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 |
July, 1935 His cousin drove up in his Pierce Arrow. while his other cousin, a slim vaquero, guided the bull. The possibility, now probability, was that something would go awry. He knew shit flew between those two, so he went to join his doe-eyed bride, inside. As he always said: He preferred his shoofly pie without the flies. When all was reduced, to clarify, like a side dish of butter-and-brains, all that remained now fit in a barrow full of manure, bone meal and marrow fit to compost for next year's garden out past the outhouse, near the pasture, next to the shiny Pierce Arrow resplendent over their graves. © Kåre Enga [177.121] (6.july.2020) 26 lines Prompts: - Arrow - Clarify - Possibility For:
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When we are ready It's the emptiness between our ears we fill with harmful fears, turning inward, raising walls harder than our skulls. But not to worry— Outer Space is in no hurry to invite us to the Universe beyond our earthly hearse. © Kåre Enga [177.119] (5.juli.2020) 8 lines, aabb ccdd rhyme Space: The Final Frontier For:
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