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! 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 |
Saint Regis remembered I have never stayed in Lake Placid, a misnomer encased in snow and ice, a place to drive though on the way to better vistas, calm cool nights. Spitfire, placid, hoped-for breeze, summer ease, bluegills caught, Sunfish sailing, a dingy's ride through golden lilies, a lake remembered for 50 years. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.4] (23.mars.2022) |
Naw Ruz 179 The Wheel of Time fulfills its duty to rule the Moon and tides. No need for posturing, it opens up this year, cloud shrouded and shy. It'll get better, I whisper, to the emptiness and to those who've died. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.1] (21.marzo.2022) 9 lines. Submitted to: "Invalid Item" Note: Naw Ruz is the Persian/Zoroastrian/Baha'i New Year. The Vernal equinox. |
Looking forward to new poetry prompts. From Dew Drop 2021: April 2021 Prompts: April 1—Folly in Rhyme (some kind of folly in some kind of rhyme, subtle or overt) April 2—Voila! (remember something in a short lyric burst) April 3—A welcome surprise, a haiku April 4—Poem based on the weather April 5—Potential mistake April 6—Issue a command or a challenge April 7—Poem inspired by a mythical monster or contemporary cryptid https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cryptozoology https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_cryptids April 8—Poem based on a typo or misreading April 9—Poem based on A.I. (artificial intelligence) or robotics April 10—Poem inspired by new information or scientific fact Great work, everyone! Keep it up!! April 11—Poem with transgression in form and content April 12—Excess or obsession April 13—Describe yourself as landscape April 14—An elegy April 15—Machines April 16—Caring & Caregiving April 17—There is no such place April 18—Sounds… April 19—acting your age (or not!) April 20—Tree of Life…(see link for a drawing/journaling exercise) https://nathanbweller.com/tree-life-simple-exercise-reclaiming-identity-directio... April 21—Poem based on a question April 22—Free will (or not?!) April 23—Poem based on a play (It’s Shakespeare’s birthday, but any play!) April 24—Play around with historical facts April 25—Subtitles Last 5 prompts as we approach the finish line! Everyone is doing such a great job! Feel free to post your poems-as-replies on beyond April if you get behind. Life happens!! April 26—Sijo (Korean poetic form) 3 lines of 13-17 syllables each, sometimes divided into 6 lines. Write two sijo poems: 1 of 3 lines, 1 of 6 lines… My info on sijo comes from a wonderful children's book. More info: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/sijo-poetic-form April 27—Itty Bitty Bio April 28—Hump Day April 29—Rain April 30—Catharsis |
4th element It's cold water falling from grey skies that washes away our grime and fears and douses old fires that never die. It pools where puddles splash with glee and mixes with dirt to make mud pies that frisky winds doth never lift. See summer's sun turns all to dust; but, do not grieve when water fails like us. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.380] (15.mars.2022) For
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Satin and silk so meek and mild down by the shore sleepy mid-week dreams to explore nothing to do little to say ignoring prompts napping all day © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.377] (7.mars.2022) for "EXPRESS IT IN EIGHT" |
In the garden He approached me head held high, open arms suggesting more than a hug. I thought about his offer. Sure, he was tiny, but as cute as a bug can be. Unless you're me, big, bold and constantly hungry. It was my job to maintain the bowers. Make sure that pests didn't take over flowers. I earned my security badge daily. But I am who I am, no praying mantis but predator and — he was so cute — and eager! We mated. I bit off his head. Lament not for the dead. His sacrifice made a bountiful meal. Our offspring will protect this patch until winter comes. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.373] (28.februar.2022) 14 lines... almost a sonnet. For February, 2022
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Ancient Axe From the Ancient Axe the roots of peace spread out. The blood of millions barely enough to feed it for a thousand years, red turning black then fading. Even stones forgot how it had covered altars and splattered walls. All trace of it was gone. But a breeze began to waft across the land that war forgot, rippled wheat fields, stirred deep waters. Ancient forest-trees were too late to react, their branches hewn to handles as ploughs were forged into blades. Peace was sundered. The Ancient Axe revived at last. © Kåre Enga 2011-11-26 [168.255] (edited 2022-02-27) 16 lines, free verse Original in "Knapweed No.4" [December.1. 2011] |
There was a time I held the key to your heart. Once there was time. No more. I hear an adagio from the cellist next door. Better than the explosions coming closer. Soon. Very soon. Why lament about life when there's so little left. I should ask him for a beer. You would find that funny. I still don't drink beer. Lips that taste wine... Your lips are not near. And they are dust. Has it been fifty years? There's no story left untold. No last wishes to be undone. I hold your watch and key. Soon. Very soon. |
The Connoisseur He was a connoisseur of living before he died, age twenty-two and — holding. I'm leaving before I fall apart; now, don't be grieving. I savored every moment — breathing. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.370] (18.februar.2022) For:
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Dappled Day Dawning \\\\\\\The||frisky////breeze||played| |with//the|leaves//leaving\\patterns of///dark-green|||and///green-gold ||sprinkled///across||||////||the//////// ////lawn//////////////\\\The//young||| ||sapling//joined//\\in||swaying///// ||in//a//////dance///And//me?\\\I//// //sat//there/mesmerized/entranced, \\a\\\chameleon,\\changing//colors —from—/////||\\\\\this||||to||||that\\\\\. © 2022 Kåre Enga [178.369] (17.februar.2022) For
Dappled Day Dawning The frisky breeze played with the leaves leaving patterns of dark-green and green-gold sprinkled across the lawn. The young sapling joined in swaying in a dance. And me? I sat there mesmerized, entranced a chameleon changing colors —from— this to that. © 2022 Kåre Enga [178.369] (17.februar.2022) |