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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 |
| "O God, make me a hollow reed, through which the pith of self hath been blown, so that I may become a clear channel through which Thy love may flow to others." is part of a prayer that Baha'is often use, although its attribution is not totally verifiable. However... Flute This hollow reed is spent. No melody now leaves its lips; no harmony accompanies it. Pith has choked its vent. And yet it sings of love, albeit slightly out of tune, dying, does not relent, refusing to go mute. © Copyright 2024 Kåre Enga [180.xxx] (15.februar.2024) For "Express it in Eight". |
| Bring the dawn Darkest magic looms at noon, sucking goodness out of life, surviving in dark corners all day and night, thrives within that darksome space where soft-hearts no longer bide. And worse — it roams abroad, no longer hides. © Copyright 2024 Kåre Enga (16.januar.2024) |
| Split pea soup He said "split this atom", and so she did. He said "split this Adam", and so she did. My grandmother split green peas, Oh, yes, she did. We sopped up soup with fresh baked bread. Oh, yes, we did. © Kåre Enga (14.januar.2024) [180.xxx] 109.998 blog views |
| Talisman This rock... so nondescript. No one has used it to write — nor yet written on it. Too dull to notice, too hard to smite, too soft and yet — once split it reveals light, a reflection of amethyst. On inspection, unworldly bliss. © Copyright 2024 Kåre Enga (9.januar.2024) |
| Flight of the poet Boulder: too uptight. Colorado now outta-sight, receding in the rear-view mirror. Two-thousand-four... Illinois bound — to lick my wounds. Twenty years ago, I wanted to die — the end of the road came in Kansas. After a lost four years, that I somehow survived, a colder view of life and a pile of poems stuck in a folder. © Copyright 2024 Kåre Enga (7.januar.2024) |
| Caught in my eye Green specks reflect the reality before me; white coats sad memories, fogs the hardening lens What can be seen clearly through my heart matters most, for neither coins nor seconds will buy us more time. I dream of the future, reminisce 'bout the past, only plan for this moment, as long as it lasts. I see green surround me as I swivel my head, hope that the place where I'll lie grows green when I'm dead. © Copyright 2024 Kåre Enga (6.januar.2024) |
| There comes a hardening... To the veins that control the flow of oxygen to old toes and feeble brains. And to the gaze tired of the same-old-s***, the same lame excuses from dim lives poorly lit. © Copyright 2024 Kåre Enga [180.xxx] (5.januar.2024) |
| Junk I take my broken pieces reattach them to myself to hide those names you call me, erase those labels you use to define me. I defy your jealousy and hatred, heal the inner hurt, hide it where no one looks, and remind you — God don't make junk. KE. (31.desember.2023) 9 lines Edited and posted in
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| Teeth of a dog When I lie there dead do not look at my rotting teeth. Once... I was young with a mouth full of ivory, smiling at the world that did not smile on me. Do not notice the wrinkles or the bloating flesh. Forget the hair that falls out like a leaf that's spent. Look at me with dignity like I looked at others. Remember me petting an eager dog, wagging its tail, and hoping for love. Witness how the ornery cat came to me in time. Patience my friend, love and patience win. Reminisce how I stopped to watch the butterfly escaping the myna bird's beak. Or how each orchid shared its glory for a week even when no one but me stopped by. When I lie there dead, cover my ugliness if you must, until my body returns to dust; know that my soul has fled. Kare Enga [180.xxx] (30.desember.2023) 30 lines Edited and posted as "Teeth of a dog"  for "Share Your Faith" Note: This is based on what 'Abdu'l Baha wrote in a letter in 1913. It is quite familiar to Baha'is as a caution to look at the good qualities in others. "...you enquire about the source of a story concerning Christ that was told by 'Abdu'l-Bahá. Your message was subsequently referred to the Research Department, which has indicated that the narrative which describes Christ's "sin-covering gaze" when He encountered "the dead body of a dog", is published in "Selections from the Writings of 'Abdu'l-Bahá". Although the story is not part of Christian tradition, nor does it appear in the Qur'án, the Research Department advises that its source can be traced to Islamic traditions as it occurs frequently in Muslim literature." https://bahaiforums.com/t/teeth-of-the-dog.2458/ |
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