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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 |
Green pancakes Dad, add mint and hope — to dispel the stench of last night's snores — that raspy voice of dreams, mix in milk to make it creamy — bananas to give some substance — baking powder to fluff it up — pour on a hot griddle, flip when done — a feast for Sunday morning's breakfast — then lick the plate clean when finished; but I beg — please leave some for your monkey. © 2021 Kåre Enga [177.360] (2.mars.2021) 8 lines, 80 syllables total, fun with the — emdash Using "EXPRESS IT IN EIGHT" ![]() For "Celebrating National Pancake Week!" ![]() Green pancakes are a thing! Use mint and spinach: https://www.washingtonpost.com/recipes/green-pancakes/15933/ https://beingnutritious.com/green-banana-mint-pancakes/ Also the cultivar banana mint is used in smothies. |
To dream ...perchance to sleep; yet — pillows become cotton clouds as sheets billow and blankets smother peccadillos — of wanton days. Come what may... I'll hug you tight throughout these fearsome nights. © Kåre Enga [177.354] (24.februar.2021) For:
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I lean I lean into Friday — not sure that these days off will comfort the reality that all days suck when you're not here to share them — then slowly I lean back if only to ground myself. © Kåre Enga [177.351] (19.februar.2021) Based on leaning bronze statue by Emil Alzamora. https://momentsjournal.com/emil-alzamora-extraordinary-human-bronze-sculptures/ For
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Tuesday afternoon? Clogged drain and the power out. Brain drain. I begin to pout Back upon the bed to nap, yet daydream instead — of crap. © Kåre Enga [177.348] (18.februar.2021) For
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"Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson ![]() "If you're offered a seat on a rocket ship, don't ask what seat! Just get on." ~ Sheryl Sandberg Save me a seat He swims frigid sunshine — golden rays on his golden head, his wings black against a purple sky, this moment that will not last. Surfing photons beyond this Galaxy's edge, she haunts the cold of the Universe's hedge against Humanity's spread — before the blast. Father — Mother — All who fly through seas, that seek to soar through oxblood moonlight. © Kåre Enga [177.347] (15.februar.2021) 8 long lines of 9-11 syllables. for:
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Sketchbook I limn those moments we spent together: your face — your voice as blank as this page, scant as ink that fades. KE [346] For "24 Syllables" ![]() |
Frozen over Bleak bouquet of ice-pack clogging veins of mountains weeping sweeping winter's wreckage to the sea — a sea that waits this day-bright day of white — the white of glistening slopes, the cold of expectant come-what-may — what may become of this jam that clogs the sway of channels as they melt — then swiftly flow to the sea. © Kåre Enga [177.344] (13.februar.2021)
Earlier version: Frozen over Bleak bouquet of ice-pack clogging veins of mountains weeping sweeping winter's wreckage to the sea — a sea that waits this day-bright day of white — the white of glistening slopes, the cold of expectant come-what-may — what may become of this jam that clogs the sway of channels as they melt — melt then flow to the sea. © Kåre Enga [177.344] (13.februar.2021) |
Stalactite Deep in caves beyond dark nooks of bats where no one ventures, water drips from stony eyes as if to touch in centuries, millennia, your upturned face, a drip drip drip of tears that try to reach you. I will always love you through floods and drought, hidden from the sad reproach of those who cannot understand that I will always love you as my stalactite meets your stalagmite, and there we'll stand together like a pillar, still... I will always love you till eternity removes all memories of stone and water. © Kåre Enga [177.343] (10.februar.2021) For the 48 hour Media Prompt but entered into
LYRICS Whenever I'm alone with you You make me feel like I am home again Whenever I'm alone with you You make me feel like I am whole again Whenever I'm alone with you You make me feel like I am young again Whenever I'm alone with you You make me feel like I am fun again However far away I will always love you However long I stay I will always love you Whatever words I say I will always love you I will always love you Whenever I'm alone with you You make me feel like I am free again Whenever I'm alone with you You make me feel like I am clean again However far away I will always love you However long I stay I will always love you Whatever words I say I will always love you I will always love you Source: LyricFind Songwriters: Chucky Thompson / Faith Evans / Faith Renee Evans |
A cinquain of 22 syllables. Trapped inside It snowed, horizontal slant, a cold front backing up. Ground beef, onions cooked in a pan till scorched. © Kåre Enga [177.342.cq] (8.februar.2021) |
shoutitagain in the cavecavecave only echoechoecho no answers to our questions only sound reflection in the chambers of our mindmindmind where we findfindfind less than nothing © Kåre Enga [177.340] (8.februar.2021) For
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