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 |
I will survive... will survive... will survive... Oh, how the rain mocks my tears. © Kåre Enga [174.98] (24.mayo.2017) Based on: Mirar la lluvia denuncia a los imitadores del sueños" posted by Christopher Solano on facebook. Could be considered an American Sentence. |
American sentences We pick every tasseling ear of corn—so they will not hear our screams. We cover mouths of rivers—so they don't betray our deepest thoughts. We uproot deep-rooted ancient prairies—to plant our daily distress. We gauge out eyes of fish and potatoes—our hope to give us insight. At night, we court allusive luna-moths—to burn in the candle's light. © Kåre Enga [174.91] (21.may.2017) |