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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 |
| Doing laundry at Sparkles Your head rises into the stratosphere, white haired and unruly. You turn grey at your base, a dark omen glowering. They tell me to ignore you. But I know your kind. You'll promise to go away then pommel us with hailstones. I never trust those who hold their heads so high. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.152] (13.juni.2021) 7 pm at Sparkle |
| I must say... you got rid of your acne until your friend hid behind the horizon tinting your blotches a golden yellow making Mt. Jumbo blush in peach while you hid your blemishes with a bank of grey to the west. Do what's best. May the soft night air clear your skin. May you dawn with a fresh face. May we all live to see it. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.151.s] (6.juni.2021) |
| Let them know it was never about them I look up at the blue globe in the MT sky, see your eyes and a golden ring around it. If you were calm skies and I was the earth, then they were the storms that came between us. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.150.s] (6.juni.2021) 4 lines 11/11 10/10 MT = empty or Montana ... you choose. |
| I told Sunset about you Sunset hid behind your clouds but I knew she was listening. I told her about how you lit up my days with the mere echo of your voice, your face fading over time until only your radiant smile remained. Perhaps what can't be said in this lifetime was forged in the past or will be revealed in the next. Only Dawn will know after this short night. Give her my love. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.149.s] (6.juni.2021) |
| Pineapple upside down cake O vile excuse for acid indigestion dumped from tin cans disguised by batter. Oh, I'm battered by bad memories of luscious yellow cake destroyed by pineapple. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.147] (20.juni.2021) I didn't realize that pineapple could be sweet and wonderful until many years later. Tin cans destroyed many foods for me growing up. Mashed mushy miserable minced pineapple was the worse. I was crushed.
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| Serenade to me at age 10 You raised me in a world limited to a small box of 8 stubby crayons, a world defined by blue and red, red and pink for girls and blue for me; but Shelley loved dark blue velvet and I loved Mickey's big box of wax, drawing Percival's heraldic shield in melon and sea green. You dressed me in navy until I rebelled. My color was orange but orange did not exist for boys. I picked out clothes in brown and green. I knew by 10 that I was different, that no teacher could teach me how to hold a pencil or tie my shoe laces. I yearned for my own box of crayons. Now I can afford the biggest box and define myself any way I choose. I look out at the same old Sun that set a thousand yesterdays, marvel at the hues, how burnt orange and bittersweet now streak across a sea of midnight blue. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.181] (1.juli.2021) 21 lines For
Write a poem inspired by a color. Line Count Requirement: min 12, no max |
| Fearless gun to the head or so he said no time to be scared as time stood still while driving pulling into the cop shop honking the horn no one peered out coulda been shot wasn't no time for reacting no time for regrets no time for fear © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.147] (21.juni.2021) Note: based on an actual experience, a short but vivid one. PPC#3 June 21st-27th prompt: "fearless" as the title. For
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| When a moment lasts a lifetime A moth decides to stay and dies between the window panes. A moth decides to fly to be quickly swallowed by a swift. I stayed. I left. Zig zag zig zag zig... And here I sadly rest. Too old to care at best. You scream, Why can't you decide! as if as if I have a choice when I must choose to sit between the window panes or be swallowed by a swift. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.146] (2.juni.2021) Note: I have high anxiety that peaks when I can't make a decision... like this last week... but revisiting that isn't how I write. I shake when I'm overly anxious. I writebest when I'm depressed or awed. For:
PPC Week # 2 Uncertainty: Think about a time in your life when you couldn’t make a decision, and write a poem based on it. 105.395 |
...sraey neetxis yppaH yppaH      :yrtne golb tsrif ym "Summer: 1 Rahmat 162 (June 24)"  June 24, 2005in my first blog "L'aura del Campo" My first post? 2864 views and 190 r/r. I got the pretty red ribbon this year. 
My second post? 3226 views with 217 r/r. I suspect this is why I became a yellow case.
Other very early posts: "Boise City" "Starbeams on Tulsa" "'we are like trees'" "Fine wine" "At two" My first poem from 1999. I'm sure I wrote a couple before then but... "Mirrored in your eyes" Many of my poems are love poems or laments, like my Zmitri poems or recent serenades.
Am I romantic? Lilli 🧿 ☕  wants to know. See: "Wednesday again and again" I'm almost as old as the Bard
105.350 |
| Mute Before sunset, before moonrise, when storm clouds cry, I think of you always smiling like morning dew. I have no clue what magic spins from your wand's end; you laugh wherein you make me grin, or smirk, or gush. It's not easy to hide my lust for the stardust caught in your hair. I do not speak. I never share. I do not dare to mouth my thoughts. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.145] (19.juni.2021) A pathya vat for
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