Archive for the ‘Computer Art’ Category
Abstract Computer Art by kenne (2009)
You Have The Code
Poetry—
what is it?
A little of everything,
a lot of nothing,
the something that stirs
when you don’t have words.
It’s feeling, sure,
thoughts, ideas,
wisdom passed down
like hand-me-down shoes.
It’s beauty,
it’s music,
it’s art that breathes
right beside you.
It’s love,
it’s hate,
it’s fear on a Tuesday
& joy on a Friday.
It’s charity,
it’s greed,
it’s the whole messy creed
of being alive.
But still—
some folks claim
they know the secret handshake,
the password,
the code.
Poetry, they say,
belongs in books
with footnotes,
belongs to scholars
& saints.
But listen—
poetry ain’t code.
It’s not locked up,
not fenced in.
If you hear a line
& it sounds like your life,
your mother’s voice,
your lost summer—
that’s the poem.
Right there.
Because you are the code.
You are the key.
And in the end—
there is no wrong step.
Poetry is dancing.
If the beat feels good,
then move.
If the words feel right,
you’re already in it.
— kenne
(A revision of a poem written in 2009.)
Autumn Plants Down By The Wash — Computer Art by kenne
Layers rise,
a quiet geology of thought,
one over another.
Filters shift the air—
suddenly the world
tilts into a dream.
Even pixels
carry the weight of silence,
carry the hand of the artist.
Colored Foot Bridge — Image by kenne
“The footbridge does not dominate the plants of the scene, but exists within it, a symbol of
a human effort to connect with and access nature. This reminds us that the garden
is not naturally occurring but is a natural space paradoxically created artificially by humans.”
Honey Bee On Arizona Fleabane — Digital Art by kenne
my nature photos
masking layers of art filters
creating my art
digital painting
colors become transparent
blending together
i have become a
digital photo artist
uniting my hands
whatever my tools
technology empowers
the will and desire
i seek to be good
i seek to communicate
not to be perfect
i seek the duende
to find my kindred feelings
in all that i do
— kenne
Universal Flight” — Photo-Artistry by kenne
“When a person really desires something,
all the universe conspires to help that person to realize his dream.”
“. . .when we strive to become better than we are,
everything around us becomes better, too.”
“The closer one gets to realizing his destiny,
the more that destiny becomes his true reason for being.”
― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist
Composite Art by kenne
As we try to cope with this time in the age of the coronavirus,
Despondency, Despair, and Disappointment can assail us.
When this happens, we ask for Hope.
“Waving thy silver pinions o’er my head.”
To Hope
When by my solitary hearth I sit,
When no fair dreams before my ‘mind’s eye’ flit,
And the bare heath of life presents no bloom;
Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head.
Whene’er I wander, at the fall of night,
Where woven boughs shut out the moon’s bright ray,
Should sad Despondency my musings fright,
And frown, to drive fair Cheerfulness away,
Peep with the moon-beams through the leafy roof,
And keep that fiend Despondence far aloof.
Should Disappointment, parent of Despair,
Strive for her son to seize my careless heart;
When, like a cloud, he sits upon the air,
Preparing on his spell-bound prey to dart:
Chase him away, sweet Hope, with visage bright,
And fright him as the morning frightens night!
Whene’er the fate of those I hold most dear
Tells to my fearful breast a tale of sorrow,
O bright-eyed Hope, my morbid fancy cheer;
Let me awhile thy sweetest comforts borrow:
Thy heaven-born radiance around me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head!
Should e’er unhappy love my bosom pain,
From cruel parents, or relentless fair;
O let me think it is not quite in vain
To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air!
Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head!
In the long vista of the years to roll,
Let me not see our country’s honour fade:
O let me see our land retain her soul,
Her pride, her freedom; and not freedom’s shade.
From thy bright eyes unusual brightness shed—
Beneath thy pinions canopy my head!
Let me not see the patriot’s high bequest,
Great Liberty! how great in plain attire!
With the base purple of a court oppress’d,
Bowing her head, and ready to expire:
But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings
That fill the skies with silver glitterings!
And as, in sparkling majesty, a star
Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud;
Brightening the half veil’d face of heaven afar:
So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud,
Sweet Hope, celestial influence round me shed,
Waving thy silver pinions o’er my head.
— John Keats
Boat On Mountain Lake — Photo-Artistry by kenne
boat on mountain lake
the air is still at sunrise
a mirror at daybreak
— kenne
“Across the Pond” — Paris Las Vegas Photo-Artistry by kenne
The Eiffel tower
Wrought-iron lattice structure —
Stairway to heaven.
— kenne
Floating Leaves — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Floating Leaves
A light rain falls on leaves
Floating on the shallow water
Above the Sabino Creek dam
On a gray sky January day
Forgetfull of all except the silence.
— kenne
“The Town Cryer” — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Poetry is read by the lovers of poetry
and heard by some move they coax to the cafe
or the district library for a bifocal reading.
Lovers of poetry may total a million people
on the whole planet. Fewer than the players of skat.
— from “The Instrument” by Les Murray
Old Buildings, Virginia City, Nevada — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Hiking Buddies — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Hiking Buddies
Friendships developed
While hiking in the mountains
Can last forever.
— kenne
Western Sneezeweed Photo-Artistry by kenne
I myself do not believe in explaining anything.
— Shel Silverstein
Puerto Peñasco Sunset — Photo-artistry by kenne
If you sit down at set of sun
And count the acts that you have done,
And, counting, find
One self-denying deed, one word
That eased the heart of him who heard,
One glance most kind
That fell like sunshine where it went —
Then you may count that day well spent.
But if, through all the livelong day,
You’ve cheered no heart, by yea or nay —
If, through it all
You’ve nothing done that you can trace
That brought the sunshine to one face–
No act most small
That helped some soul and nothing cost —
Then count that day as worse than lost.
— George Eliot
Hiking Below The Ridge — Photo-Artistry by kenne
