Tjue Åtte

Today the city of Oslo had a rose and candle procession through the city, and my friends and I went. So did a lot of other people. 150,000 other people to be exact. I'd never been in a crowd that big, but there was something sincerely moving about the population of Oslo marching from City Hall to Oslo Domkirke holding roses in the air. Oslo has gone out of shock and into mourning, but not reproach and anguish. People are banding together. The last quote is a now famous quote by one of the survivors of the shootings at Utøyen, and I think it fits the general opinion of the citizens very well.

We are the city! We enter,
We pulse through the streets
Like blood. Its heart beats
As we march through the center.
“Ja, vi elsker dette landet!” is implied.
No one sings it but you can hear.
Everyone to everyone is dear,
As one voiced had cried,
“If one man can create that much hate,
Imagine how much love we as a togetherness can create.”

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

26 and 27

The first poem is a poem I wrote in my journal as part of my seasonal hand-written poem exercise. I usually give trees a very bad rap in some of my poems, but I found something redeeming about them as I drove past them in the forest. They may only give an illusion of strength, but sometimes anything is good enough.

The second poem I wrote upon returning to Oslo this weekend. People are still in shock, but the city is very quiet. No students are outside, people are quiet at dinner. I don't sense despair here.


7/23

Save me, trees! I cry
You are more fortunate than I!

How you stand, foreboding
In endless array. How you stand
Forever, keeping hold of the land.
How you stand unafraid in the dark.
Never telling if you are imploding.
Never telling save your bark.

I’ve hated you for having no soul.

But you sure have this all under control.

7/24

I have seen the sky
In tears. I have seen
The clouds scream vengeance
For the loss of May.

Yet it is quiet today,
Lost the urge to cry.
Lost urge for a sentence.
Lost of all clean.

Careful how we tread,
Fragile little head.


Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

A terrible half-way point

As you may or may not have already heard, there were twin bomb attacks in Oslo this afternoon. A bomb went off at the city center about 5 km from campus, and I actually heard it and thought it was thunder. Later in the afternoon, there was a shooting at a youth camp for the Labour Party in an island. All in all, I've heard of 18 casualties. I was almost not going to write a poem, but I decided I had to capture what I felt when I walked outside shortly after hearing. Everyone and everything was so fragile. I will also be out of the city this weekend, so I'll be posting twice on Sunday again.

rolling quiet
just static of
shock a scream
couldnt pass through
the air is too brittle

no birds
but ashes
no weeping rain
but smoke hangs
too bleak for rain or birds

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

24

It's my half birthday today, so I decided to be all punny and transfer it into a poem. So I did that. This poem is just the first half of all the words of the poem. Is the meaning lost on you? Well, it should be. Don't worry; I'll post the whole words so you can actually read the poem too.

Moral: The entirety of things is generally necessary to understand them.

Wh nee th seco se o scre?
Do no on a pa ev matt?
Is it no go th so thi on shat?
Sin wh mu w pai ent sce?
Ca we no sti ded wh i mea?

An ye, thi shou b se an hea.
Wh i ha a exper t m?
Fu i ho i al sho b.
Yo ma fi th man abs.
D no wor, i i ju ha a wo.


Who needs that second set of screens?
Does not only a part ever matter?
Is it not good that some things only shatter?
Since when must we paint entire scenes?
Can we not still deduce what it means?

And yet, things should be seen and heard.
What is half an experience to me?
Full is how it all should be.
You may find this manner absurd.
Do not worry, it is just half a word.

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

23 I guess?

I miss doing more lighthearted stuff. This was from an incident that happened today after we had dinner in Oslo. We were getting on the T Bane, or Oslo's metro subway system, and while two of my friends made it, my two other friends and I were behind them and the doors closed on us literally, snapping my friend's sunglasses literally in half. It was crazy and rather hilarious. This recounts the incident.

Moral: nothing is free. Not even when you have a month pass to the entire public transportation system in Oslo.

The dinner deep in our gut,
We ran on the platform. Our climb
Was too slow. The doors violently shut
On sunglasses and broke them somewhat.
The T Bane sure likes things on time.

Perhaps the trade was not so fair.
Offerings can be rather sundry.
The metro door had taken its share
For transporting us everywhere.
But I guess we were all hungry.


Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

Double poem

So we're reading A Doll's House by Ibsen in my literature class, a play I wasn't familiar with. I enjoyed and decided to write this poem about Nora, the doll in her husband's house who asserts her freedom. So yeah. If you haven't read it, sorry, but if you have, here you go. This one doesn't really have a moral either. I didn't have one in mind; I just wanted to describe Nora.

A doll, maniacal
Dancing, they clapped
As you did your track.
But beyond the brass
You saw your liberty.

The wires snapped
On your back.
You held your mass
Like an uprooted tree,
Like virgin wool.

Do you lack
What would pass
For apathy,
Or a meager pull
To adapt?

Break the glass,
Break from me.
But careful,
You are so apt
To crack.

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

Inconsistency is my middle name

Or at least it should be. No poem today again. I'll do double duty tomorrow I PROMISE.
On the bright side, this time I'm warning you guys