Archive for the ‘William Butler Yeats’ Category

Busy Bee   Leave a comment

Desert Museum“Busy Bee” Image by kenne

Life is full of beauty. Notice it.
Notice the bumble bee,
the small child,
and the smiling faces.
Smell the rain,
and feel the wind.
Live your life to the fullest potential,
and fight for your dreams.

— Ashley Smith

 

Souls Passing Like a Whiff of Air   Leave a comment

All Souls Procession“Souls of the Lost Visit Each Night” — Computer Art by kenne

I sometimes imagine that the souls of the lost

are compelled to walk through its streets perpetually.

One feels them passing like a whiff of air.

— William Butler Yeats

Tucson All Souls Procession, 2015   2 comments

Joy & Kenne (1 of 1)-2 blog

Joy and Kenne at the 2015 All Souls Procession — Images by kenne

Over the past year and a half Joy’s mother (Virginia) and my brother (Tom) passed away. To honor them, last night we participated in Tucson’s version of the Day of the Dead where tens of thousands of people in elaborate costumes walk in one of the nation’s largest processions honoring the deceased.  The All Souls Procession is a uniquely Tucson community event that was launched 26 years ago as a way for people to publicly grieve their lost ones in an artistic way.

kenne

 (Click on any of the gallery images to see larger view in a slideshow format.)

MIDNIGHT has come, and the great Christ Church Bell
And may a lesser bell sound through the room;
And it is All Souls’ Night,
And two long glasses brimmed with muscatel
Bubble upon the table. A ghost may come;
For it is a ghost’s right,
His element is so fine
Being sharpened by his death,
To drink from the wine-breath
While our gross palates drink from the whole wine.
I need some mind that, if the cannon sound
From every quarter of the world, can stay
Wound in mind’s pondering
As mummies in the mummy-cloth are wound;
Because I have a marvellous thing to say,
A certain marvellous thing
None but the living mock,
Though not for sober ear;
It may be all that hear
Should laugh and weep an hour upon the clock.

— from All Souls’ Night by William Butler Yeats

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