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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 ![]() ![]() 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 ![]() ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
Make up your mind, Spot! channeling Lady Macbeth The knife goes in; the blood squirts out. It takes time, like chopping up sprouts. Speaking of which, Out, out, damn Spot! Can't concentrate when I'm barked at. Pork needs to be cured, chickens plucked. What now, Spot? In or out? Oh, f***. Spilled duck blood. No, you can't have some. Add raisins to sweeten the plot. Watch it simmer; don't get distracted. Billy-boy sucked got it all wrong. I'd wring his scrawny neck but... Spot! Make up your mind! I'm not a monster, just misunderstood; I sent Cook this morning, back to Da Hood. I told him guests were due to arrive; and, Out, Spot, Out! I needed fresh chives. © Kåre Enga (7.april.2025) [182.17] 16-20 lines |