Archive for the ‘Capturing the Moment’ Category

Cloud Ripples At Sunset   Leave a comment

Cloud Ripples At Sunset — Image by kenne

“Nature is orderly.
That which appears to be chaotic in nature
is only a more complex kind of order.”

— Gary Snyder

Nice Dress   1 comment

Nice Dress — Image by kenne

A little girl dreams

Moments searching for a gift

When she wants something.

— kenne

Saguaros In The Morning Haze   1 comment

Saguaros In the Morning Haze (02-04-13) — Image by kenne

The haze is lifting

Sun rising over the ridge

A new day has dawned.

— kenne

Bronc Rider   Leave a comment

Bronc Rider (02/15/14)– Image by kenne

Cowboys are known, to have a way of their own,
to sort out a sense of fair play.
You ride for the brand, or a shake of the hand,
that’s always been “The Cowboy Way”.

“The Cowboy Way” is not a phrase,
to be abused and misconstrued.
It’s a way of life, a reason to fight,
it’s a lifestyle through and through.

— from “The Cowboy Way” by Jim Liles

Great Horned Owl   Leave a comment

Great Horned Owl — Image by kenne

“A serious writer is not to be confounded with a solemn writer.
A serious writer may be a hawk or a buzzard or even a popinjay,
but a solemn writer is always a bloody owl.

— Ernest Hemingway

 

A Winter Sunset   3 comments

A Winter Sunset In The Sonoran Desert — Image by kenne

A Winter Sunset

The winds are blowing
across the winter sky
colors moving in this
land of the setting sun.

Lovers raise a glass of wine
hearts warmed by the colors
as they lay quietly together
embracing nature’s moment.

Other sunsets will happen
bringing passion and joy
each sharing day’s passing
with those who participate.

Sunsets are always new
generating energy called love
to be shared with someone
since the beginning of time.

— kenne

Ground Zero Blues Club   Leave a comment

Ground Zero Blues Club Memphis (01/21/10) — Abstract Art by kenne

“There are only two kinds of songs; 
there’s the blues,
and there’s zip-a-dee-doo-dah.”

— Townes Van Zandt

Another Glass Of Wine My Dear   Leave a comment

Another Glass Of Wine My Dear (April 5, 2007) — Image by kenne

Have Some Medeira, M’dear

She was young, she was pure, she was new, she was nice
She was fair, she was sweet seventeen.
He was old, he was vile, and no stranger to vice
He was base, he was bad, he was mean.
He had slyly inveigled her up to his flat
To view his collection of stamps,
And he said as he hastened to put out the cat,
The wine, his cigar and the lamps:
Have some madeira, m’dear.
You really have nothing to fear.
I’m not trying to tempt you, that wouldn’t be right,
You shouldn’t drink spirits at this time of night.
Have some madeira, m’dear.
It’s really much nicer than beer.
I don’t care for sherry, one cannot drink stout,
And port is a wine I can well do without…
It’s simply a case of chacun a son gout
Have some madeira, m’dear.
Unaware of the wiles of the snake-in-the-grass
And the fate of the maiden who topes,
She lowered her standards by raising her glass,
Her courage, her eyes and his hopes.
She sipped it, she drank it, she drained it, she did!
He promptly refilled it again,
And he said as he secretly carved one more notch
On the butt of his gold-headed cane:
Have some madeira, m’dear,
I’ve got a small cask of it here.
And once it’s been opened, you know it won’t keep.
Do finish it up.
It will help you to sleep.
Have some madeira, m’dear.
It’s really an excellent year.
Now if it were gin, you’d be wrong to say yes
The evil gin does would be hard to assess..
Besides it’s inclined to affect me prowess,
Have some madeira, m’dear.
Then there flashed through her mind what her mother had said
With her antepenultimate breath,
“Oh my child, should you look on the wine that is red
Be prepared for a fate worse than death!”
She let go her glass with a shrill little cry,
Crash!
Tinkle! it fell to the floor;
When he asked,
“What in Heaven?”
She made no reply,
Up her mind, and a dash for the door.
Have some madeira, m’dear.
Rang out down the hall loud and clear
With a tremulous cry that was filled with despair,
As she fought to take breath in the cool midnight air,
Have some madeira, m’dear.
The words seemed to ring in her ear.
Until the next morning, she woke in her bed
With a smile on her lips and an ache in her head…
And a beard in her lug ‘ole that tickled and said:
Have some madeira, m’dear!

Flanders and Swann




Ocotillos Show Signs Of Spring   Leave a comment

Ocotillo (Fouquieria splendens) Blossom in Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne

Very little rain in Sabino Canyon hasn’t stopped the cycles of life from taking place.
Most of the year, Ocotillos look like a bunch of gray sticks. But in the spring, are during the
summer monsoon season, the sticks leaf out. However, the red flame blossoms
only happen in the spring.

Ocotillo (Fouquieria splendens) Leaves — Image by kenne

Fouquieria splendens is a plant indigenous to the Sonoran Desert in the Southwestern United States
and northern Mexico. While semi-succulent and a desert plant, Ocotillo is more closely related to tea
and blueberries than cactuses. Source: Wikipedia

The Moments That Count   Leave a comment

Image by kenne

The Moments That Count!

West Texas   2 comments

West Texas — Photo-Artistry by kenne

I want to dance on your planes,
Twirl in the rain,
And let the drops fall between my lips like the crevices of your canyons,
Brought to life when you are,
Slumber when you do,
Live each day as you live,
My sweet West Texas.

— from West Texas by Emily Miller

First Time Fishing   4 comments

Fishing From the Boat Dock — Photo-Artistry by kenne

No bait,
only a bullet weight 

on the end of the line — 
does it really
matter to the boy?

A quiet boy
in a world
all his own
where silence
creates inwardness.

He was six
when this
photograph
was taken all
those years ago.

It’s easy to
wonder what he
was thinking —

‘what’ doesn’t matter
for they were pure.

It is these
moments
sliced out of time —
melancholy with
all its charms.

Moments exist,
otherwise

everything in life
would all happen
at once.

By watching and
connecting with
everything around me,
I have become a
connoisseur of empathy.

— kenne

The Trail Ahead   2 comments

The Trail Ahead — Photo-Artistry by kenne

What path will you take?
I wonder.
Was it over yonder?
Just maybe
It was over there.
Who knows?
You wonder — 
Here, there,
Everywhere.

— kenne

 

Ukulele ‘Catfish’ Keith   1 comment

Ukulele ‘Catfish’ Keith — Image by kenne

Jazzy tunes from the streets wafting through the window
Make me dance, fill my head with warm mist
Rhythmic drum beats and bold, steady percussion sound
Get my mind in a tangled up twist

All these tunes in a mix with some everyday sounds
Makes the city a musical place
Sounds of traffic and shouting and talking and walking
Intermingled with alto and bass

— from Street Music by Cicero Grey

A Man’s a Man for a’ That   Leave a comment

Old Man — Image by kenne

A Man’s a Man for a’ That

Is there for honest Poverty
That hings his head, an’ a’ that;
The coward-slave, we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a’ that!
For a’ that, an’ a’ that.
Our toils obscure an’ a’ that,
The rank is but the guinea’s stamp,
The Man’s the gowd for a’ that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an’ a that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine;
A Man’s a Man for a’ that:
For a’ that, and a’ that,
Their tinsel show, an’ a’ that;
The honest man, tho’ e’er sae poor,
Is king o’ men for a’ that.

Ye see yon birkie ca’d a lord,
Wha struts, an’ stares, an’ a’ that,
Tho’ hundreds worship at his word,
He’s but a coof for a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
His ribband, star, an’ a’ that,
The man o’ independent mind,
He looks an’ laughs at a’ that.

A Prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an’ a’ that!
But an honest man’s aboon his might –
Guid faith, he mauna fa’ that!
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
Their dignities, an’ a’ that,
The pith o’ Sense an’ pride o’ Worth
Are higher rank than a’ that.

Then let us pray that come it may,
As come it will for a’ that,
That Sense and Worth, o’er a’ the earth
Shall bear the gree an’ a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
It’s comin yet for a’ that,
That Man to Man the warld o’er
Shall brithers be for a’ that.

Robert Burns

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