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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 |
| Alchemy Trees raise their arms in praise, silhouetted by an orange glow. I'm too slow to catch it with my camera. A thousand sunsets come and gone and now forgotten. I catch what I can. Like hugs. They're free and I'm always grateful. At the end of many a dull day the setting fireball has turned all to gold then copper. I watch the cooling treasure sinking into the abyss beyond the far horizon. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.132] (2.juni.2021) |
| Joy left behind The flower I plucked sits in a vase wafting its fragrance towards me. It doesn't know that it's dead, doesn't care that I killed it. ii The sun sets caressing emergent leaves, lighting up slopes with orange tinted fingers. Soon the sky darkens, turning navy and puce. iii This day, the only day we live, will die with its passing, unaware of the joy it gives and leaves behind in the dying flower that it birthed. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.131] (1.juni.2021) |
| Flight of a day They embark above the locust tree, bask in your rays an hour before you set, unaware that they will not see you dawn. Their lives are short as gold turns vermillion and swallows swoop in their hunt. Somewhere in a warmer clime a nighthawk screeches and bats begin to wing their flight. But what is this to them? They live for the day, the sunset glow, this moment that lasts a lifetime. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.130.s] (31.mai.2021) |
| Last rays As rays part the sky and turn the mountain into gold, a fiery globe bids good night as we move away spinning eastwoard on our own axis. It will greet us at the dawn when we awake. One more dawning of one more day to be warmed by its rays. One more lament that your life goes on without me. Would that I could send a message on the photons — i love you i love you i love you — repeating every dawn. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.129] (29.mai.2021) |
| Locust Tattered, torn and yet the flag still rises — limp. Traffic crosses the bridge with a rumble, softer at sunset. Under an orange-gold sky the yellow green leaves do not notice the passing of the day. Unlike me they feel tomorrow in a waft of air or rising sap — budding another baby leaf to live its life. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.128] (28.mai.2021) |
| March 21, 1962 To the east of choppy Lake Eerie, Michelle L'Éclair marks her tenth birthday with candles and cupcakes and gifts topped with snowflakes from her friends dressed as pink polar bears. It's the first day of Spring and the Winter's last fling on the shores of snowy Lake Eerie. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.117] (8.juni.2021) 8 lines. 9/9/6/6/9//6/6/9 rxaax bbr I grew up with Chelly LeClair and her birthday was in March. The rest is fictional. But Lake Erie does NOT allow Spring to have her way until May... maybe June. For
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| Invalid Photo #1055238 Ursa-June She's out there blowing the smoke around sneaking into rooms with open windows touching the gossamer drapes that once she owned. She's back for a visit from the stars where they call out her name — the one we forgot — the one that every child bears in her DNA, the one you would seek to know if you knew there was a secret in the smoke that scrawls it across the starlit sky in cursive, erased each dawn. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga, [178.116] (7.juni.2021) 13 lines, free verse, ekphrastic
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| As Seen On TV Buyer, buyer, pay the price. We walk on water, glide on ice with smiles to melt the poor man's plight or restore the blind man's sight. Our lanterns guide you through the night; never an ember glowed so bright; never a candle gave more light than liars, liars, cold as ice. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.115] (5.juni.2021) For
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| After the break-up Eyes lidded with bright blue mascara, cheeks caked with whitening creme, cold stares meant to put me in my place, nightmares banished by warm wet-dreams. Small vestibules never bother me; bigger is seldom better. It was the yellow door that opened, the smile that let me forget her. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga, [178.114] (4.juni.2021) Prompt: an image of a small house with blue/white awnings and a bright yellow door. 8 lines. 9/7/9/8 9/7/9/8 xaxa xbxb For
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Yes, I know this is gruesome.  Night seizures I fade, my brain oozing beside your car. It's as detached from my body as my heart once beat, pickled in a jar. Eyes now glaze over; ears no longer care. Yes, you spoke with extreme malice and the honest truth I could never bear. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.113] (3.juni.2021) 8 lines 10/8/5/5 axxa-bxxb For
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