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 |    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 L  V 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 |
| Prompts: EXACT CLAIM STAY Being exact Write to abstractions *sigh* like a coloring book devoid of color, being told to stay inside the lines with the smallest box of stubby crayons: black, red, blue, green, yellow. No fragrances, no sound, no touch ... other than wax on off-white cheap rough paper. Now to divide this by eight, claim it's a poem, as if being exact makes a life worth living. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.29] (5.april.2021) For:
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| I don't mean to cause grief When I leave, my plants suffer, in spite of plans to have someone water them or plans to take them out of the window, soak and let dry... Some survive... better than my african violets that dad kept alive for years until my sister decided they needed to be outside in June's burning sun. Dead in a week, my attic room cleaned out, personal letters tossed and high school projects trashed, emotionally pushed over a cliff, no warning. I speak soft so my geraniums don't hear. they may be on their own this summer... I swear I don't mean to cause them grief. It's a relief when I come home and they've made an offering of one last bloom. They've survived. I've been home for a year now, a very long year now. Do they suspect? Or are they like me, age 20, innocent about Death and Life's relentless cruelty. Like them, a survivor. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.28] (4.april.2021) For
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). That said, use what the Muse gifts.
