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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/item_id/982524-Laura-del-Campo
Rated: 13+ · Book · Personal · #982524
Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation.
*Smile*          *Bigsmile*          *Yawn*

L'aura del campo


'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos'
♣ Federico García Lorca ♣


Higgins Street Bridge, April 25th  2009, Missoula, Montana


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*Flower2*V*Flower2* COMMENTS!

On a practical note, in answer to your questions:

Gifts from NOVAcatmando Author Icon kiyasama alfred booth, wanbli ska Author Icon ransomme Iowegian Skye Author Icon

Merit Badge in Reviewing
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For your support and suggestions on my haiku "Lone Poinsettia" which took second place in the contest and will be published.  Thanks for helping make it a winning poem! Merit Badge in Nano Winner
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CONGRATULATIONS on your achievement! *^*Bigsmile*^* Merit Badge in Reviewing
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For help finding a title for my first chapbook.  We're not there yet, but your ideas are always interesting.
Merit Badge in Funny
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Merit Badge in Friendship
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Thanks for being my friend.

Hugz! 

grannym Merit Badge in Appreciation
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For brightening my day with your delightful offerings ~ Thank you so much! *^*Heart*^*


IN MEMORIUM

VerySara Author Icon

passed away November 12, 2005

Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings.
More suggested links:

Wheat fields along Route 56 in SW Kansas, July 2004.
These pictures rotate.



 Kåre *Leaf5* Enga
~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go.
~ Elizabeth Bishop,
The Fish
Previous ... -1- 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 ... Next
November 3, 2024 at 3:44pm
November 3, 2024 at 3:44pm
#1079450
There comes a softening to the brain...

...and to the memories stored —
most forgotten, the painful lost,
a blessing time to bid goodbye,
let go, move on, become as one.

...for there were sunflowers —
and an old windmill,
it's blades still churning,
faces forever turning to the sun.

© Kåre Enga (3.november.2024)
October 20, 2024 at 4:51pm
October 20, 2024 at 4:51pm
#1078638
Remains of the weekend

Remains of the weekend
a four hour bus ride
spent in tears kept to myself
leaking like the lies I told
to try to fit in.
Now fifty years older
and still tearful;
I never fit in.
But I still remember that Monday,
standing out of body
behind myself
then smoking Derbys
as if that could lessen the pain
in that land of personal strife,
now only memories,
the remains of my life

© Kåre Enga (20.octubre.2024)
October 15, 2024 at 9:28pm
October 15, 2024 at 9:28pm
#1078376

Dull knife of a long life

I can't die young; 4
that bridge to immortality 8
was crossed so long ago, that when I look back, 11
the beginning's shrouded, 6
by what's been long forgotten, faded 9
memories of what never was, 7
fog that seldom lifts. 5 [50s]

The sharp knife of youth has lost its edge, 9
no longer cleanly cuts, 6
no longer severs what ought to be let go to have been abandoned, 13
bruises and the bruises fester; 8
better to have lived fast and died young. 9 [total 45s]

I was never wild, 5
never lived life to its fullest utmost, 8
never learned to loveembrace the precipice, 10
that mortal edge; instead, 6
I've endured the dull knife of a long life 10
as each choice came with its own price. 8
When will I learn to let go.
7 [total 54s]

© Kåre Enga (15.oktober.2024)

19 lines

Inspired by Lyn and

October 9, 2024 at 9:40pm
October 9, 2024 at 9:40pm
#1078020
Paved with gold

... but no one cares... no angels here.

The roads leading to Hell are empty; but,
the bars are full.

Sad stories of shame or blame, but —
never taking into account

that in every story, they —
were the one who was always there.

Center of Creation.
Maelstrom of Destruction.

The Roads to Hell are paved with gold; but,
nobody's sober enough to care.


© Kåre Enga 2024 (9.oktober.2024) [181]

10 lines

Inspired by
FORUM
Poets' Practice Pad Open in new Window. (18+)
Write poetry from prompts just for the fun of it; formal or free verse, you pick.
#1013410 by Joy Author IconMail Icon


#48

116.227
September 30, 2024 at 10:44pm
September 30, 2024 at 10:44pm
#1077528
I want
to be happy
know the warmth of someone
who loves but does not suffocate
my spirit, my freedom,
who'll let me go,
let me

breathe

until
we become one
with stars again, become
dust transversing the universe,
commingling into mud
to fill the void
with bird-

song;

unless,
we're out of tune,
put existence at risk;
best then to go our separate ways,
forget the longing, lust,
now pitiful,
perish.

© Kåre Enga (30.september.2024)

22 lines

115.993
September 17, 2024 at 11:20pm
September 17, 2024 at 11:20pm
#1076930
Second Spring

Late summer's dark forest green
shifts to yellow as time recedes
then back again green on green

as spring rains bring a cooling breeze
and temperatures drop day by day
as wild creatures go back to sleep,

I feel life's joy before wind's blast
feel the flowers share their fragrance,
feel your warm embrace again...

as all rejoice with gentle sunshine,
the gentle rain, the gentler mist,
return to a time before the melt

when frozen we were encased in ice
before the heat of our kiss.


© Kåre Enga (17.september.2024)


115.360
September 16, 2024 at 1:18am
September 16, 2024 at 1:18am
#1076862
End of summer

When the goldenrod blooms
and our swollen tears fall,

footballs fly though cool air.
Do not fumble or fall.

When Edith Piaf warbles
and autumn leaves fall,

stiff aching legs give out
as we stumble and fall.

With crisp air and frost,
burning leaves signal it's fall,

and then pumpkins are carved,
their wide grins mouthing "fall".

At the end of summer
comes the harvest of fall.

Before the sleep of winter
we're glad that it's fall.


© Kåre Enga (16.September.2024)

16 lines

115.248
September 15, 2024 at 7:35pm
September 15, 2024 at 7:35pm
#1076850
potato cakes


the day glooms over the mountains
grey skies part for a moment
cold rains hold off

it's the season of mourning
that time between summer and winter
time to rest or nap

or cook too many potato cakes
what will i eat come morning?
more potato cakes

I lie down but chatter in the hallway
summons me to open the door
i stay in bed snug and safe

except from nightmares
those bastard cousins of dreams
i drift i sleep i wake

safe to say it's time for coffee
time to open eyes to the day
time for rain

and a potato cake with carrots
and a potato cake with cheese on top
snug in a bun

i will read today i promise
promise i will write something new
finish what i've written

then go to market
to buy some bread and whatever's cheap
but not potatoes

unless they're on sale
and my back doesn't ache
and it doesn't rain

© Kåre Enga (14.september.2024)

30 lines

115.244
September 13, 2024 at 4:56pm
September 13, 2024 at 4:56pm
#1076757
A poem about bald cypress:

Knees of the trees, a fountain, a rainbow, Muscogee, OK in 2004.

My knees

My knees breathe above the muck.
My arms shelter placid waters,
that thin emerald sheen of life
protecting hidden depths below.

My needles fall come October,
blanket all with rust and gold.
An autumn quilt of warmth and color.
I am old. This swamp is older.

© Copyright 2024 Kåre Enga (13.september.2024)

115.162
September 6, 2024 at 9:31pm
September 6, 2024 at 9:31pm
#1076381
In the garden of my thoughts

Flitting here and there,
a rainbow glanced from corners of the eye,
I am a hummingbird, an enigma —
gone in a flash.

And I am a worm,
just trying to get from one side of the sidewalk
to the other.
A slug, a snail, a sloth.

I'm the northern twilight
taking it easy,
reluctant to fade forever,
lingering in your thoughts.

Like the scarlet pimpernel,
waiting to be plucked,
too shy, too insignificant to toot its horn,
will I wait until I wither?

But — sometimes I'm fragrant,
a night-blooming cactus,
beckoning — come hither
to each and every moth.

© 2024 Kåre Enga (6.september.2024)

20 lines

114.755

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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/item_id/982524-Laura-del-Campo