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 LV 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 |
Mistress of the seven wounds Bleached seaweed rises at noon, cleansed by tides and both hidden moons that caress light's ripples radiating from Axixa's arousal as long wet strands brush six nipples she offers to this ocean she suckles. Bring your bruises and open cuts as soft hands channel cool water's healing touch; feel safe; you have your life to regain. At Death's door, return at night to rest in Axixa's arms as she removes this world's pain, weaving your shroud from moonlight. K Enga (3.juin.2017) [174.116] /Day2.2/ For "30 Day Image Prompt Contest - CLOSED" 81,124 |
Light on tomes We search the mundane for what we want study the tomes of a million thoughts begging for magic that alludes us. Until a light shines on what we need, when what we want dissipates, concedes to Need's magic illumination. © Kåre Enga (1.juin.2017) [174.115] To the prompt: "Invalid Item" 81,122 |
Beyond the fog Two lines converge beyond the other side of tomorrow, where future's fog hides fruits of what we have wrought today. We walk tracks, balancing on rails, oblivious to youth that fades. We focus on the present tense, relaxed, rambunctious, unafraid of what we cannot see nor touch, merely mimic what we're told, then do whatever we must. We play along the tracks, balance on rails, oblivious to tarred pine ties that bind us and what lies beyond the fog tomorrow. © Kåre Enga (1.juin.2017) [174.114] Day 1 for "30 Day Image Prompt Contest - CLOSED" "Invalid Item" |
G7 Summit We all stand there and chatter about the hot weather, and whether and when and how we resist this great threat. We all gather together to take a group photo, get out of the way of one who aspires to be great. And that is the real problem, for those chosen to lead: we-all choose to love our world while one just chooses to hate. K Enga (27.mai.2017) [174.106] Note: really needs fixing but that will happen some other day. |
Driverless, the cab meanders... inspired by Stephen T Johnson The cab meanders through old haunts, revisiting red bricks covered by asphalt, the yellow ones now strewn with ivy. These old elms were young when the cab was young, when Checkers were the kings of taxis, for princes and princesses craving comfort, who sank ample butts into new cushions. Who rides there now if not their ghosts. The cab meanders from midnight till two. It has nothing better to do, and without a driver, goes where it wills, picking up passengers... whenever it chooses to. K Enga (30.may.2017) [174.113] Written at MPL, found in Redbook, p.35 |