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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 |
| Festival after festival. Orange celebrates our city. Red ushers in the Lunar New Year. What color is the sky if not Blue? Grey, smoky today. We thirst. May it all turn Black with bolts of lightning. May rains come. |
| 24.กุมภาพันธ์.2566. Inspired by a scene in "My School President". When rains fall When rains fall as they must fall every winter will you let me cry alone or offer your umbrella. Will tear-drops I shed mean nothing, as my words have always meant nothing, or will rain-songs wash away pain and this dust of summer. Beyond shimmers of doubt will healing-harmonies join in. © Copyright 2023 Kåre Enga [179.143] (24.februar.2023) |
| Either way When Death comes calling I will smile hand outstretched to walk awhile and then — oblivion; but, if perchance I wake once more may Life come joyful to my door I'll gladly — make amends. Notes ▼ |
| Branches raised bare fingers to thirsty skies as blossoms burst to outshine Death. They fell like golden raindrops to adorn the dust. Nothing living could compare. No topaz dared. To Ngalis their message was clear. Leave now or join them. |
| It sleets for thee I think that I shall never hear this poem that I hold most dear or see the raven in a tree, that caws, "if not for them... for thee". And shall I dare repeat, repeat: tomorrow's forecast rains sleet? And do eyes blear before High Tea, like Frost's, forever rest-in-sleep. © Copyright 2023 Kåre Enga [179.137] (27.januar.2023) aa, bb, cc with abc in the last stanza similar to a sestina. If sestina means basket, is this a bitty-baby-baskenette? Earlier version: It sleets for thee I think that I shall never hear a poem that I hold most dear or see the raven in a tree, that caws, "if not for thee... for thee". And shall I dare repeat, repeat: tomorrow's forecast rains sleet? Do mine eyes blear before High Tea, like Frost's, forever rest-in-sleep. © Copyright 2023 Kåre Enga [179.136] (27.januar.2023) |
| "WE BETTER TALK THIS OVER" by Bob Dylan: But I don't think it's liable to happen Like the sound of one hand clappin'. "Yappin' in the Octopus's Garden" My arms be flappin' My thoughts zappin' You ask "What's happenin'?" My lips be chappin' Cold winds slappin' Winter's what's maddenin'. Come join me nappin' my eight arms wrappin' 'round you, no longer sad. © Copyright 2023 Kåre Enga [179.135] 25.januar.2023 36 words |
| This is my fervent wish: I wish I were a fish. Served on a porcelain platter next to a knish. I know you love potatoes. I know you love me too. Yes, I know I'm dandyish. I'm your favorite dish. |
| wag wag wag my tail wag wag wag my nose wag wag wag my ___ you're coming home! kiss kiss kiss your lips kiss kiss kiss your cheek kiss kiss kiss your ___ you'll soon be home! 35 words |
| Swallows swirl. Flowers fluff their frills. I twirl round and round, a lonesome hound house bound. More can be said? The Past lies dead. My name ain't Fred! Words take flight as I turn on lights for whom I write. |
| I left my chained captivity. Escaped yo' sweet toxicity. Keep it for yo'self. Gimme collectivity. Add responsibility. Naïveté? Non. Don't need no negativity. Don't want yo' positivity. Keep it to yo'self. Exponentiality and quantifiability can ne'er excuse your toxic positivity. So, keep it to yo'self Title at the end to be a tad more creative. My friend Alfred often does this. |
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). That said, use what the Muse gifts.