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 |
The Moon must be fed Caught in a web of filigreed desire, the husk of an airplane, suspended in time, waits for the ghost of the Moon to wax when the ripened feast will be consumed, leaving only an empty hull to rust among the myths of long-lost flights that never will be found. No one ever questions the Moon. The Moon now full, isn't talking. © Kåre Enga (13.junio.2017) [174.134] /30:13.2 / |
O sunlit child of darkened skies, how you try to swing above the gloom! Break loose your bonds and learn to fly or seek your doom. Old ropes won't hold. They fray, and severed won't hold you fast. I do not lie! Let go and join the clouds forever or quickly die. O sunlit child of gloomy skies Beyond the storms lie sunny climes. Break loose from ropes and learn to fly o'er better times. © Kåre Enga (12.giugno.2017) [174.133] /30:12.2/ |
Romeo's dilemma What light through yonder keyhole breaks. 'Tis dawn or lamp that lit must mean— my restless love's awake! Thy door stands shut. I'll never know unless I find the key—or dare— to peek through yonder hole. © Kåre Enga (12.giugno.2017) [174.132] /30:12.1/ |