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 |
Daffodils march on and on through all my childhood dreams and a myriad of tulips bloom or so it seems; but here the smoke and chilies choke as durians stench the air. Oh, to be a youth again and debonair. |
my rashes fade from red to pink; my bruise turns into rainbows. All futures lie beyond these wounds the ones that I've survived. And smoke gives way to rain— tomorrow? And joy overcomes the pain and sorrow. |
Your way or the highway? I chose, and landed in Norway— fifty years later. I wakened to it: snow-on-vidda, my hair turning white. no way to deny the advance of age, the calming of rage, the Coming Home. Earlier 47 word version written today: Your way or the highway? I choose My Way and landed in Norway fifty years after I dreamt it. Now I wakened to it: the vidda snow capped, my hair turning white, no way to deny the advance of age, the calming of rage, the Coming Home. |
Smiles beguile you, make you feel welcome, enough to stay awhile (or forever); but, beware, their guile knows no bounds. So... go to Thailand. It's definitely worthwhile... but for a trial. This lifestyle may, or may not, not suit you. |
...nor hasty. It's not that I don't like You. I consider You a joyful Friend. To that end, "Pride proceedeth a fall." So, when I fall, catch me in your arms. I have no fear of You, only the dying. |
Enticing smells of catfish boiling, lemony aroma of cilantro, the stench of... What did I say that upset you. Why is there blood turning black in the sink. Where's the dog, the cat, my mother. Am I certain that's fish? |
I hope that smoke won't choke us, that flames never consume us, that you return to snore by my side, that gentle rains will fill our dreams, that we may swim together as one. |
"That Book?" Yeah, the one that tells lies about me. That only shows one side of the conversation. That misquotes me, misunderstands me, makes me the Bad Guy. There was no problem before you wrote it. There'll be none after... |
we approach. we flee. carefully. rubber bands bring closure—cause pain. karma's some awesome boomerang! band-aids protect. but attachment kills. "let's go." "LET GO." they warn but do not know. when two become one—that's a no-show. |
March on? Even birds fly listless and clothes barely wave at the morning. Nothing runs quickly through this smoky heat except for fire and anger. Both need a shower. So, I'd give him a kiss; but, why wake Sleeping Beauty? |