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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 |
| Sparrows Gave up on Life long ago 7 Gave up on feasting, content with crumbs 5/4 Yet birds survive on very little 9 before winter's icy blast. 7 Then they snuggle in a tree 7 or abandoned freeze at last alone. 9 For without friends we often struggle 9 Hold me tight my (childhood) chum. 5(7) [326] (21.januar.2022) Selvedge The Sky's hem unravels, first the golden thread, then the scarlet, leaving only indigo and puce. Night's curtain descends, a charcoal shroud with pinprick holes as frayed edges dim, bowing to the New Moon's ebony when Void's brighter shade, fills the silent air as thick blankets of clouds move in and smother hope with despair. [327] (21.januar.2022) Mirrored in the buffalo's eyes To see sunrise mirrored in the buffalo's eyes, glinting off the flooded fields where thin blades of rice wait for a breeze to bring it news. The morning's traffic sings the market's dawn song, those precious moments before the day warms up, as it has for hundreds of years. The monkeys nod. The buffalos know. The elephants too. They tried to slow down the two-legged ones who scurry among them. They gave up centuries ago. [316] (18.januar.2022) Butterfly #1 In Space no life, no death, no wind, no need for wings, in emptiness, no words Be! Be! Give life to words that breed the need for wings that flutter, start a breeze [313] (17.januar.2022) |
| Little scratchings Faded jottings, grey on yellow, fill the space between the margins, crawl across long lonely lines, stumble over each erasure, circle doodles in torn corners — long forgotten. Once — but that transpired long ago, my mind constrained, this notebook blank; dour thoughts spilled and stained the pages, now stacked journals holding secrets, jaundiced like abandoned ivory — turning sallow. But in the back — a pristine sheet! My hand trembles, grabs a pencil — scribbling once more. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.323] (20.januar.2022) 15 lines 2nd place  for Jnuary '22
Prompt: A BLANK PAGE. Taboo words: fresh, clean, new, promise, resolutions, or any derivatives of these words |
| Blue bubble Nesting here in my blubble, the spring-green meadows beckon; the darkest purple waning as indigo shifts to blue. When will this lonely blubble burst forth in golden smiles, your laughter sundering world, blue, blue, so blue without you. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.325] (21.januar.2022) 8 lines Blue + bubble = blubble, a sad lonely place. For
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| Soured wine Fruit of our fears, the running away, the hunger. Survival by theft, by cooperation, sheer luck. The bittersweet homecoming generations later. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.322] (20.januar.2022) For
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| A. FALLS 5/7/4 [319a] one tear too heavy falls from winter's ornaments the morning dew B MISTS 4/7/4 [319b] rain turns to snow mists across the northern hills snow turns to rain C WARM 4/5/3 [319c] carpeted halls warm winter's floorboards woollen socks D CHIRP 3/6/4 [319d] chickadees chirp in berried bushes phone messages E SLIPPING 4/5/3 [317a] the mailman falls slipping on black ice young girls twirl F WAVING 5/7/3 [317b] uniformed children waving in the afternoon flag half-staff G DRIPPING 3/5/4 [317c] cold raindrops dripping from the eaves icicles melt H PEELING 4/7/5 [317d] cracked flakes of paint peeling off the window ledge yellowed autumn leaves I QUIVER 3/7/5 [315a] autumn leaves quiver, hide under bushes calico kittens J SIGNALLING 4/5/4 [315b] geese headed south signalling the change grey clouds gather K DANCING 3/6/4 [315c] swallows swoop dancing between lamplights midges rising L REPLACED 5/6/5 [315d] winter castles slump replaced by slush and mud piles of dirty snow M GLINTING 4/6/3 [315e] a diamonded ring glinting in the mirror midnight stars N SEEN 3/5/3 [301a] flocks of geese seen in the distance scudding clouds O BURIED 5/6/4 [301b] ashes of a bird buried under a rock last night's dinner P FLOATING 4/6/5 [301c] old cut timber floating down the river yesteryear's harvest © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.301,315,317,319] (Januar.2022) |
| Sandman counts the stars Like castles that defy the waves, Sandman stands at the glistening shores of a new day counting each star as the tide embraces his feet, starting over each time he wobbles; until, like time, he washes away, each grain seeking its own destination; the stars blinking out in dismay. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.318] (18.januar.2022) 8 lines for
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| Sycamores Whither old sycamores of my mother's childhood; how long since they cut down our elm? Whither cold tears I spilled hidden in the closet; how vast the regrets I still shed? Whither warm loaves of bread my grandmother baked; how long can fragrances linger? Whither new memories I can never remember; how do those sycamores persist? © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.312] (17.januar.2022) 8 lines 12/8 with anaphora. for
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| up the highest hill hill highest the up — down to the lowest depths, Look — you will find me — everywhere. Even blind men know my song, the deaf my fragrance. Wander then as Wayfarers: up and down, up and down. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.311] (16.januar.2022) 8 lines ... at a slant. for
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| the Abyss speaks I am the crack you fall into — the depths you will never escape, in this darksome lover's embrace — the balm of bone and heart healing. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.309] (15.januar.2022) for
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| Ah... to be orange amidst the blue, in search of moisture, a sip of salt, a spot of warmth among the dark; light upon the fluttering breeze, a mote to please the wandering eye that settles on me, resting here, or as I float against the celestial sky. Ah, to be orange and not ignored. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.300] (11.januar.2022) For "EXPRESS IT IN EIGHT"  An image of an orange butterfly on blue stones "EIGHT - 01.11.22" |
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