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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 |
| My name's not Jack! Just call me Pumpkin my name's not Jack. I hide behind my cousins way in the back. I'm nothing to look at just another squash with one caveat I will not be quashed or carved into a grin to be marked or hatched. I have dignity that I defend — learned in the patch. Since I must die don't think of me as decoration bake me into pie I'll exceed your expectation. I promise. No lie. Just serve me to the poorest child or to the homeless man, those who remember how they smiled when grandma set the pan to cool. Oh, how they all would drool! My name's not Jack! I will not die to bully or scare Allow me to serve those who give back, who share, and sharing let me be grateful and not upset to die by caring without regrets. © Copyright 2020 Kåre Enga [177.257] 32 lines of abab rhyme
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| Masked mash The ghosts of horror movies past show up at parties wearing masks for even ghosts dread getting ill and living guests don't beg the thrill of dying. They say one dies but once, but die again? Enough to become a ghost and then haunt your friends. Ghosts' ghoulish stories come-to-life, their dying screams, those slashing knives, (the bloody mess) and bloodier insanity as each outdoes the other with great glee. No one hears the door click shut. No one sees the store-bought robot pocket the key. Who screams first or rather who screams last as ghouls up the volume to a blast... Let's dance dance dance! ...so nosy neighbors don't notice the knash of teeth that chomp, the well-aimed slash among true friends that gather monthly to prance and scream to relive horrors of the movie screen. © Kåre Enga [177.256] (17.oktober.2020) 24 lines of rhyming verse For:
Honorable mention:  |
| ** Image ID #2233407 Unavailable ** Me in the mirror Whisper and leave a message in the air a gossamer of mist upon the mirror for in the mansion of my mind I cannot leave; yet, do not look if you dare not perceive that like a narcissus I was once like you. I deceived myself by thinking that I was better, more fair, more open hearted until enamored with the lie I became what now you can only see: a myth, a maiden, a spectre that resides behind the glass, pressed by silver at my back, as thin as your dreams where everything seems to be what you desire. Dare not enter my nightmares where I now betide dark memories that make me shudder, where I hide the monsters of my own grim making. Cover me in thick black cloth so I cannot see; leave me here where I can do no harm; never touch my hair that dangles as if to summon you into my lair; live your life; forget about me. © Kåre Enga [177.254] (23.october.2020) 21 lines for
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 Mad dogs and... To apricate, an Englishman lies down at noon, soon shimmers shades of apricot, a bud abloom. © Kåre Enga [177.253] (16.oktober.2020) 24 syllables: 8/4/8/4 with some alliteration, rhythm, rhyme. apricate: to sunbathe or bask in the sun For:
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| Mazed I enter, exit, always amazed how lost I get; yet, always find my way through life's labyrinth. © Kåre Enga [177.251] (14.oktober.2020) 24 syllables: 5/8/1/7/3 free verse; prompt: labyrinth. For:
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| Lone Elm There's something to be said for napping with a cat on the lap a dog curled at one's feet a cup of tea at fingertips gazing out the window at snowflakes sifting over a bird feeder, blujays, and one lone cardinal. And after stormy gales a blanket of hush, the calm of sunlight over drifted fields, the sky a stunning blue. One can get used to quiet, drama kept at bay by hedgerows that mark the boundaries of fields, of wheat and corn and hay. Everyday, routines become a harmony to the melody of wind rustling dead leaves. Oh, these memories of Lone Elm a place where I've never lived yet long to be. © Kåre Enga [177.250] (13.oktober.2020) |
| Mist shrouds the mountains I Mist shrouds the mountains, the mountains turning white; deep in dark valleys old pines discuss the sight. Fires quelled in autumn yet embers warm their feet; hearts reduced to ash beneath the pall still beat. II You stand there looking up at me and wondering out loud how you could climb my mountain so hesitant — so cowed. But I will surely thunder back beneath my thinning crest that lessons of my youth still glow to guide you on your quest. © Copyright Kåre Enga [177.249] (13.oktober.2020) For:
16 lines 4 quatrains with xaxa rhyme divided into two parts. The first is based on more concrete images and has a syllabic pattern of 5/6/5/6. The second is more 'personal' and has a 8/6/8/6 pattern. |
| Whey, what's a tuffet? Mizz Muffet's Big Orange Boo so tar'd of curd, but verry hungry too, eyed ma little bird. Along came Dawg ta save the day (ta wrestle Muffet's cat)! I didna see wut came next. Nuthin's left but 'is 'at. © Kåre Enga [177.248] (13.oktober.2020) For: "Monsters Under The Bed - CLOSED"  Based on: Once I Saw a Little Bird By: Walter Crane in 1874 Once I saw a little bird Come hop, hop, hop; So I cried, “Little bird, Will you stop, stop, stop?” And was going to the window To say, “How do you do?” But he shook his little tail, And far away he flew. Rules: 1. Keep the little bird in your poem. 2. Maintain the syllable count 7465 8676 3. Maintain the rhyme scheme abab cded 4, Put your own dark twist on the poem. Your version can be mysterious, dark, or horror. A standard speech version: Miss Muffet's Big Orange Boo so tired of curd, but very hungry too, eyed my little bird. Along came Dawg to save the day! (to wrestle Muffet's cat.) I didn't see what came next. Nothing's left but his hat. |
| Useful still The rusty hoe, a scored dish — why keep on serving — when this patina of age has ravaged our use? © Kåre Enga [177.245] (10.oktober.2020) 24σ free verse: 7/5/7/5. Prompt: patina (a fine coating of oxide on the surface of a metal) used metaphorically. For
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Lake Eerie November winds howl, lifting cold waters over cold shores till snow flurries in an eerie white hush. © Kåre Enga [177.240] (6.oktober.2020) 24 syllable free verse: 5/5/4/4/6 For:
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