Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
Through the dark, dance the beat Hear the pulse of the street, feel the rhythm of growth and of rest. What is best, write it down as a descant that floats above melodies of time and of place, blend it with voices marked by humanity. Or in a growl, startle all. Make them wake from their stupor. Life may start as a lullaby lowed soft and sung sweet, but it's best danced flamenco, feet stomping, arms raised, a gesture of defiance to dying light of the day, a prayer hissed at vespers, this hour before dark. Kiss the flame! Feel the rhythm! Through the dark, dance the beat. © 2008 Kåre Enga [165.381.J1893] 2008-12-17 "It is important to hear the rhythm ... " was the initial prompt. I decided to write it in my Journal which fits better when writing prose or poetry without breaks. Then I edited. Written at Sushi Hana between tako and tomiko. BLAH BLAH BLUESHEEP: "Two cups and a pastry. Life is good. Read that the Griz game will be on the big screen at the Wilma. It's a short walk across a long bridge. It's the first bldg on the northside; where I live, the first bldg on the south. And a river runs through it. And a bridge goes over it. And I pray the wind doesn't blow." [J1892] So, stopped in at Celtic Connection, Sushi Hana, Bernice's. Didn't get up till noon as I didn't sleep well. It got above zero today ... I swear. Even a few minutes of sunshine and little wind. Montana: 8º at 18:53 9765 |