaunted. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.63] (18.august.2022) For August '22: "Spirits at Lighthouses Contest - Closed" |
| Boomerang Kind words waft on winds that wend your way, hoping you will send them back — someday — or pay them forward. Nothing boomerangs quite like karma. So I wish in whispers, keep an ear to quivering ground, decipher every crack of lightning, scry each thundering boom. Know that in my heart there's room for you. I'll keep the light on just in case. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.62] (17.august.2022) In "Boomerang [62]" Earlier version: Boomerang Kind words waft on winds I send your way, hoping you will send them back — someday — or pay them forward. Nothing boomerangs quite like karma. So I wish in whispers, keep an ear to the quivering ground, decipher every crack of lightning, scry the thunder's boom. Know there's room for you in my heart. I'll keep the light on just in case. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.62] (17.august.2022) |
| Plumage Feather in my cap, I strut fast-forward and don't look back. As a river flows overhead; I open an umbrella, slog through the crap. When smoke signals sent from I-don't-know make me choke and fall apart, I blow my top like Yellowstone — an up-welling of magma from my heart. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.61] (15.august.2022) Plume (prompt for Express it in Eight): a feather in my cap; a river flowing overhead; smoke signals sent from Idaho... an upwelling of magma from my heart. |
| August death by dust Willow watches as hot winds brush her long tresses, two blackbirds squawking at passersby, where stunted cattails stand stoic, defiant of this drought. As for us — Do yesterday's sorrows predict tomorrow's triumphs or more trials that erode the soul's grip on life, as eyes blink and lashes brush away this drying dust. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.60] (12.august.2022) 7 lines ~52 words |
| Draft of '72 You tied me to a tree till I turned yellow, stroked my slick hard topaz, my soft shades of mellow... Now you tie a ribbon... so quick to forget, that long before you sent me off to war, you wished me dead. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.58] (11.agosto.2022) |
| Lament of the long-lived loser Sweat gathers in wrinkles, ripples in dark pools under glazed eyes. What a price for having out-lived myself — once more. When will I learn to bloom before dawn, wither before each noon day's blast. Better to be a mayfly: fragile and joyful — than battered, bitter and torn. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [179.57] (10.agosto.2022) |
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