Archive for the ‘Capturing the Word’ Category
It Doesn’t Take A Lot Of Words To Speak The True Leave a comment
Mission San Xavier del Bac Leave a comment
Mission San Xavier del Bac (04/16/11) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
The White Dove Of The Desert
Imagine this:
Stranger
On horseback
Dark flowing rode
Moving in the breeze
Crossing
The desert southwest
Entering
The village of the
Desert people –
Tohono O’odham
Friendly people
Bonding
With the stranger –
Father Kino
Jesuit priest
Establishing
Third mission —
(Twenty-four total)
Upon which
The current church
Was built
Century later
Reflecting
Baroque architecture
Blossoming
In the desert blue sky
The White Dove
Of the Desert.
— kenne
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Another Mother’s Day 5 comments
Another Mother’s Day and Again I Post This Poem
HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!
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Houston Chronicle Article, October 2006 2 comments
A Framed Copy of an Article in the Community Section of the Houston Chronicle, October 2006
What began as the “Reading Series” at Montgomery College in 1993 evolved to become the “Writers In Performance” series
conducted by the Montgomery County Literary Arts Council (MCLAC). Over the years, many local poets, as well as national
poets, have read their poetry at Montgomery College. Since moving to Tucson 12 years ago, I haven’t had too many
opportunities to attend the series, which continues under the leadership of Cliff Hudder and Dave Parsons.
— kenne
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Signs Of Winter Leave a comment
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Hawk In Mesquite Tree Leave a comment
Cooper’s Hawk in Mesquite Tree — Painting by kenne
“For those of us who portray wildlife . . . our decision to persist in our quest for excellence is almost always based
on a love affair,
a fascination with the creatures of our planet, and a need to share this feeling the best way we know how.”
— Bob Kuhn (Wildlife Artist, One of the Tucson 7)
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Tom Markey Passed Away on August 17, 2022, RIP 6 comments
Tom Taking A Moment to Rest Before Setting Up Camp on Mica Mountain (April 2012) — Image by kenne
Remembering So Much, Yet So Little
We walked together as brothers
A shuffled pace totaled
Many unnumbered miles
Remembering so much, yet so little
I have known him for the last ten years
Reminding me of my brother,
It seemed like a lifetime
Remembering so much, yet so little
When we first met
We were in a hiking group
For me, all were strangers
Remembering so much, yet so little
He had that something
We all feel but can’t explain
As with the wistfulness of used books
Remembering so much, yet so little
Hiking dusty trails stirred only by our
steps,
A soft breeze unable to lift
The dust above our boots
Remembering so much, yet so little
Sharing a love of the wild
To hear sounds, see vistas
In the desert and sky islands
Remembering so much, yet so little
He was born with a feel for the moment
Making use of the incidentals
Whether invited or not
Remembering so much, yet so little
An eye for beauty and form
Where nothing is perfect
And everything is perfect.
Remembering so much, yet so little
Always ready to go farther afield
Looking for new trails – such as
The Hidden Pasture Trail
Remembering so much, yet so little
Meticulously researching new
adventures
Was a hobby driven by the belief
One knows the country through direct
contact
Remembering so much, yet so little
Possessing a diverse love of life
Sharing stories of youthful conquests
As the sunset only to be replaced by a
full moon
Remembering so much, yet so little
Dare not wave the punctual tissue of
farewell
He would reply with an insouciant
shrug
Therefore, I drink to you, my brother
Remembering so much, yet so little
For this is a path we will all take
On the Hidden Pasture Trail
It’s all part of nature’s plan
Remembering so much, yet so little
— kenne
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Churches Are Businesses, So Tax Them 1 comment
George Carlin — Source: The Milwaukee Independent
“I don’t know how you feel, but I’m pretty sick of church people. You know what they ought to do with churches? Tax them. If holy people are so interested in politics, government, and public policy, let them pay the price of admission like everybody else. The Catholic Church alone could wipe out the national debt if all you did was tax their real estate.”
— George Carlin
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Expectations: Tomorrow Is Not Promised Leave a comment
Photo-Artistry by kenne
Expectations
Who are you,
you who share
my very existence
with your expectations,
sometimes calling them
traditions,
placing more value
on the worth
of your expectations,
unwilling to understand
neither the what
nor the why
of my very being.
Who am I,
I who share
your very existence
with my expectations,
sometimes calling them
logical
placing more value
on the worth of my expectations,
unwilling to understand
neither the what
nor the why
of your very being.
Who are we,
we who share
a finite existence
with our expectations,
sometimes calling them
unconditional
placing more value
on the worth of our expectations
unwilling to understand
neither the what
nor the why
of a finite being.
Who are they,
they who share
our very existence
with their expectations,
sometimes calling them
laws
placing more value
on the worth of their expectations
unwilling to understand
neither the what
nor the why
of our very being.
Who are We
We who share
an infinite existence
with our expectations,
sometimes calling them
spiritual
placing more value
on the worth of all expectations
willing to understand
both the what
and the why
of a universal being.
— kenne
(. . . He celebrates and spurns
His driftwood eighty-first wind turned age;
Herons spire and spear.*)
*Dylam Thomas, “Poem On His Birthday”
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Garcia Lorca — Gacela of the Dark Death Leave a comment
August 19th, 1936 — Federico García Lorca dies. Andalusian poet/dramatist/artist. Murdered by Franco’s fascists.
Accused of subversive activity, however evidence today suggests that it was a hate crime in response to his homosexuality.
His writings remained censored until Franco died in 1975. Despite this, Lorca became one of the
most widely read writers in the world.
Gacela of the Dark Death
I want to sleep the dream of the apples,
to withdraw from the tumult of cemeteries,
I want to sleep the dream of that child
who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas?
I don’t want to hear again that the dead do not lose their blood,
that the putrid mouth goes on asking for water.
I don’t want to learn of the tortures of the grass,
nor of the moon with a serpent’s mouth
that labors before dawn.
I want to sleep awhile,
awhile, a minute, a century;
but all must know that i have not died;
that there is a stable of gold in my lips;
that i am the small friend of the West wing;
that i am the intense shadow of my tears.
Cover me at dawn with a veil.
because dawn will throw fistfuls of ants at me.
and wet with hard water my shoes
so that the pincers of the scorpion slide.
For i want to sleep the dream of the apples,
to learn a lament that will cleanse me of the earth;
for i want to live with that dark child
who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas.
— Federico Garcia Lorca
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Creosote Seed Pod 2 comments
Creosote Seed Pod — Image by kenne
If the blue sky is a fantasy,
what will become of innocence?
What will become of the heart
if Love has no arrows?
And if death is death,
what will become of poets?
and things in a cocoon
which no one remembers?
Oh sun of hopes!
Clear water! New moon!
Dull souls of stones!
Today I sense in my heart
a vague tremor of stars
and all roses are
as white as my sorrow.
— from Autumn Song by Federico García Lorca
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Hutch’s Pool Panorama Leave a comment
Hutch’s Pool — Two Images Merged in Photoshop by kenne (11/18/11)
Image by Phil Bentley as I Was Photographing Around Hutch’s Pool (11/13/15)
“A man who dares to waste one hour of time
has not discovered the value of life.”
―
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Tribute to Victims of COVID-19 Leave a comment
“. . . and once more saw the stars.”
Memorial image created from the names of COVID-19 victims for #WeGrieveTogether.
— Image: Elizabeth Perez
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Nais Metalmark 2 comments
Nais Metalmark Butterfly — Image by kenne
There are several species of small butterflies with an orange-brown base color, marked with black,
white and brighter orange. The metalmarks such as this one also have some metallic-looking specks
that are visible with changing light angle.
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Follow The Narrow Trail Leave a comment
Follow the Narrow Trail (The Tucson Mountains) — Image by kenne
No Name Trails
My trails don’t always have a name.
They are the ones on which I roam
Gathering new views to capture
Sharing with others who read books
And write poems on the earth and sky.
— kenne
