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 |
Draft of '72 You tied me to a tree till I turned yellow, stroked my slick hard topaz, my soft shades of mellow... Now you tie a ribbon... so quick to forget, that long before you sent me off to war, you wished me dead. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.58] (11.agosto.2022) |
Lament of the long-lived loser Sweat gathers in wrinkles, ripples in dark pools under glazed eyes. What a price for having out-lived myself — once more. When will I learn to bloom before dawn, wither before each noon day's blast. Better to be a mayfly: fragile and joyful — than battered, bitter and torn. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [179.57] (10.agosto.2022) |
Silence sounds golden Brackish water won't quench the drunk. Track the cat, beware the claws. Crack your back but not your uncle's. Back off! Now! Quack goes the duck. *ACK* goes Bill. Clack goes the ghost; crushed cups kill. Screech all you want; but, shut-the-f***-up, till I'm not here. © Kåre Enga (1.august.2022) [179.54] Prompt: raucous: making or constituting a disturbingly harsh and loud noise. A raucous sound is loud, harsh, and rather unpleasant. Harsh sounds: K (b,d,g is mentioned but in Spanish these are soft; a consonant cluster may be harsher br,dr,gr) P, T (but not as harsh as K) S... but to me that's a hiss. L in English (alveolar) and Spanish (dental) is mostly liquid but a velar L (like in Portuguese and Polish is harsh). R? can be very harsh if it is velar, uvular or comes out of the throat (like in Dutch or French). In genral vowels, nasals and liquids are non-harsh sounds. Consonant clusters in words like strict or 'er' sounds like curter are unpleasant enough that they are not pronounced with an 'r' in many dialects. |
Anatomy of a pochette Was it how you worked the leather, when suede pieces sewed together, a brown strap became a tether, caressing your heart. The one you guard inside your chest, the one you seldom share nor test, the one I love more than the rest, kept at a distance. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.50] (27.juli.2022) 8 lines; rhyme aaax; 8/8/8/x; ovi, a Marathi poetic metre. Pochette: wallet, handbag. Prompt: structure For "EXPRESS IT IN EIGHT" |
Cherries before chores Morning has broken when the sky opens up. Dreams interrupted by the flashes and claps. Chores still await me; it's cooler than before. Cooler to watch rain, pop cherries in my mouth. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.48] (24.juli.2022) 8 lines; no rhyme; 5/6/5/6. Note: line 6: 'before' or 'last night'? |
One beat —I'm here to return a heart. —We don't... —It's slightly worn and very tired, but it still beats. —We... —don't accept hearts. I know. This place operates without one. — ... —Don't look so shocked. I used to live here. I had to leave just to find a heart. None for sale or rent within 100 miles. —We... —like it that way. I understand. But this heart is special. —How is that? It looks just like any other heart. —Oh... are you sure? Look closer. — ... —Don't act so afraid. — ... —I traced it back to its owner. —And? —It once belonged to you. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.47] (22.juli.2022) |
Fruits of inaction The other shoe dropped and we were tearful—and wailing. it couldn't be stopped, so we sat there sinking—and bailing. We knew it was coming, that day when no rights—would be left, but we'd done nothing, so we mourn, distraught—and bereft. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.46] (21.juli.2022) 8 lines abab. For
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Well-worn copper Lincoln never visited Denver, a mob-ruled town where "a man's life is of no more worth than a dog's". Now I gaze at his worn face minted in 1999, stamped with a D. But not D for Dad who died in 1999 when this coin was a shiny copper. And not dust as surely both now are, as surely as I will be some day. How can a penny be worth so little when once as a child I counted every one. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.43] (6.juli.2022) 10 lines * Quote is from William Hepworth Dixon May enter into "Shadows and Light Poetry Contest" |
Mystress of May laments Welcome to my world that oozes green, a land of ichor, and sickly things. a place where you don't dare to sit nor rest where nestlings eye your fleshy wings. My land spits pestilence and drought, broad wastelands of fire and eyes that burn, barren birthlands dead to all that lived where maggots midst your bones will churn." Hush, before June's Mistress hears you gloat; she'll wipe your presence off her globe the one she holds tight in her hand the one she peers at with her probe. She ordered me to speak, so hold your breath! Ha! She commanded me to arrange your death. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.40] (30.juni.2022) For:
14 lines (xaxa,xbxb,xcxc,dd) brought to you by: ** Image ID #2274040 Unavailable ** &&& ** Image ID #2274039 Unavailable ** |
For June '22 "Invalid Item" Gingerbread, gingerbread, Gingerbread Man Bake me a cake as fast as you can. Gingerbread Man in a slow rattling whisper Use unsalted butter — and unsulphured molasses, they say; but — life is bittersweet. Add blackstrap, mind the boiling water, forget the grimaces on that kiddie's face — more for me. Is your hair still red? Even better — add a snip or two. Make sure you have enough baking soda — before you begin. Substitute two small eggs if yours aren't large enough. Did you find the cloves? They've been hidden behind the cinnamon since last time — oh so long ago. I missed you, your freckles, that crooked leg — sorry about the dog. Whisk it up in a bowl. My arms don't have the strength — they're always sore. Bake until its done, then slice a fresh hot piece. Too bad you're just a cookie — or I'd ask for more. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.39] (30.juni.2022) 24 lines, free verse Recipe by Once Upon a Chef (Jenn Segal) found on-line: 1½ cups all-purpose flour, spooned into measuring cup and leveled-off with back edge of knife 1 teaspoon baking soda ½ teaspoon salt 2 teaspoons ground ginger 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon ¼ teaspoon ground cloves 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted ⅔ cup packed dark brown sugar ⅔ cup mild-flavored molasses, such as Grandma's Original (not Robust or Blackstrap) ⅔ cup boiling water 1 large egg Begin by combining the flour, baking soda, salt, ginger, cinnamon and cloves in a large bowl. Whisk to combine and set aside. Melt the butter in a large microwave-safe bowl. Whisk in the brown sugar, molasses, and boiling water. When the mixture is lukewarm, whisk in the egg. (If the mixture is too hot, it will cook the egg.) Add the dry ingredients. Whisk until there are no more lumps. Pour into pan. Bake for about 35 minutes. |