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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/982524-Laura-del-Campo/month/11-1-2014
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Rated: 13+ · Book · Personal · #982524
Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation.
*Smile*          *Rolleyes*          *Wink*

L'aura del campo

'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos'
♣ Federico García Lorca ♣


Higgins Street Bridge, April 25th 2009, Missoula, Montana


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*Flower2*V*Flower2* COMMENTS!

On a practical note, in answer to your questions:

Gifts from NOVAcatmando kiyasama alfred booth, wanbli ska ransomme Iowegian Skye

Merit Badge in Reviewing [Click For More Info] For your support and suggestions on my haiku "Lone Poinsettia" which took second place in the contest and will be published. Thanks for helping make it a winning poem! Merit Badge in Nano Winner [Click For More Info] CONGRATULATIONS on your achievement! *^*Bigsmile*^* Merit Badge in Reviewing [Click For More Info] For help finding a title for my first chapbook. We're not there yet, but your ideas are always interesting.
Merit Badge in Funny [Click For More Info] Merit Badge in Friendship [Click For More Info] Thanks for being my friend. Hugz! grannym Merit Badge in Appreciation [Click For More Info] For brightening my day with your delightful offerings ~ Thank you so much! *^*Heart*^*


IN MEMORIUM

VerySara

passed away November 12, 2005

Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings.
More suggested links:

Before the strom, Bushton's water tower.
These pictures rotate.



 Kåre *Leaf5* Enga
~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go.
~ Elizabeth Bishop,
The Fish
November 18, 2014 at 4:51pm
November 18, 2014 at 4:51pm
#834354
Starlings

O'er sagging cornfield scarecrows,
birds fly in tight formation,
dip and weave as if they know
that winter comes then winter goes.

© Kåre Enga [8.noviembre.2014]

78,543
November 15, 2014 at 7:32pm
November 15, 2014 at 7:32pm
#834132
Weatherman

Whether you return to Kansas plains,
flat fertile fields of pregnant grain,
erotic elevators, deep furrowed soils,
may westwinds blow your weathervane.

© Kåre Enga 8.noviembre.2014

For Mark Hejka our weatherman from Kansas! These ditties always need work but better to write the silly things down, edit and then decide where they go from there. This one is destined for Kansas. *Wind*
78,535
November 14, 2014 at 5:40pm
November 14, 2014 at 5:40pm
#834058
O Lamp of My Life!
Grease my monkey with your moustache,
illuminate my inner ape,
you dream-like moonscape of my night!

© Kåre Enga 7-8.noviembre.2014.

For Acton

78,532
November 12, 2014 at 5:42pm
November 12, 2014 at 5:42pm
#833929
Extermination

I don't like being half insane.
It's not as if my family's to blame
but they don't help.

And it's A-Okay to lose it
for a moment, I tell myself,
but that's a lie.

I empathize with the dying bugs.
I too want to eat, to rest, to love,
not live to die.

But I scream at deaf walls and furniture:
move this chair, that bookcase there!
I twirl in space.

After they've sprayed my small two rooms
it looks like a wreck... Why can't it all
fit back in place?

© Kåre Enga 2014.november.11

Needs editing to fix rhythm, strengthen words, but I don't have time now!
November 11, 2014 at 5:39pm
November 11, 2014 at 5:39pm
#833857
Last supper

They feast tonight,
flee before dawn's light.
Those just hatched glow red.
They're well fed,
unaware their first is their last.

They'll die after the cock crows once,
before it crows twice.

High noon, their End of Time,
looms lethal.

But tonight they attend the family supper:
mother, siblings, uncle.

Spread out like a smørgåsbord,
they feast on me.

© Kåre Enga 2014.noviembre.8
78,519
November 7, 2014 at 4:11pm
November 7, 2014 at 4:11pm
#833503
I dream Montana

Clouds glower at mountain ridges; stop,
then lift their veils of rain and pass.

Pine welcomes mist while blades of grass
green yet through all this I somehow know:

I'm dreaming Montana.

Open meadows, thunder of hooves,
howls from the bowels of canyons, woods.

Not gone, but fading

as moon-filled nights fade at dawn-light
where the buzz of a billion deeds

not done, still wait.

Why drown this dream with human plight?
In my bed I close my eyes. Unseen,

I dream Montana.

© Kåre Enga 31.agosto.2014

Oh, if I were Russell (the famous westerner) today...

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/982524-Laura-del-Campo/month/11-1-2014