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 |
What lingers What could not be said lay between us long suffering moans reluctant death blurred boundary of reality created of its own fantasy more smoke than fire, like a promise of water that did not quench our thirst. For years it hung like a veil between us then like the mists of time... faded with regrets. © Kåre Enga (20.aprille.2017) [174.44] For Dew Drop Inn #20 - what lingers |
In Beara On soft mornings when vanished water reappears dividing a landscape by brook and bracken, harsh to the touch, softened by mist and always ready to turn your ankle... Beware! You'll fall for it: golden gorse and pink heather, stoned coffins lined with moss, starving for your flesh. © Kåre Enga (20.abril.2017) [174. 43] Beara, County Kerry/Cork, Ireland. Written while listening to Leanne O'Sullivan at Fact & Fiction. |
Aleppo Thousands of years to raise these walls, these bombed out walls. How many centuries to rebuild them? Will we care to rebuild them. What ties severed will be re-tied or never rejoined in other lands where our ways will fade into foreign tapestries, mere threads among the millions. Here or there, we will survive, but our land, our walls, our way of life will vanish. © Kåre Enga (20.april.2017) [174.42] Earlier version Aleppo A thousand years to raise these walls, these bombed out walls. How many centuries to rebuild them? Will we care to rebuild them. What ties severed will be re-tied or never rejoined in other lands where our ways will fade into foreign tapestries, one mere thread among the millions. Here or there, we will survive, but our land, our walls, our way of life will vanish. © Kåre Enga (20.april.2017) [174.42] Dew Drop Inn #24: starting over 80.772 |
Twinflower Five pendulous lobes each hang in pairs. Our pistils pregnant as leaves expectant celebrate new specks of being. So tiny. Smaller even than our pink corollas that begged the bee to visit, sip sweet nectar, leave a grain of pollen to spark new life. Oh how simple things provide such wonder; how joyous to be alive. © Kåre Enga (20.april.2017) [174.41] (Dew Drop Inn prompt #22) The flower of Linnaea borealis is the provincial flower of Småland, the home province of Linnaeus (and where my Swedish roots were born). |
Inner sinkholes Holes within me widen; synapses of raw nerves now rot. What was certain land dissolves to quicksand. What was once transparent now is not. Opaque senses invade my being; thoughts evade, just mere abstractions. Poorly poured concrete crumbles; my home, a bed of soil and weeds, awaits me. Mere blush remains where pastel landscapes lost their color. In this place of near horizons, I celebrate each emptiness, hoping you will deign to fill it. © Kåre Enga (20.abril.2017) [174.40] Well... not quite sure where this is going! But... by posting I can edit at will. 80.765 |