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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 |
| Lily Lily lies in Lila's parlor dead as flies in yonder corner where she once hid in her fear now she knows no pain, my dear My dearest Lily flower of spring gone before the heat of summer. gone before the blush of youth was tarnished gone before she withered. © Kåre Enga 2024 (29.august.2024) 10 lines |
| Go back to sleep, dear Zombie Early to bed early to rise... means that you're not dead... yet; but, you will be if you're not wise and dare to bet that I'm forgiving, that I'll forget come Thanksgiving, and not chop off your head as you leave the Land of the Living on you way to ... instead of those Pearly Gates with you name engraved in lead on your headstone, too late to fall down on your knees to admit you made a mistake and woke up a Zombie, too late to yell stop! or cry please, please, please. But, it's never too early to let me drop, go back to sleep to dream of lollipops and unicorns that weep instead of that surprise that woke up the dead, you creep! © Kåre Enga 2024 (30.august.2024) 24 lines Rolling rhyme: abab cbcd cded efef gfgh ghah For August 2024 Theme 1 "early to bed, early to rise" "Merit Badge Magic"  |
| Jacques in his pulpit In your negritude, black embraced, embellished with streaks of emerald, ivory, aquamarine and rose, full-throated cry to survive the bogs, those dark places of oppression, relegated to flies and gators. Shadow-nurtured, arising from dark rich earth, come here, come here, to the unquenched hunger of the swamp. Come here. I too am hungry. © Kåre Enga 2024 (9.august.2024) 15 lines, free verse. Based on painting by George O'Keefe, "Jack-in-the-pulpit" |
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