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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 |
| In Sousse-Massa They climb trees. They eat fruit, shit and spit the nuts, that we collect, that we press into argan oil put on your face. Rake the ground then comb your hair. No woman's an atoll when goats must be tended; no man's a reef where women tend to them. Kåre Enga [180.48] (29.mai.2023) 8 lines, ~53 words |
| I would walk away. I would say little. Nothing if I could. Don't want your crumbs. I'm not so dumb. I'm not your chum. Stultify, nullify, justify, petrify. Good guy? Bad guy? Bye-bye! Should I stay? No! Run, run, run. |
| In their worlds of morality, venality, normality, we dare not show exceptionality or illumine their mediocrity. In perfect worlds of better and best we unbelievers forage for crumbs, along with the rest, yet refuse to invest in their insufferable totality. |
| HERE LIES A QUEER after Amanda Gorman That hill we die on will be blood stained with the miscarriage of justice, just us breaking through the silence for those muted by dogmatic bigotry, that gift from generations bound by hatred and fear. Hear us when we say queer. Hear us when we shout queer. Bury us with the epitaph HERE LIES A QUEER. We will clap back from the graveyard. Kåre Enga [180.44] (25.mai.2023) 10 lines free verse "Poet Amanda Gorman spoke out after her poem The Hill We Climb, which she recited at President Joe Biden's presidential inauguration, was removed from an elementary school in Miami-Dade County, Florida." https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/us/author-of-poem-removed-from-florida-school-fir... |
| Write me a political limerick? Sure. Lord Caoimhín O'Lim'rick's quite lucky. Saint Ronnie O'Disney's just duckie. They went to Time's Square where sat in despair, Don Juannie the twice loser suck-me. What about Joe Biden? Joe's not bad, just cheugy. |
| Breakfast's at Eight Spill beans into a bowl, then let them soak. Wash the rice, remove the stones. Chop cilantro, carrots, onions, peppers, add a yolk. Cook when daybreak dawns. Don't eat alone. Invite your family, friends and folk. Puts flesh on bones. Kåre Enga [180.38] (19.mai.2023) |
| Elegy in sepia Gone, all gone to the gutless and greedy, no need to reach out to the wandering sky once roots are wrenched from paradise. Even the color, reduced to stark black and white, now fades to sepia. Kåre Enga [180.37] (19.mai.2023) |
| Adagio in Armargh to the sound of glass breaking Mary Elizabeth sags — slowly — like a Brahm's adagio, tranquil but boring; yet, tinkles like church bells when struck. She's had ten too many children and wants to punch through the glass ceiling — before she's too worn out. She's Thirty-six. A dash of hemlock? A cup of arsenic? As the owner of her future, she'll rise to the top — and give her offspring what their father could not. Kåre Enga [180.35] (18.mai.2023) Note: line 4 is an intentional double entendre |
| The hermaphroditic snails don't care whether they slime through the Motherland or Fatherland. They just wave their eye-stalks, carry their home on their backs, search for one another to share a moment, look for somewhere to safely raise their brats. |
| She would grate carrots, julienne jujubes, gently braise two parrots, plonk them into a pot. We were grateful when she moved on. We arranged a wake, set before her portrait an offering of burnt toast, fermented herring and rotted cheese. |
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