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 |
Interlude One harp harkens through cold black/white starkness, soothing catharsis of the crimson bursts of blood and ire. © Kåre Enga [177.135] (12.juli.2020) For:
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Consideration Once upon a little star* I sat there waiting if perchance you needed help, some explanation. Once upon an asterisk I spoke in latin, clarified confusing thoughts or consternation. © Kåre Enga [177.131] (11.juli.2020) *asterisk: 'a little star' (8 lines: 7/5/7/5) Choose any word to use in your poem, AND also include the listed meaning. Two Latin words for a star or constellation: 'aster' and 'sidus'. They glimmer across English: disaster: an ill-starred event. asterisk: a little star. astronaut: a star-sailor. consider: to observe the stars. desire: to wish upon a star.
Notes to self: 12/12 or 7/5/7/5 (48 syllables total), rhythmic. "mollified conflicting thoughts or constipation" |
Unanswered We danced until the twilight faded; we danced until the break of dawn; we tangoed all week on vacation: London Barcelona, Paris, Rome. Now wanting more you call: and the blinking light, unopened mail, my silence, questions all... © Kåre Enga [177.130] (9.juli.2020) (10 lines) A reverse etheree 10...1. Prompt: UNANSWERED (HM ) For:
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Porto He invites us, tattered, torn and pocked, yet offers a glass of port, in languid sybaritic pose. © Kåre Enga [177.128] (9.juli.2020) (14 syllables, free verse, prompt: sybaritic) Photo: looking west down the Rio Douro from the bridge connecting Porto to the right with Vila Nova Gaia. Portugal © Kåre Enga (3.outubro.2017) For:
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Waiting for the trash Lost thoughts, half-baked ideas, old photos no one asks to see, the litter of a life lived long but not too well it seems. Their stench of disappointment fades and in that box I never open daydreams I dared to dream. They beg to be released, but I've ignored them for so long they're just memories waiting for the trash like that tiny box you ask about, as if you do not know that's where I've kept my heart hoping it would someday grow. © Kåre Enga [177.129] (9.juli.2020) (14 lines) Prompt: What's in the box over there? For:
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Belgrade burning Anger explodes as curfews loom and youth reject their elders' pleas; more facile to fashion coffins. © Kåre Enga [175.125] (8.juli.2020) 8/8/8 July 8 prompt: facile for
Note: "Violence Erupts in Serbia Over Plan to Reimpose Virus Curfew" (Bloomberg) |
July, 1935 His cousin drove up in his Pierce Arrow. while his other cousin, a slim vaquero, guided the bull. The possibility, now probability, was that something would go awry. He knew shit flew between those two, so he went to join his doe-eyed bride, inside. As he always said: He preferred his shoofly pie without the flies. When all was reduced, to clarify, like a side dish of butter-and-brains, all that remained now fit in a barrow full of manure, bone meal and marrow fit to compost for next year's garden out past the outhouse, near the pasture, next to the shiny Pierce Arrow resplendent over their graves. © Kåre Enga [177.121] (6.july.2020) 26 lines Prompts: - Arrow - Clarify - Possibility For:
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When we are ready It's the emptiness between our ears we fill with harmful fears, turning inward, raising walls harder than our skulls. But not to worry— Outer Space is in no hurry to invite us to the Universe beyond our earthly hearse. © Kåre Enga [177.119] (5.juli.2020) 8 lines, aabb ccdd rhyme Space: The Final Frontier For:
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A forty-niner's 20/20 Shiny things: sun and gold and fertile fields. Now euphoria* succumbs on some California* beach. © Kåre Enga [177.122] (6.juli.2020) *both 4 syllables in my dialect. For:
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To remember Tokyo He places shellfish next to soy sauce with shiitake on the side adds seaweed and wilted spinach sprinkled with Parmesan cheese. He fills a bowl with miso and pours green tea. He savors his umami1 bomb restful on a table — until his chopsticks interrupt in haste to consume whatever pleasure's in his sight, but never never Vegemite. © Kåre Enga [177.118] (3.juli.2020) (16 lines) Write a poem that heavily relies on taste. Whether it’s about your favourite food, something you detest, or you licked a lamppost. It’s up to you!
104.406 Footnotes |