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 |
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] |