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 |
This life Woven from threads of unraveled hand-me-downs: my father's smile, my mother's will; this became my tapestry of weep and frolic. Dirtied in the backyard garden, washed and pressed to go to school, learning that my new clothes mattered more than what I wore inside, my tapestry turned outside in. And so I wore it many years, the warp turned upside down, until the weft demanded justice, that smiles replace my frowns. I took it off to turn it inside in. Now worn until bare threads are noticed, broken strands that never mend, still held together by a will that will not quit... not quite the end of giving warmth to strong-willed bones, my smile a comfort to my friends. © Kåre Enga [174.15] (5.april.2017) Dew Drop Inn prompt #5: unfinished 80,616 |
[untitled political limerick] When Oligarchs offered gold buckets, Don slathered orange hair-gel and plucked it. As Congress dithered and Media blithered, America cried out, "MOTHER-f***-IT!" © Kåre Enga [174.15] (5.апрель.2017) |
Father Coleus prays. Mother Rosa listens. love-in-a-mist © Kåre Enga [174.14] (4.abril.2017) 80.614 |