Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
Sentinel Marked as if you own me I bow before the Bitterroots and just like you my rocky soil, my withered grass lays prey to the empty sky. © Kåre Enga 2007 "Sentinel" ![]() ![]() Reader's Choice of Poems: "Sentinel" ![]() "In Lagada, la vita" ![]() "Between us" ![]() "I, Katrina" ![]() "Plain cover jacket" ![]() Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" ![]() "Death of Jeannie New Moon" ![]() "Winter: 18 Mas'il (December 29)" ![]() "Even in chaos ... More hockey poems." ![]() "Holy day. Autumn in November. A mole." ![]() "ENFP, what are you?" ![]() FACES ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() PLACES ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Kåre ![]() ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
Not-so-kinder eggs I was fired by DOGE and y'know about the price of eggs so I snuck my 3 kids into the White House egg hunt. They collected 9 eggs. I was hoping for a dozen. *sigh* Anyhoo, they each were painted, with pretty ribbons and a message. What did they say! Well... ![]() ![]() I had to stop to breathe. My job was in enforcement. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() At this point I has hoping no one had seen me, hoping they'd forgotten my face. ![]() I started to laugh and cried out, I wish! ![]() ![]() I took photos, then threw out the ribbons, put the messages around a staked voodoo doll, and burned them all. And the eggs? I never waste eggs — too expensive. I peeled them — carefully (hoping they weren't coated with poison or injected with venom), then cut them in two, removed the yeller yolks and placed them on my dead grandmother's platter hoping she wasn't spinning in her grave. Who came? Well Big Balls showed up offering to help; but, I'd already put my knives away. How did you serve them? Deviled. wc ~292 |
Black feathers The Old Crow alighted on the rocks and spoke to us. "There's more to the color green than money, more fragrance in flowers than a pile of filthy old bills you exchange for rust-bucket toys. The sound of a babbling brook is musical in more ways than words of hate and vengeance ever will be. We listened in silence. Crows remember, and aren't beyond retaliation themselves. Silence seemed safer. "You say nothing and do less. Neither acquiescence nor apathy will save you." The wind picked up in hopes of ruffling our feathers. We wrapped our ignorance tighter around us to protect us from the storm that was surely coming. "You arise from dust and return as such but forget to stay grounded while alive. You will die soon enough." We shifted sore butts in hope... "There is no hope in avoiding suffering, only the courage to accept and let go." We stared at the gathering clouds. "You cannot wish away the rain without condemning others to a flood, nor wish for sun without starvation and drought." It was as if our thoughts were being read. "I'm not a mind-reader; but, I have countless seasons of experience. I've also listened to the wisdom of generations of my kind. We hold onto knowledge in our collective memory." Old Crow arose and stood before us, giving each one a black feather as the storm broke in a rush of wind and hail, leaving us with but a word. "Remember." © Kåre Enga (8.april.2025) [182.18] ~250 wc |
Won Hook with: "Round 21 " ![]() "I look like you. I speak like you. I'm not you." "How do you know?" AiX looked around the room of centuplets. "My barcode is different from yours." 65.504 |