Digital kenne On His Birthday
He celebrates and spurns
His driftwood eighty-forth wind turned age
— lines from Poem On His Birthday by Dylan Thomas
Archive for the ‘Dylan Thomas’ Category
On My Birthday 8 comments
He celebrates and spurns
Low Clouds In The Catalina Mountains Leave a comment
Low Clouds In The Santa Catalina Mountains Panorama — Image by kenne
And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house
Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless ways,
My wishes raced through the house high hay
And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows
In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs
Before the children green and golden
Follow him out of grace,
Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.
— from Fern Hill Dylan Thomas
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Grilling On New Year’s Day Leave a comment
Kenne David Turner Grilling On His Birthday, January 1st — Image by kenne
“This sandgrain day in the bent bay’s grave
He celebrates and spurns
His driftwood forty-eighth wind turned age;
Herons spire and spear.”
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Foggy Morning Birthday On Tanuri Ridge 1 comment
Foggy Morning Birthday On Tanuri Ridge — Image by kenne
This sandgrain day in the bent bay’s grave
He celebrates and spurns
His driftwood eighty-second wind turned age;
Herons spire and spear.
— An age modification from Poem On His Birthday by Dylan Thomas
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American Snout Butterfly Leave a comment
American Snout Butterfly — Image by kenne
“A good poem helps to change the shape and significance of the universe,
helps to extend everyone’s knowledge of himself and the world around him.”
—Dylan Thomas
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Gray Heron 1 comment
Gray Heron (Benson Sculpture Garden) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
And I rose
In a rainy autumn
And walked abroad in shower of all my days
High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
Over the border
And the gates
Of the town closed as the town awoke.
―
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“Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light.” Leave a comment
Red Sky at Sunset –“Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light.” — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
— Dylan Thomas
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Anything Can Happen Here Amigo 1 comment
Image by kenne
“I hold a beast, an angel, and a madman in me,
and my enquiry is as to their working,
and my problem is their subjugation and victory,
down throw and upheaval,
and my effort is their self-expression.”
— Dylan Thomas
