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 |
There comes a softening— to the sonnet when feminine rhyme takes over and consonant clusters dissolve to vowels and harsh words bring forth hope— once healed. © Kåre Enga [171.A1] (November 2014) There comes a softening— to iron crosses when time topples their rusty limbs and human symbols return like flesh to nourish earth. © Kåre Enga [171.A2] (November 2014) There comes a softening— to the mic when moistened lips pressed together part in music— as black and white fade to blues. © Kåre Enga [171.B1] (November 2014) There comes a softening— to random clutter once stocked in piles now slouched by doors— their destination oblivion, the dumpster. © Kåre Enga [171.B2] (November 2014) |