Backyard Wall, The Woodlands, Texas (December 18, 2009) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
“Life has no meaning a priori…
It is up to you to give it a meaning,
and value is nothing
but the meaning that you choose.”
— Jean-Paul Sartre
Archive for the ‘The Woodlands’ Category
Backyard Wall — Ten Years Out Leave a comment
Morning Walk In The Woodlands — A Flashback, January 2006 Leave a comment
Morning Walk In The Woodlands, Texas (Joy, January 2006) — Image by kenne
Before moving to Tucson in 2010, we did a lot of walking and jogging in our home community, The Woodlands, Texas.
— kenne
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The Society Of The Fifth Cave Christmas Celebration, 2009 Leave a comment
The Society of the Fifth Cave Christmas Celebration, December 19, 2009
The Society of the Fifth Cave, “A Reading Club for the Non-Discriminating Bourgeoisie,” has existed in one form are another, since 1983. I became a member in 1998. The last time I was able to attend one of our monthly meetings was September 2012.
— kenne
“May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome,
dangerous, leading to the most amazing view.
May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.”
— Edward Abbey
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Mr. Joe — December 2003 Leave a comment
Mr. Joe (December 21, 2003) — Image and poem by kenne
This image and poem predate selfies and my blog.
Why is the poem addressed to “Mr. Joe?”
I have no idea.
“Do not seek answers
which cannot be given you . . .”
— kenne
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“Is It, Or Is It Not?” 1 comment
Foggy Morning — Photo-Artistry by kenne
“Is it, or is it not?”
Look Again,
The image you see
Is not what is.
Look again,
The image you see
Is not what was.
Look again,
The image you see
Is not what will be.
Look again,
The image you see
Is not what is real.
— kenne
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Wine for Two, Revisited Leave a comment
“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
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Late Bloomer 1 comment
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
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Lake Robbins Bridge 4 comments
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
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A Study In Love Leave a comment
The Woodlands Artfest (April 2009) — Digital Art by kenne
Artfest in the woods
I don’t remember her name
A study in love.
— kenne
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Foggy Morning Leave a comment
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
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“Yardwork” Art Leave a comment
“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
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Days of Running are Getting Fewer Leave a comment
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.
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Morning Walk In The Woods Leave a comment
Morning Walk in The Woodlands Texas, 2008 — Collage by kenne
Darkness in transition
Embracing the solitude
Pondering the moment
Filled with emotions
Posturing the thoughts
Consoled by pod music
Tempering the walk
Framed on the cover
Of the Rolling Stone
In the shadows of reality
Light in transition
Sharing the solitude
With morning shadows
Appearing in the light
Vanishing in the darkness
Stepping in alternation
Moving to the front
Moving to the back
Dancing to the music
In the shadows of reality
Kenne
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Been Here Before — A Valentine Message Leave a comment
Afternoon Delight — Image by kenne
I’ve been here before
known this place
walked this floor
lived here alone
before, I knew you.
You became my
photographic muse
an afternoon delight
laying on a bed of red
shadows of natural light.
Blue, blue windows
opened to the sky
clouds move by
casting moments
to dream by.
Morning would come
roosters crowing
at the break of dawn
sheets still damp
moments to live by.
Imagine yesterday’s
times we’ve shared
becoming memories
fueling our tomorrows
filled with timeless love.
Now, everyone can see
you belong to me
knowing it’s so
hard to love, still
we share the look
of satisfaction.
— kenne
(With thanks to Leonard Cohn.)
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A Solstice Night 1 comment
Winter Solstice (December 19, 2009, The Woodlands, Texas) — Computer Art by kenne
A solstice night
in the dead of winter,
strategically placed lighting
on the courtyard wall.
Dark shadows imprinted
beyond the naked trees,
in this gloomy season of mists,
concealing signs of winter’s damage,
where only ghosts abound.
Tomorrow morning
the low sun starts
a minute-by-minute journey back,
not behind, but within
it’s new spring companion.
But for now,
nature remains soulfully raw.
— kenne
