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 |    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 L  V 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 day old bread— when soaked in milk and eggs. ...to raisins graced by rum— then mixed and oven baked— when placed in bowls or plates— to disappear. © Kåre Enga [171.L1] There comes a softening... ...to cleaned starched sheets— as the sweat of living seeps into their pores— as nightmares toss and turn or weep— as dreams clutch, release their inner ichor. © Kåre Enga [171.L2] There comes a softening... ...when Time crawls— and depression finds expression in inanities. Hard Facts? Hard Truths? Without Time— there remains this muddying. © Kåre Enga [171.L3] There comes a softening... ...to the arm that stiff from working —dusk till dawn— soaks up the lotion, and— ...to the feet that wearied rest— immobile in a bucket full of steam. © Kåre Enga 11.January.2015. [171.L4] |
| There comes a softening... ...to the void when pierced by cries of unborn souls waiting to be sent to new birthed worlds to fill their emptiness— assuage their pain. © Kåre Enga [171.M1] There comes a softening... ...of the flame when exhausted embers banked—now tamed— gnaw at wood with every breath before they sleep— awake— then sleep again. © Kåre Enga [171.M2] There comes a softening... ...to verbs when mollified—mellow then temper, relax knead and squash— when liquefied— from what once was hardened— all action now flaccid, flabby, limp. © Kåre Enga [171.M3] There comes a softening... ...to marble statues when acid rain erodes with tears—what millennia held off. ...and to your torso —taut upon our bed— when my flesh gently cuddles it. © Kåre Enga [171.M4] |
| Miso music Silence the surround sound of syllables I can't perceive a cadence all its own like motes dancing in sunbeams or crackers swirling in soup filling miso music beyond words ecstasy beyond the need to name it. © Kåre Enga 4.januar.2015 Note: The title is tentative. Could use a better one someday. |
| There comes a softening... ...to ice cream treats on Summer Sundays (sweat from heat) melting into blouses splashing onto shorts, dropping to the pavement drip by drip the sticky fingers licked by the neighbor's dog. © Kåre Enga [171.N1] There comes a softening... ...to the neeps when steamed or roasted, heaped upon my plate, completes the feast of Sunday's Yorkshire pudding. © Kåre Enga [171.N2] There comes a softening... ...to politics when two opponents rest and chat about their family battles, won or lost, and how no matter what was planned or plotted the war surprised and life went on —or not. © Kåre Enga [171.N3] There comes a softening... ...to rubber bands when old and stretched before they snap —worn out. and to knees that once climbed oaks when willed to stoop —no longer bend. © Kåre Enga [171.N4] Note not sure whether ... or — is better. 78,757 |
| There comes a softening... ...of the cock who cockadoodledoo-ed at dawn when after sex the lust is lost and to the hills when starlight fades and folks arise from empty beds. © Kåre Enga [171.Ñ1] There comes a softening... ...to dull stones when waters wash away the grit, revealing polished gems and to the gems when time like water wears all away to nothingness. © Kåre Enga [171.Ñ2] There comes a softening... ...to a bruise when purple fades to yellow but not to the jaded heart-of-stone when traumatized, betrayed, as flesh may heal but hurt remains. © Kåre Enga [171.Ñ3] There comes a softening... ...to mixed nuts when gnawed and gnashed by hungry teeth each drop of oil hoarded by thin flesh holding off starvation's reach, harsh reek of Winter's breath. © Kåre Enga [171.Ñ4] |
| There comes a softening... ...to the rod when father raises welts then weeps remembering his own unhealed wounds. © Kåre Enga [171.O1] There comes a softening... ...to hard floors when blue mats cover concrete a resting place for the dead, walls remaining hard to separate the barely living. © Kåre Enga [171.O2] There comes a softening... ...to screeching strings. when mellow cello begs viola to join and sing those alto notes while testy violins keep silent and bass bows soft, plucks pianissimo a deep throat vibrating as cello rises then recedes in a bow to the patient violins. © Kåre Enga [171.O3] There comes a softening... ...to camel's back when thirst has hollowed hump or when a single straw has broken it as once treasured burdens spill like scattered grains of sand. © Kåre Enga [171.O4] |
| There comes a softening... ...by river's edge when willows green and rushes glow to cover winter's scars amidst Spring's flood that wends and mends. © Kåre Enga [171.P1] 13.November.2014 There comes a softening... ...to father's belt when slapped against the butt that brings forth cries but fails to bruise the inner steel of being. © Kåre Enga [171.P2] 13.November.2014 There comes a softening... ...to wings encased in ice when comes untimely melt in early Spring when all dissolves to muck. Yet prayers have wings that once released from tight pursed lips give such a joy like a chrysalis opening in Summer to a gentle breeze that lifts frail wings. © Kåre Enga [171.P3] 20.December.2014 There comes a softening... ...to a fortress when moats are filled and walls dismantled to be recycled for a town that grows beyond tamed fields to wilderness where once the Vandals roamed where once upon a time we believed in fairy tales now covered asphalt parking lots and monstrous discount stores. © Kåre Enga [171.P4] 21.December.2014 |
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). That said, use what the Muse gifts.