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 |
"That Book?" Yeah, the one that tells lies about me. That only shows one side of the conversation. That misquotes me, misunderstands me, makes me the Bad Guy. There was no problem before you wrote it. There'll be none after... |
we approach. we flee. carefully. rubber bands bring closure—cause pain. karma's some awesome boomerang! band-aids protect. but attachment kills. "let's go." "LET GO." they warn but do not know. when two become one—that's a no-show. |
March on? Even birds fly listless and clothes barely wave at the morning. Nothing runs quickly through this smoky heat except for fire and anger. Both need a shower. So, I'd give him a kiss; but, why wake Sleeping Beauty? |
Double lines divide our highway. You stay on your side. I stay on mine. We'll both be happier. But Life laughs. Lines wiggle. You wag a finger then cross the line. Yes, hate resembles love. Yes, I loved you once. |
Festival after festival. Orange celebrates our city. Red ushers in the Lunar New Year. What color is the sky if not Blue? Grey, smoky today. We thirst. May it all turn Black with bolts of lightning. May rains come. |
24.กุมภาพันธ์.2566. Inspired by a scene in "My School President". When rains fall When rains fall as they must fall every winter will you let me cry alone or offer your umbrella. Will tear-drops I shed mean nothing, as my words have always meant nothing, or will rain-songs wash away pain and this dust of summer. Beyond shimmers of doubt will healing-harmonies join in. © Copyright 2023 Kåre Enga [179.143] (24.februar.2023) |
Either way When Death comes calling I will smile hand outstretched to walk awhile and then — oblivion; but, if perchance I wake once more may Life come joyful to my door I'll gladly — make amends. Notes ▼ |
Branches raised bare fingers to thirsty skies as blossoms burst to outshine Death. They fell like golden raindrops to adorn the dust. Nothing living could compare. No topaz dared. To Ngalis their message was clear. Leave now or join them. |
It sleets for thee I think that I shall never hear this poem that I hold most dear or see the raven in a tree, that caws, "if not for them... for thee". And shall I dare repeat, repeat: tomorrow's forecast rains sleet? And do eyes blear before High Tea, like Frost's, forever rest-in-sleep. © Copyright 2023 Kåre Enga [179.137] (27.januar.2023) aa, bb, cc with abc in the last stanza similar to a sestina. ![]() Earlier version: It sleets for thee I think that I shall never hear a poem that I hold most dear or see the raven in a tree, that caws, "if not for thee... for thee". And shall I dare repeat, repeat: tomorrow's forecast rains sleet? Do mine eyes blear before High Tea, like Frost's, forever rest-in-sleep. © Copyright 2023 Kåre Enga [179.136] (27.januar.2023) |
"WE BETTER TALK THIS OVER" by Bob Dylan: But I don't think it's liable to happen Like the sound of one hand clappin'. "Yappin' in the Octopus's Garden" My arms be flappin' My thoughts zappin' You ask "What's happenin'?" My lips be chappin' Cold winds slappin' Winter's what's maddenin'. Come join me nappin' my eight arms wrappin' 'round you, no longer sad. © Copyright 2023 Kåre Enga [179.135] 25.januar.2023 36 words |