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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 ![]() ![]() 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 ![]() ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
Wish you were here Kev Twenty years ago, arriving with a headache. You finding aspirin for me, hugging me to let me know, I could just be me. We were where we needed to be: two opposites floating on this sea, the green fields of South Carolina, the ripe straw fields of Illinois, an expanse as flat can be. After twenty years, crossing this wilderness with you and twenty more years without you, I still feel the warmth of your hug, kindness of your love. I wish you were here. I wish you were here. After twenty years without you, Kev, still wish you were here. © Kåre Enga [181.42] (21.juli.2024) 19 lines |
Merry Mary, Quite Contrary She waters her garden — where she's planted her ex midst pansies, white daisies, belladonna, bluets. She'd sighed — do you love me — as they kissed one last time. Now she's planted his bones 'neath fresh compost and lime. Oh Mare, art thou merry — or merely insane? Oh Merry Contrary — Oh Mary McCain! You surely must know that they'll soon find you out when the neighbor's old dog sniffs his flesh with his snout. You'll make up a story how he left you betrayed but those selfies will sing of the bed that you made. Oh Mare, art thou merry — or merely insane? Oh Merry Contrary — Oh Mary McCain! © Kåre Enga [181.38] (8.juli.2024) Lyric response to "The One-Line Lyric Challenge" ![]() 112.563 |
Visting Zeno's Nebulae When these wondrous weaves will perish, we may ponder, cannot know. They may linger like spent snow. Remember me, Zmitri, go. © Kåre Enga [181.24] (9.juni.2024) "Visiting Zeno's Nebulae [181.24]" ![]() K Enga [181.24] (9.juni.2024) 8/4/2/1 4/2/1 4/2/1 Zeno's Paradoxes are well known re space and time and motion. |
Moon over ‘Straya I've traveled in Australia, gone from here to there, wasted a day looking out at nothing writing a little, little to say... but that big ball of light in the evening sky... how long to get there, how long to get back, would there be time enough to describe the emptiness if I took a train across it. © Kåre Enga [181.23] (28.mai.2024) |
Double Espresso, please! Put off! Put off! those charcoal thoughts that dim the morning's glee. And don't come back until they're gone when sunshine sets you free. © Kåre Enga [181.8] (9.april.2024) |
UNDER CONSTRUCTION [Spring will come but not for me] Spring will come but not for me said the orange leaf to the tree My time was fun but now it's done. I'm longing to be free. but I have heard that spring will come, your sap rise from the ground. Another bud, another leaf will cover up your crown. The maple sadly waved a branch she'd heard this every fall and smiled as she fell asleep until next springtime's thrall when trunk will groan with rising sap she'll gladly burst forth buds of fresh green leaves and blooms for bees to make and set new seeds that grow and grace these naked hills through winter's snowy lull adorn with summer's emeralds, rubies ablaze each fall. © Kåre Enga [181.7] (1.april.2024} |
In the beginning We slipped into each other effortlessly — like otters into cool waters — the river's eddies barely lapping nearby shores. We adored those moments mesmerized looking out at stars, the warmth of our slick skin melting the ice flows beneath us. Thus, our thrusts forged gems as heat and pressure could barely hold back the steamy ▼ eruption of what we created. Oh, Zmitri, what eternity we created! © Kåre Enga [181.6zm] (8.april.2024) |
blast of wind — saggy pants stoop to pick up scattered red leaves © Kåre Enga [181.5] (5.april.2024) |
Softball (circa 1986) the black cat chatters — two birds mate oblivious outside her window © Kåre Enga [181.4] (3.april.2024) |
It will not snow today, unless it snows in Hell. Nor will I burn for you under your spell I cannot live with lies, but only for myself. Time for me to fly and leave this mortal shelf. I've sought your cave for shelter but found it empty, cold; yet, thought that you were better than me alone, It's time for me to search now. Hope stays somewhere near where spring and autumn rule, but never here. It's not that I don't love you but whether you love me. Do you think that I'm some fool? I set you free to happily find another, to somehow stay alive. I can only send you love that you may thrive. © Kåre Enga [181.3] (1.april.2024) |