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 |    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 L  V 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 |
| Sitting on his tomb Instead of moving on he remains a ghost to all who remember the boy who was never in a hurry to grow up who died none-the-less with each waking hour as Death offered a release from the fear of living. © Kåre Enga [177.313] (18.januar.2021) 8 lines free verse. Prompt: INSTEAD and HURRY for "EXPRESS IT IN EIGHT"  |
| Old Stallion Ne'er a modicum of humility, he bangs his brand like a mare — as if — the universe cares. © Kåre Enga [177.312] (17.januar.2020) 5 lines, 24 syllables (10/4/5/4/1). Prompt: modicum. Ne'er is contraction of 'never' and has one syllable. For "Invalid Item" |
| Veiled your voice your eyes the only sorts of sense a ghost can savor oh, to know the haptic hug of life © Kåre Enga [177.309] (14.januar.2021) 7 lines free verse of 24 syllables. For: "Invalid Item" Prompt: haptic: relating to the sense of touch. |
| Covid cuffs-and-collars covid-cuffs and covid-collars how we ache inside our bubbles how we break them masked men — unmasked stalk alone down empty sidewalks hoping no one cuts across their lonely path © Kåre Enga [177.308] (14.januar.2021) 8 lines free verse to prompt "breaking bubble" from "EXPRESS IT IN EIGHT" , entered into "Shadows and Light Poetry Contest" . Note: Covid-cuff: mask dangling from the wrist. Covid-collar: mask hanging around the neck. 104.842 |
| Blind Beth arranges her bedroom like luxe garden parties, both a mimesis of rules she'll never see. KE [177.307] (12.januar.2021) 4 lines 7/6/7/4, could be a 13/11 couplet. For "Invalid Item" |
| Arsonists Soon we'll travel to Cairo She's such a pyro! I'm a mere tyro! We're an inflammable match. © Kåre Enga [277.306] (10.januar.2021) For "Invalid Item" 4 lines 7/5/5/7. rhyme: aaax 'tyro' as in novice |
| Till all Time ends what flows where no rain weeps rivers of mossy stones silent in their grief waiting for a drop or two moon-shadows of the bridge above some spare relief for those who gasp beneath where I await my doom to join you on the other side where no tears bloom where pain cannot be felt and where we'll wander tomb to tomb till all Time ends holding hands by moon-light © Kåre Enga [177.305] (9.januar.2021) 8 long mirrored lines 6/18/12/6 6/12/18/6, some rhyme and alliteration. For
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| [Beneath this sky of one thousand stars] Beneath this sky of one thousand stars I wish that we-two might hug; to be loved by one whom I love well tis sweeter than wine filled jugs. To be held by one who loves me well in spite of my deep black hole, Oh, cleave to me now until Death's door liberates our starbound souls. © Kåre Enga [177.303] 8 lines: 9/7/9/7 (97.97 D) xaxa xbxb For:
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| She entered the plastic display next to the Jade Museum. It was the brightness that dazzled Tanya as she hugged herself. She thought she'd floated above the clouds or that the clouds had come down to earth in their fluffiness to sparkle and wink at her. And maybe she had. There was a penguin and a bear (stuffed of course). Neither were found on the dirty streets of San Jose or the dusty paths of her village outside of Cartago. This appeared almost clean as if the rains had cleansed it then had frozen solid to the ground like the inside of her mother's fridge. Was this how it was up north? She doubted it. Her cousins in New Jersey never mentioned bears, and they would have as they constantly teased her how life there was so much better. Her uncle in Pennsylvania cheered for the Penguins but they were a hockey team... whatever that was. Her cousin Jorge gave up trying to explain, finally saying that it was like futbol except with sticks and skates and... She never did understand. Here, it was the season when pastores bloomed and setting out the posada, the time to eat tamal de cerdo and watch the fireworks announcing a holy birth and then again bringing in a new year. She hugged herself, mesmerized and unwilling to leave just yet. The lights played off of the frozen crystals. Better than the fake plastic ones found a few blocks away in China Town. What was winter like in China? Her Chen and Coto families didn't know. 5 generations of barely making a living on the volcanic slopes of Irazú had erased all memories, except "there are palm trees there too" they said to remind her that everywhere the grass was still green, just like it was outside her window. Was it still green when frozen? She rubbed her arms and turned to leave. Ah... but the bright scene sparkling all around her made her pause. Someday she would visit her cousins for the holidays and find out for herself. © Kåre Enga [177.302] (31.diciembre.2020) 346 words ... more or less... for
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| Man at work, 2021 We are tired — months, years, centuries of tired. We peek out not knowing whether it's safe today, praying that it'll be safe someday. But when? There are no answers to when wars end. They stop for a brief moment, perhaps for months, maybe for years, seldom for centuries. Interludes restore our hope for peace — then shatter the calm as wars start again. Is it safe to come out? Is it safe, my friend? peeking out of a manhole cover — rejoining the world © Kåre Enga [177.300] (25.desember.2020) Note: incorporates "tataki #8" based on "Man at Work" bronze in Bratislava, Slovakia. Trinket:   104769 |
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