Saguaro Darkness — Image by kenne
Archive for the ‘Black & White Photography’ Category
Saguaro Darkness Leave a comment
Teacher Leave a comment
SCVN Teacher In Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
Teacher
Ideals are like the stars,
Always above our reach.
Humbly I tried to learn,
More humbly did I teach.
On all honest virtues
I sought to keep firm hold.
I wanted to be a good man
Though I pinched my soul.
But now I lie beneath cool loam
Forgetting every dream;
And in this narrow bed of earth
No lights gleam.
In this narrow bed of earth
Star-dust never scatters,
And I tremble lest the darkness teach
Me that nothing matters.
Always above our reach.
Humbly I tried to learn,
More humbly did I teach.
On all honest virtues
I sought to keep firm hold.
I wanted to be a good man
Though I pinched my soul.
But now I lie beneath cool loam
Forgetting every dream;
And in this narrow bed of earth
No lights gleam.
In this narrow bed of earth
Star-dust never scatters,
And I tremble lest the darkness teach
Me that nothing matters.
— Langston Hughes
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Cattail Leave a comment
Cattail — Image by kenne
Cattails stand like guards,
watching still water secrets—
wind forgets to speak.
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Coyote Fence Leave a comment
Coyote Fence In Doubtful Canyon — Image by kenne
I don’t know why the rooster keeps crying,
Nor why elephants keep raising their trunks,
Nor why Hawthorne kept hearing trains at night.
— from Living at the End of Time by Robert Bly
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Honeybee On Lemon Blossom 3 comments
Honeybee On Lemon Blossom (Potted Lemon Tree On Our Patio) Image by kenne
Desert \Spring haiku
What coarse winds, rise you?
Even to think, an untamed spark
May burn such sorrow.
— Andrew
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On The Manner Of Addressing Clouds 1 comment
Image by kenne
On the Manner of Addressing Clouds
Gloomy grammarians in golden gowns,
Meekly you keep the mortal rendezvous,
Eliciting the still sustaining pomps
Of speech which are like music so profound
They seem an exaltation without sound.
Funest philosophers and ponderers,
Their evocations are the speech of clouds.
So speech of your processionals returns
In the casual evocations of your tread
Across the stale, mysterious seasons. These
Are the music of meet resignation; these
The responsive, still sustaining pomps for you
To magnify, if in that drifting waste
You are to be accompanied by more
Than mute bare splendors of the sun and moon.
— Wallace Stevens
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New Orleans Girl 2 comments
Joy In A Jackson Square Restaurant for Lunch — Image by kenne
After-hours joints have closed
The music has faded away,
Even the horn player
In front of the cathedral.
A new world takes over,
The night people lost in the fog
As if hiding from the light
And the people of the dawn.
In Jackson Square, the show goes on
With the new day, a new act
Enters from stage left and right,
Carrying their daily wares.
This ritual, as old as the city,
Played out as people walk by,
Only briefly noticing a passing soul,
Neither greeting the other.
Protected by the levee
On the edge of the big muddy
Visitors wait for the man with the key
To open the Place d’Armes gates.
Entering the historical Jackson Park
Gazing on “Old Hickory,”
Leading the 1815 charge
In the Battle of New Orleans.
For many morning walkers
Passing through the square,
It is only a route to Café Dumonde
For chicory coffee and beignets.
— kenne
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I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud 1 comment
Lonely Clouds — Image by kenne
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
— William Wordsworth
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Saguaros, The Desert Of Picture Books Leave a comment
Saguaros — Image by kenne
Saguaros are the desert of picture books.
This is what a desert should be.
— kenne
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Not Enough 2 comments
Hot Air Balloons Over Sedona — Image by kenne
It is not enough
It is not enough to know.
It is not enough to follow
the inward road conversing in secret.
It is not enough to see straight ahead,
to gaze at the unborn
thinking the silence belongs to you.
It is not enough to hear
even the tiniest edge of rain.
You must go to the place
where everything waits,
there, when you finally rest,
even one word will do,
one word or the palm of your hand
turning outward
in the gesture of gift.
And now we are truly afraid
to find the great silence
asking so little.
One word, one word only.
— David Whyte
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Old Man In Morning Sunlight 1 comment
Old Man In Morning Sunlight — Image by kenne
At the start of day
Old man in morning sunlight
Thoughts on the moment.
— kenne
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End Of The Trail On Blackett’s Ridge Leave a comment
End Of The Trail On Blackett’s Ridge (11/04/11) — Image by kenne
Hiking Blackett’s Ridge
Steep inclines with little shade
Six miles up and back.
— kenne
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A Picture Of Love 1 comment
Great-Grandma Agnes Meets her Great-Granddaughter, Katelyn, for the first time (09/28/03) — Image by kenne
A picture of love
A smile and holding her hand
A very proud dad.
— kenne
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Patio Lights and Fountain In Black and White 2 comments
Patio Lights and Fountain In Black and White — Image by kenne
The free soul is rare, but you know it when you see it —
basically, because you feel good, very good,
when you are near or with them.
— Charles Bukowski
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An Oldie, But Goodie Leave a comment
‘An oldie, but goodie’ Conroe, Texas (10/16/05) — Image by kenne
Old festival days
Music and entertainment
For all to enjoy.
— kenne
