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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 |
| Bullets in the sky Tuna cans spread wings to lift above the darkening day. What may come of this? This bumblebee that should not fly, but does. The buzz of air, the wobble of wheels, the rush, the lift. This silver gift slicing through clouds, glistening. Then the dive at the bitter end when the can splits opens, spits us out: herring, tuna, cod, the daily catch released upon the tarmac. © Kåre Enga [10.agosto.2016] La Promesa (needs major editing) Cierre los ojos! La ciudad despierta. Qué me has ofrecido? Tranquilo la madrugada. Los callejones mudos. Ojos abiertos! Corazón quebrada. Pensamientos de lo que sea, de lo que no debe ser. Cómo parece inocente la ciudad sin gente! Los zanates no conversan. La luna no canta. Las aceras no tiene ningúna opinión. En esta vida... qué me has prometido? © Kåre Enga [9.agosto.2016] Flesh and Fiction We're all fiction: our names mere labels, inadequate constrictions. They cannot contain our disparate predictions that leak beyond the frontiers of flesh we violate. Our days countdown to our rest, our death some new beginning. What tales told become more lies that don't define us. Can't confine our lives to here and now. We've climbed through those nightmares, fled with dreams to dance with the devil who dares to bind us. © Kåre Enga [29.julio.2016] PZ, Costa Rica al camino... Dare! Under a cold sky the city allows no stars to show us the way. All hope blotted out. All chance to leave aborted. Within, all shivers. Hope withers when sun and moon have fled, address unknown. But the multitudes on high who listen to our prayers, could show us a way... if they dare. © Kåre enga [28.julio.2016] PZ/MT |
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). That said, use what the Muse gifts.