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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 |
| I'm leaving I was leaving. I didn't leave. It was winter didn't go far. I wanted to run away... ran off to college had a miserable time I couldn't stay, so I ran further away. Why did I leave? What was my search? I found it whatever it was And healed whatever that was and began to smile. What did I find? Was it enough? I dreamt dreams are so tricky. I left when winter became spring. Was I happy. No. Did I stay. Yes. For years I was happy being unhappy. I wanted to leave. so I left. Left my troubles behind... didn't take long for them to find me Again and again and again. I once had a neighbor who played the harp known as Serenity just like her harp. But I never found the peace I searching for. I'm leaving each time searching for something. I'm leaving my troubles are packed. I've never been able to leave them behind. © Kåre Enga (29.juni.2025) 38 lines inspired by the Beatles "She Leaving Home" (1967) For
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For AniPon "Everything is Everything"  I didn't like the prompt as 'speaking in tongues' has negative implications for me. I found the song intriguing and use of rap appropriate but its busy-urban background noise annoys me. I live in silence, seek calm, avoid the drama swirling around me... as best I can. Let's love ourselves and we can't fail To make a better situation Tomorrow, our seeds will grow Tomorrow, our seeds will grow Built on failed dreams, frustration, we fear for the future of our nation no tears needed, no explanation will answer questions you ignored. Do we reap from what we sow? Tomorrow, our seeds will grow! Trashed by doubts and blurry vision by dog-eat-hotdog competition we now let go of our divisions to welcome peace into our homes. where we will act upon our prayers more than empty words that snare the unwary weary; now we dare to freely offer our solutions. Do we reap from what we sow? Tomorrow, our seeds will grow! No time for fatalistic thoughts; no time for empty dreams we bought. No would've, could've, should've, oughts. No time for obfuscation. We will reap the peace we sow. Tomorrow, our seeds will grow. © Kåre Enga (29.juni.2025) 22 lines 125,269 views |
| Blown away by truth Love blinds me in an instant I want him. I need him. Sense fading in the distance. I hide behind my walls, balance on his parapet, frightened of the fall. I seek what I can hold careful not to crush him, shy and timid, never bold. But then he sees me, frowns. I stand frozen in his glare, melting, seek to drown. So, I light a match, then dash, my torch flaming, burning, reducing reality to ash. Embers seen from a distance, glow where once love grew, extinguished in an instant, blown away by truth. © Kåre Enga (7.juni.2025) 19 lines prompted by the Beatles "For No One"(1966) Poetics: axa bxb cxc dxd exe afaf For
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| Birches and blossoms Eyes wide open a child climbs the birch — blue robin eggs The pines have sheltered the deer, the robin, from ice, the melt, the chill, now spring has found the birch greening branches, enticing sparrows, finches and robins to move to a new perch. Come summer, dense shade of the maple, and the damp leaf mold, provide a home for bugs and worms for generations of wings that adorn the trees like autumn leaves among the gold. Now the winds of winter lulls all to sleep under a blanket of snow. Yet life persists in nooks and crannies, slowly marking the days until the sun returns when the impatient plums send out buds and bloom. robin flitting among plum blossoms — old man with a cane © Kåre Enga [182.] (7.juni.2025) 27 lines |
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