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 |
Pink It's the softness of the color pink when worn by a rose or Rosa wrapped in a cashmere sweater inviting me to eat mayo mixed with beets ensalada rusa se dice in soft tones looking at me sadly as if this loss of what made me — me — were all there ever was to me. I seek a new definition: bold blue hair, crisp crimsom skirt, black lace and black velvet, purple — anywhere and everywhere. I refuse to be reduced to a ribbon in your memory. Remember how we walked October's arbors of yellow and green turning gold, orange rowan berries dangling, clouds scudding across a troubled tourquoise sky rustling the leaves, and yet, pink — how it cheers up that tiny cottage, its eaves trimmed in white. © Kåre Enga [177.262] (23.oktober.2020) 18 lines free verse For October 2020:
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