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 |
Not giving in The east breeze eases and the rustle of leaves hushes as he briskly paces down the slushy path, hands in pockets, cap askew, coat zippered tight, scarf wrapped twice, muffled against the morning ice and pain of swollen joints he tries to ignore keeping up with teenagers, pretending he's a youngster, repeating with each breath: use it or lose it... use it or you will lose... © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.7] (26.mars.2021) 8 lines lengthening: 5/8/11/14 // 8/11/14/17 For
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Dwindling What's left when mugs are drained and bowls once filled, consumed What remains of days long past save flesh and bones entombed. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.8] (26.mars.2021) 8 short lines For
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