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Rated: 13+ · Book · Personal · #982524
Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation.
*Delight*          *Smirk*          *Wink*

L'aura del campo

'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos'
♣ Federico García Lorca ♣


Higgins Street Bridge, April 25th 2009, Missoula, Montana


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*Flower2*V*Flower2* COMMENTS!

On a practical note, in answer to your questions:

Gifts from NOVAcatmando Author Icon kiyasama alfred booth, wanbli ska Author Icon ransomme Iowegian Skye Author Icon

Merit Badge in Reviewing [Click For More Info] For your support and suggestions on my haiku "Lone Poinsettia" which took second place in the contest and will be published. Thanks for helping make it a winning poem! Merit Badge in Nano Winner [Click For More Info] CONGRATULATIONS on your achievement! *^*Bigsmile*^* Merit Badge in Reviewing [Click For More Info] For help finding a title for my first chapbook. We're not there yet, but your ideas are always interesting.
Merit Badge in Funny [Click For More Info] Merit Badge in Friendship [Click For More Info] Thanks for being my friend. Hugz! grannym Merit Badge in Appreciation [Click For More Info] For brightening my day with your delightful offerings ~ Thank you so much! *^*Heart*^*


IN MEMORIUM

VerySara Author Icon

passed away November 12, 2005

Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings.
More suggested links:

Along Route 56 in Southwest Kansas, July 2004.
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 Kåre *Leaf5* Enga
~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go.
~ Elizabeth Bishop,
The Fish
April 29, 2020 at 11:11pm
April 29, 2020 at 11:11pm
#982357
...our nerves are wound back to the breaking,
ears strained for the ghost of a wrong note.

From "Drum Beat: The Eleventh Night", a poem of Northern Ireland (1973) by Rosemary Canavan.

Mutiny

Our troubles started before Twenty-Twenty
but vision became blurred by constant lies;
hindsight sees so much more clearly.

As drumming of incessant nonsense
drowned out voices of reason, seldom
reached those who nurtured a conscience.

For there was enough blame to shame a nation,
enough hatred to hurry the end of our nation
as Our Dear Leader bowed to ovations.

What went wrong and when we asked ourselves.
We got fingers wagging, pointing. We might
as well have asked that damn elf on the shelf.

Now what will we do. Abandon ship, pink slips
in fists, ready to pummel those in our way?
Or will we look in the mirror and get a grip

and will we stand in lines to cast our vote.
... our nerves ... wound back to the breaking,
ears strained for the ghost of a wrong note.

KE [177.57] (29.april.2020)


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