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 |
Rain washes away my brain The paint blisters above our heads; the plaster bubbles. While roosters crow and we're in bed; crows roost in rubble. There's no morels in this story, no thyme, no season. Neither funny, sad nor gory, rash rhyme, no reason. Kåre Enga [180.25] (10.mai.2023) 8 lines: 8/5 ๆ ab/ab/cd/cd |
Moon over Lithuania My grumpy face comes natural. It's not that I'm unhappy. It's those dang cats howling again, then hissing at each other. My nose beams in balance with Earth, the Void, and a thousand stars. What you see is who I am; yet, Ying and Yang sing who they are. Kåre Enga [180.24] (10.mai.2023) 8 lines: 8/7 ๆ |
Deep. As in bottomless. As in never-ending nightmares. As in looking into your eyes and drowning. Deeper. Deeper still. Until gasping I resurface devoid of all fear. Then waking, shaking, making the bed we share, imagining it's full of air. |