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 LV 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 |
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
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