L'aura del Campo

This and that... there's a game today.

Today's scribble

Five cats

I

Frenchy,
white and brown fur
my sister Di brought home.
I leashed him to the line one day.
He left.

II

Greyface,
Nebraska girl,
had four kittens: Oda,
Bender, Quiet Eyes, one I can't
remember.

III

Peaches,
one-eyed-wonder,
broken tooth and paw, five
pounds of nothing, nursing kittens
not-her-own.

IV

Persia
didn't like me.
Couldn't hear her name called.
Searched for hours. Blue eyes hid behind
the stove.

V

Frenchy,
brown and white stray,
purred his way into my home.
Begged my father's company before
he died.

© Kåre Enga

Sketching it out:

This is a very old poem that no one reads "Five cats" . It's a chain of 5 American cinquains. Basically 2-4-6-8-2 = 22 syllables. Yes, I know these are 22,23,23,23,24. Although all poetry is fiction, this is based on fact. Yes, there were two Frenchys.

Other writers say...

I think of Bukowski when I think of my friend Leland, so ... Bukowski on poetry:



Thou:

Need some inspiration from the Dalai Lama? A worthy read: "Invalid Entry"  in the blog of SummerLyn Guthrie

Me and Mine:

Ever do loads of work and then not save it correctly? Well... I did. Found all these wonderful links at YouTube for poets reading their work. Didn't save them correctly. Now I get to do them all over again. Argh...

Did some laundry yesterday and got out to First Friday and saw stuff and spoke to people. Even wrote another short story "Snuffing out Sheyenne." It'll need work, but I had told Dustin he should write a screen play and I ran into him again at an art gallery... so I wrote a short story.

Today is football day. I have enough warm clothes, but 20-something is not my idea of football weather. More like skating-on-the-pond weather.

Need to take a shower and then warm up before heading out. I'm listening to Richard Hugo read his poetry.

Montana: 24º and cold in Missoula; still no snow in town.

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