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 |
16 small funerals There was that aroma enticing us, our stomachs empty, eyes filled with the sight of cheese till the snap, blood oozing from crushed flesh. We fled, shivered in our dens, hid until hungry we ventured forth again, when black whiskers made us scream, Mercy! No mercy for us. We were a crew. We were young. We entered this world eyes wide open. Now we disappear, eyes shut, one by one. © Kåre Enga (27.mai.2017) [174.103] Inspired by Parris Ja Young. |
To Narcissus When we look in a mirror, who do we see? You see a god. I see me. © Kåre Enga (27.mayo.2017) [174.105] |