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Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
Sentinel Marked as if you own me I bow before the Bitterroots and just like you my rocky soil, my withered grass lays prey to the empty sky. © Kåre Enga 2007 "Sentinel" ![]() ![]() ![]() Reader's Choice of Poems: "Sentinel" ![]() "In Lagada, la vita" ![]() "Between us" ![]() "Boise City" ![]() "Mauve Mavis" ![]() Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" ![]() "Death of Jeannie New Moon" ![]() "Doing and don'ting. A scene in 2nd person." ![]() "In a garden of roses, baby" ![]() "A Thanksgiving Dinner poem and the WDC Zoo" ![]() "Guitarman, a gift for Gary. Aaron Marable's art." ![]() FACES ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() PLACES ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Kåre ![]() ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
Seymour: before you die... Oh, Seymour — Make me happy, Seymour. Water me, feed me, speak to me. I'll sing about the trials of my day: dawn, noon's sun-scorch, twilight, the ... Nights of White Satin as you fall asleep unaware I keep watch over you. Last time you traveled no one watered me and I feared for my existence. Then you nearly drowned me with tears as you sobbed it was all a mistake. I've been here 15 years. I helped you bury your cat, your dog, your mother ... I'll miss you. Who will you gift me to? Do they know that I can sing? © Kåre Enga [181.26.S#6] (16.juni.2024) 100 word drabble. Prompt: a plant or animal. Made into an item: ""Seymour: before you die..." S#6 100 w" ![]() |
Blackie lay dead. "Must've used up all nine lives." "With some help." "Hey, it survived the last time I killed it." "Well, then what..." "...or who." "That tomcat over there looks guilty." "So does that dog." "That old lady sure looks mean." The raggedy tom hissed. Boris threw a stone. The pit-bull growled. Alexandria growled back. the old lady spat at them. "Hey, aren't you rabid? Who let you out?" The two brats laughed; then bored, they left. Miss Cherry-Mae, Pretty-boy and Fluffy carefully approached. Are they gone? The cat meowed. "Good job everyone, maybe this time they'll leave us alone." |