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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 |
| Bring the dawn Darkest magic looms at noon, sucking goodness out of life, surviving in dark corners all day and night, thrives within that darksome space where soft-hearts no longer bide. And worse — it roams abroad, no longer hides. © Copyright 2024 Kåre Enga (16.januar.2024) |
| Split pea soup He said "split this atom", and so she did. He said "split this Adam", and so she did. My grandmother split green peas, Oh, yes, she did. We sopped up soup with fresh baked bread. Oh, yes, we did. © Kåre Enga (14.januar.2024) [180.xxx] 109.998 blog views |
| Talisman This rock... so nondescript. No one has used it to write — nor yet written on it. Too dull to notice, too hard to smite, too soft and yet — once split it reveals light, a reflection of amethyst. On inspection, unworldly bliss. © Copyright 2024 Kåre Enga (9.januar.2024) |
| Flight of the poet Boulder: too uptight. Colorado now outta-sight, receding in the rear-view mirror. Two-thousand-four... Illinois bound — to lick my wounds. Twenty years ago, I wanted to die — the end of the road came in Kansas. After a lost four years, that I somehow survived, a colder view of life and a pile of poems stuck in a folder. © Copyright 2024 Kåre Enga (7.januar.2024) |
| Caught in my eye Green specks reflect the reality before me; white coats sad memories, fogs the hardening lens What can be seen clearly through my heart matters most, for neither coins nor seconds will buy us more time. I dream of the future, reminisce 'bout the past, only plan for this moment, as long as it lasts. I see green surround me as I swivel my head, hope that the place where I'll lie grows green when I'm dead. © Copyright 2024 Kåre Enga (6.januar.2024) |
| There comes a hardening... To the veins that control the flow of oxygen to old toes and feeble brains. And to the gaze tired of the same-old-s***, the same lame excuses from dim lives poorly lit. © Copyright 2024 Kåre Enga [180.xxx] (5.januar.2024) |
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). That said, use what the Muse gifts.