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 |
Anarchy This is how it started: a ring of stones, cold bare earth, a campfire lit meant to shed some light, some warmth, some heat, enough to boil water, brew the coffee, steep the tea, enough to awaken this world that preferred to sleep. And this how it ended: an errant scrap of paper lit then borne aloft carried on the wind to where the waiting tinder glowered, welcomed its glow its light, its power to fire the imagination of the angry world, enough to burn it up, enough to burn it down. © Kåre Enga (21.oktober.2021) [174.256] 22 lines For
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PPC#19 As the sky lowers [257] (dream dust) As the sky lowers Dreamdust sifted over embers — a desperate attempt to assuage the dying fire. Oh to live and die again! Before it was cut the tree had provided shade while a child attempted to touch the sky flying high on her swing. Now logs die to keep her warm snug under an worn-out afghan she once wove — long ago. Dare we ask what were her dreams, what now her future — as the sky lowers to caress her flesh and kiss her cheek. © Kåre Enga (21.oktober.2021) [174.257] 14 lines For:
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