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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 |
| 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"  |
| 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) |
| Silence sounds golden Brackish water won't quench the drunk. Track the cat, beware the claws. Crack your back but not your uncle's. Back off! Now! Quack goes the duck. *ACK* goes Bill. Clack goes the ghost; crushed cups kill. Screech all you want; but, shut-the-f***-up, till I'm not here. © Kåre Enga (1.august.2022) [179.54] Prompt: raucous: making or constituting a disturbingly harsh and loud noise. A raucous sound is loud, harsh, and rather unpleasant. Harsh sounds: K (b,d,g is mentioned but in Spanish these are soft; a consonant cluster may be harsher br,dr,gr) P, T (but not as harsh as K) S... but to me that's a hiss. L in English (alveolar) and Spanish (dental) is mostly liquid but a velar L (like in Portuguese and Polish is harsh). R? can be very harsh if it is velar, uvular or comes out of the throat (like in Dutch or French). In genral vowels, nasals and liquids are non-harsh sounds. Consonant clusters in words like strict or 'er' sounds like curter are unpleasant enough that they are not pronounced with an 'r' in many dialects. |
| Anatomy of a pochette Was it how you worked the leather, when suede pieces sewed together, a brown strap became a tether, caressing your heart. The one you guard inside your chest, the one you seldom share nor test, the one I love more than the rest, kept at a distance. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.50] (27.juli.2022) 8 lines; rhyme aaax; 8/8/8/x; ovi, a Marathi poetic metre. Pochette: wallet, handbag. Prompt: structure For "EXPRESS IT IN EIGHT" |
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