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 |
King of Hearts Ruth looked at the cards spread on the table, knew they offered no hope, no wisdom guiding me through my dilemmas. And no money, past, present, future. The King of Hearts sat at the center begging me to hold on, to be patient. For there was no love this side of the horizon, but someday... someday I'd learn to let go, get a grip on my senses, let someone climb over my fences, let someone love me, allow myself to love them in return © Kåre Enga [182.] (31.mai.2025) 12 lines Notes: Prompt was "Desperado" My tarot card is the King of Hearts: no fame, no money, no conquest. Based on a real tarot card reading... years ago. 124.466 |
On a Dark Red Day for Mark Looking up at the ceiling An eclipse of the lamp light my right hand moving left to block out the day I stay back to the bed my future looming above me the glooming of Sunday a lighter shade of Hell that can wait till tomorrow or overmorrow or until the left hand transverses the pillow to beg the waning of the night to block the waxing of the new day © Kåre Enga [182.] 18.mai.2025 14 lines 123.798 |
Strings of pearls And I'm clutching my string of pearls, trying not to slip when the blind man offers his arm to guide me up the icy steps. His shoes grip the ice as if we were walking on sunshine at the beach. There are no trumpets to declare our triumph, no band to greet us at the top. We climb one careful step at a time. Me eying the future; his blindness grounded in the present, the ice glistening like a string of mini-pearls. © Kåre Enga [182.] (31.mai.2025) 10 lines For "Spider Web" ![]() Dreamed about Ray Charles last night And he could see just fine, you know I asked him for a lullaby He said, "Honey, I don't sing no more" No more, no more, no more Ray don't sing no more He said, "Since I got my eyesight back, My voice has just deserted me. No 'Georgia on my mind' no more... I stay in bed with MTV" Then Ray took his glasses off And I could look inside his head Flashing like a thunderstorm I saw a shining spider web |