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 |
Unnamed Boy in Memento Park The young boy stood there among the others, Lenin on the left, Red Star on the right, not quite forgotten, not quite lamented, just put away. He remembered the day when his creator released him from where he was hiding deep in the stone and the years of standing silently proud as wreaths garnished his feet and garlands of flowers filled untiring arms. He missed their sweet fragrance and the shouts of glee from those thousands, who marching, saluted his gay array. Then one night they carried him away, not to bury him as some great hero, not to spit upon him in disgust, just to place him here among those who were greater, to gather moss or rust. He lets cold rain cleanse his face of dark thoughts as he sees the old lady with the umbrella, she who still searches for something lost. Will she remember and whisper his name. Kare Enga [177.13] (31.mars.2020) Note: Memento park is outside BudaPest. It is the resting place for statues that are no longer politically correct. 104.014 |