Archive for the ‘The Woodlands’ Category
“Wine for Two” — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Wine for Two
(May 2008)
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
forever changed to one.
kenne
Like this:
Like Loading...
Late Bloomer (Azalea) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
In early spring the south and gulf coast are abound with azalea blossoms. When we moved to the Arizona desert from the gulf coast, we brought along a potted azalea plant. Each spring our little plant had many blossoms. However this spring there were no blossoms. But much to our surprise in September one blossom emerged. — kenne
Like this:
Like Loading...
Lake Robbins Bridge on a Foggy/Frosty Morning– Photo Artistry by kenne (March 14, 2003)
Enough sun breaks through
The foggy/frosty morning
Misty white to gray.
— kenne
Like this:
Like Loading...
The Woodlands Artfest (April 2009) — Digital Art by kenne
Artfest in the woods
I don’t remember her name
A study in love.
— kenne
Like this:
Like Loading...
Foggy Morning (The Woodlands, Texas, March 2003) — Image by kenne
The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.
— Carl Sandburg
Like this:
Like Loading...
“Yardwork” — Art by kenne
“yardwork”
jade plant
in a clay pot
a child’s old
pinwheel
a horseshoe
and barbwire
forming
windmill art
filed as
c77a1.jpg
dated
12/25/2005
— kenne
Like this:
Like Loading...
Days of Running are Getting Fewer with Each Passing Day (April 2010)
Muddy Trails Bash 5k — Photos by Joy
My running has become walking 5k each day. Trying hard to hang on to what I still have.
My current goal is to not become one of the stumbling undead.
By the way, there are some things that do change for the better —
I no longer wear white crew socks.
— kenne
This poem was written by a 19-year-old English army officer, Charles Hamilton Sorley, during World War I.
The Song of the Ungirt Runners
We swing ungirded hips
And lighten’d are our eyes,
The rain is on our lips,
We do not run for prize.
We know not whom we trust
Nor whitherward we fare,
But we run because we must
Through the great wide air.
The waters of the seas
Are troubled as by storm.
The tempest strips the trees
And does not leave them warm.
Does the tearing tempest pause?
Do the tree-tops ask it why?
So we run without a cause
’Neath the big bare sky.
The rain is on our lips,
We do not run for prize.
But the storm the water whips
And the wave howls to the skies.
The winds arise and strike it
And scatter it like sand,
And we run because we like it
Through the broad bright land.
Like this:
Like Loading...
