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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 |
Daffodil I'm tougher than I look. My raw thoughts concealed. My throbbing heart hidden behind my sunny smile. I'm fragile like a daffodil blooming on my grandpa's grave. Pick me and I'll flower again. I'll bloom on your grave too. I'm tougher than I look. My raw thoughts concealed. My throbbing heart hidden behind my sunny smile. You thrive surrounded by your sycophants. I survive cocooned in an afghan all alone. You pluck the blooming beauty then let it die. My roots delve deep into Life's soil I create it. I'm tougher than I look. My raw thoughts concealed. My throbbing heart hidden behind my sunny smile. I'm the weed growing in your marble crack, silent words scrambling through your rock-scree brain. I'm the wind you can't control, the wisdom you eschew. I'm more powerful than you. I'm tougher than I look. My raw thoughts concealed. My throbbing heart hidden behind my sunny smile. I'm only a daffodil, more powerful than you. © Kåre Enga (29.august.2025) 37 lines |
| La Música Drums cross the wooden floors, pine groaning to pounding feet, the rhythm of clogs, the shuffle of sandals. The espresso machine provides harmony for the unburdened whine soaring from customers ordering — a brioche, a fluted canelé, a latté skinny with oat milk and a dash of vanilla. Hold the tears, hold the drama! I wear a yellow shirt with a faded ink stain, the curse of writers not too proud to wear second hand clothes or write down emotions overheard between words unspoken. Unbroken, invisible, I grip my cup of daily drip as if it contains some sanity, as words squiggle across a blank page, now relieved to be of some use more than a blotter for stains. This useless day gleams, not too hot, not too chill, odd for August, as the sun peaks through clouds to gild the drought-yellowed leaves that catch a breeze, like Lazarus, hoping to survive autumn to green again come next spring. Melodic thoughts bring peace; but, give way to annoying traffic, to feet pounding the pavement; La Música now a cacophony, dying when a motorcycle screeches its descant, shattering the moment. © Kåre Enga (4.agosto.2025) 31 lines 127.589 views |
| After the breakdown I've been on that train, watch it rumble by. ... been on that plane, rowing 'cross the sky. Now in my hole, happy as a mole, I let those troubles pass me by. I've been in that car, driving fast and far. ... drove so far until the road ran out. Got out; spaced out. Trouble can't find me now. I've lived that life of daily drama, of never ending strife. But now I choose serenity, to live, to give, to stay alive. I still gladly greet all who cross my path, nod at those who walk on by, yet sit with those who daily join me, to rest, to chat, to smile awhile. I give of myself, share what I've lived. ... this happy life, my only life to give. © Kåre Enga (31.juli.2025) 18 lines |
| aaaaaaa under construction... © Kåre Enga (31.juli.2025) |
| I'm leaving I was leaving. I didn't leave. It was winter didn't go far. I wanted to run away... ran off to college had a miserable time I couldn't stay, so I ran further away. Why did I leave? What was my search? I found it whatever it was And healed whatever that was and began to smile. What did I find? Was it enough? I dreamt dreams are so tricky. I left when winter became spring. Was I happy. No. Did I stay. Yes. For years I was happy being unhappy. I wanted to leave. so I left. Left my troubles behind... didn't take long for them to find me Again and again and again. I once had a neighbor who played the harp known as Serenity just like her harp. But I never found the peace I searching for. I'm leaving each time searching for something. I'm leaving my troubles are packed. I've never been able to leave them behind. © Kåre Enga (29.juni.2025) 38 lines inspired by the Beatles "She Leaving Home" (1967) For
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For AniPon "Everything is Everything"  I didn't like the prompt as 'speaking in tongues' has negative implications for me. I found the song intriguing and use of rap appropriate but its busy-urban background noise annoys me. I live in silence, seek calm, avoid the drama swirling around me... as best I can. Let's love ourselves and we can't fail To make a better situation Tomorrow, our seeds will grow Tomorrow, our seeds will grow Built on failed dreams, frustration, we fear for the future of our nation no tears needed, no explanation will answer questions you ignored. Do we reap from what we sow? Tomorrow, our seeds will grow! Trashed by doubts and blurry vision by dog-eat-hotdog competition we now let go of our divisions to welcome peace into our homes. where we will act upon our prayers more than empty words that snare the unwary weary; now we dare to freely offer our solutions. Do we reap from what we sow? Tomorrow, our seeds will grow! No time for fatalistic thoughts; no time for empty dreams we bought. No would've, could've, should've, oughts. No time for obfuscation. We will reap the peace we sow. Tomorrow, our seeds will grow. © Kåre Enga (29.juni.2025) 22 lines 125,269 views |
| Blown away by truth Love blinds me in an instant I want him. I need him. Sense fading in the distance. I hide behind my walls, balance on his parapet, frightened of the fall. I seek what I can hold careful not to crush him, shy and timid, never bold. But then he sees me, frowns. I stand frozen in his glare, melting, seek to drown. So, I light a match, then dash, my torch flaming, burning, reducing reality to ash. Embers seen from a distance, glow where once love grew, extinguished in an instant, blown away by truth. © Kåre Enga (7.juni.2025) 19 lines prompted by the Beatles "For No One"(1966) Poetics: axa bxb cxc dxd exe afaf For
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| Birches and blossoms Eyes wide open a child climbs the birch — blue robin eggs The pines have sheltered the deer, the robin, from ice, the melt, the chill, now spring has found the birch greening branches, enticing sparrows, finches and robins to move to a new perch. Come summer, dense shade of the maple, and the damp leaf mold, provide a home for bugs and worms for generations of wings that adorn the trees like autumn leaves among the gold. Now the winds of winter lulls all to sleep under a blanket of snow. Yet life persists in nooks and crannies, slowly marking the days until the sun returns when the impatient plums send out buds and bloom. robin flitting among plum blossoms — old man with a cane © Kåre Enga [182.] (7.juni.2025) 27 lines |
| King of Hearts Ruth looked at the cards spread on the table, knew they offered no hope, no wisdom guiding me through my dilemmas. And no money, past, present, future. The King of Hearts sat at the center begging me to hold on, to be patient. For there was no love this side of the horizon, but someday... someday I'd learn to let go, get a grip on my senses, let someone climb over my fences, let someone love me, allow myself to love them in return © Kåre Enga [182.] (31.mai.2025) 12 lines Notes: Prompt was "Desperado" My tarot card is the King of Hearts: no fame, no money, no conquest. Based on a real tarot card reading... years ago. 124.466 |
| On a Dark Red Day for Mark Looking up at the ceiling An eclipse of the lamp light my right hand moving left to block out the day I stay back to the bed my future looming above me the glooming of Sunday a lighter shade of Hell that can wait till tomorrow or overmorrow or until the left hand transverses the pillow to beg the waning of the night to block the waxing of the new day © Kåre Enga [182.] 18.mai.2025 14 lines 123.798 |
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