Archive for the ‘Houston’ Category

Archie Bell at Ken and Mary’s Blues Project — Part III   Leave a comment

Archie Bell-1632 art II_blogArchie Bell at Ken & Mary’s Blues Project — Computer Art by kenne

Houston, Texas has a lot of legionary musicians, not the lease is Archie Bell. You all timers, like myself will remember the 50’s & 60’s group, Archie Bell & the Drells. Remember “Tighten Up?” When it comes to great R&B, Archie Bell is among the best! His appearance at Ken & Mary’s Blues Project — The Last Waltz was a real blessing for those of us who have attended the Blues Project concerts over the years.

There’s more to come.

kenne

 

Blues Project — Part II   Leave a comment

Blues Project Art blogKen & Mary’s Blues Project — The Last Waltz
Computer Art by kenne

Down the east Texas road,
there is rain in the wind
as the musicians’ setup
for an evening of the blues
with friends gathering 
the last time at 
Ken and Mary’s Blues Project,
the best house concert ever.

In recent years we’ve missed
some of the concerts in
the woods 
having moved
to the desert southwest,
then last February we received
word of the “Last Waltz”
for the Blues Project —
plans were made to immediately.

With Coleman cooler,
yard chairs 
and
cameras in tow

we walked over old
bottle caps toward the  

Blues Project stage,
to be greeted with 
hugs and kisses — Welcome!

Mary announced the food
was ready and Ken shared some
background on the beginning
of what became the Blues Project.
Not long after 
the music began,
lighting lit up the darkening clouds
with thunder adding to
the magical evening.

Other than an occasional
drop or two, the music played on
until, as if the plugged was pulled,
the dark sky began to fall.
A rain delay was called
as the tarps were brought out
to covered the equipment.

Using our smartphones
we could see radar showing
the rain would be lasting
for an hour or more.
As has happened in the past,
the musicians gathered inside
to continue an evening of music.

Most of those who remained
were inside or on outside porches,
knowing the best of the evening
was yet to come —
jamming the night away
on a hot, humid night
in the piney woods of east Texas.

It may be the last waltz
for the Blues Project
but that don’t mean
the party is over,
the music still plays on
and on, and on — may
we stay forever young.

We’ve got to go, but our friends will stick around.

— kenne

 

 

 

 

 

Moe Hansum Band @ Ken & Mary’s Blues Project — The Last Waltz, 2017 Part I   Leave a comment

The blues is life itself.

— Billy Gibbons

Images and Video by kenne

Wine for Two In East Texas   Leave a comment

Wine for Two-1137_art blogWine for Two in East Texas — Computer Art kenne

Wine for Two

Picture this,
the setting sun
beaming streams of light
through the trees.

Occasionally moving
with the breeze,
sending beams dancing
across the glass tabletop.

Captured for the moment
in two glasses of wine,
only to be released forever
to the hearts of each lover.

A visual of the mind
Seeking a mindless void
For each heart to fill
but a fragment of the matrix

The new field of vision
Changing the way things are seen.
The glasses in the picture
are forever changed to one.

kenne

The Perfect Trilogy — Blues, Beer, And Tits   Leave a comment

Gene @ Drafter'sLady Bikers at an Ice House in East Texas in a “Show Us Your Tits” Contest — Computer Art by kenne

The Perfect Trilogy

On a hot Sunday 
we ride a twisting
two-lane highway to
a Texas Ice House
Near Cut & Shoot
where the beer
and blues music
releases bikers
inner desires
listening to 
“My Baby Don’t
Wear No Panties”
fueled by women
showing their tits —
blues, beer, and tits,
the perfect trilogy.

— kenne

Blackberry Season In East Texas — Photo Essay   Leave a comment

Blackberry Season In East Texas — Photo Essay by kenne

A walk in East Park

Thick woods where the swamp drains

Into the river.

— kenne

Remembering Mother, Agnes — Mother’s Day, 2017   1 comment

motherchristmaslucus03-12-21-31-blog-iiMother, Grandmother, Great-Grandmother, Agnes. 

(The following was originally written and posted September 5, 2012.)

Willie Agnes Poe passed away (September 8, 2006) after three months fighting post-surgery infection. During the last few weeks of Mother’s life, she shared stories of her childhood and often talked about playing with her close childhood friend, Fern.  (They remained close throughout life.)

“We had so much fun playing in the cemetery — Can you take me back to the cemetery on the hill?’ she would ask.  “I can see the man in black with a big black dog,” she would go on.

In her last days, the man in black visited her.  As we were talking, she looked straight ahead, “…see him, he is here!  Don’t you see him?”  Then she would turn and ask, “Can you bring me a big black dog?  I want a big dog!  Can you get one for me?”

“Yes, we can,” would be my reply,  We were making arrangements for Jill to bring one of their black labs by for Mother, just two days before she passed on.

On August 26, 2012, the family gathered in The Woodlands to celebrate the life of Willie Agnes Poe, which involved a brunch at Cru’ Wine Bar and a gathering at the pedestrian bridge over Grogan’s Mill Road.

After moving to The Woodlands in the mid-1980’s, Mother would walk the trails from her Grogan’s Landing apartment, which included the pedestrian bridge in a six-mile walk around the TPC golf course. Over time, Mother became functionally blind, limiting the trail walking, but not her walking. Early each morning she would spend a couple of hours walking back and forth over the pedestrian bridge. Our gathering at the bridge ended with a symbolic walk over Agnes’ bridge.

Why this celebration now? Because Mother had donated her body to the Texas Medical Center after her death, we didn’t have a family gathering to celebrate her life. It was our understanding that Mother’s ashes would be sent to us 2-3 years after her death. As it turned out, we didn’t receive her ashes till this past May.

alabama2006-11-13-45-hall-cemetery-blogHall Cemetary

Several months after Mother’s death we got word that her brother, J.C. had died.  I knew immediately we were going to Alabama.   How I know just how important it was to bring closure on the Mother’s life. While in Alabama, Joy and I made a point of going to Lincoln, then two miles out to the country church and cemetery in Refuge.  She was always at her happiest when talking about her childhood in Alabama, even more so during her last days with us.  She always wanted to go back but knew she would only be able to in her vision of those childhood memories. It doesn’t go unnoted that with the importance of Hall Cemetery in Refuge, Alabama, Mother didn’t desire to be buried there. For her, a higher priority was to give her body to medicine.

While visiting Hall Cemetery, I wanted so to turn around and see two little girls playing in the cemetery on the hill – to see the man in black with the big dog – to hear the laughing, and see the joy when the big dog came running to the children.  Instead, Joy and I walked silently, on this sunny fall morning through the small cemetery on the hill, which now represents the burial-place of the last surviving member of the Confederate army. As fate would have it, as we walked through Hall Cemetery, a black dog appeared.

By making the journey to Hall Cemetery, I have for my life captured the feeling of two little girls laughing and playing in a world that never vanished from Mother’s vision of happiness.  Real or not, it was real for her – now it is real for me, and I might add, Joy.

kenne

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A Celebration Of Life

“When the child was a child, it didn’t know
It was a child
Everything for it was filled with life and all life was one
When the child, when the child
The child, child, child, child, child
And on and on and on and on, etc. And onward
With a sense of wonder
Upon the highest hill. Upon the highest hill
When the child was a child
Are you there
Shassas, shassas
Up on a highest hill
When the child was a child, was a child, was a child
Was a child, was a child, was a child, etc.
… and it’s still quivering there today”

 —from, Song of Being A Child. Music by Van Morrison, Words by Peter Handke

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