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 the rod when father raises welts then weeps remembering his own unhealed wounds. © Kåre Enga [171.O1] There comes a softening... ...to hard floors when blue mats cover concrete a resting place for the dead, walls remaining hard to separate the barely living. © Kåre Enga [171.O2] There comes a softening... ...to screeching strings. when mellow cello begs viola to join and sing those alto notes while testy violins keep silent and bass bows soft, plucks pianissimo a deep throat vibrating as cello rises then recedes in a bow to the patient violins. © Kåre Enga [171.O3] There comes a softening... ...to camel's back when thirst has hollowed hump or when a single straw has broken it as once treasured burdens spill like scattered grains of sand. © Kåre Enga [171.O4] |