What Is Poetry? — My Thoughts   1 comment

Mother8.13.05a-72“Mother” — Abstract Art by kenne

Decoding Poetry

Poetry,
what is it?
Is it not all things
we experience —

Feelings?
Thoughts?
Ideas?
Wisdom?
Beauty?
Music?
Art?
In human existence?

Yet,
some claim
the words of poetry,
as if anointed
announcing to the world,
“I know the code!”

Poetry is not a code,
allowing entrance
only to a few
fettered and packaged
for the scholarly.

If I experience
my life
in the words of another,
it is poetry?
For it is I
who holds the code
to my existence.

In the end,
there is no right
or wrong answer –
Poetry is like dancing,
if it feels good,
do it!

— kenne

Yesterday Was Emily’s Birthday   1 comment

Sadly, we missed Emily’s Birthday Celebration again this year. Over the years, it has become a real Montgomery County Literary Arts Council (MCLAC) tradition. Of course, it’s the friendships that we miss the most. We usually make it to the Houston area in December, but around Christmas.

“It sifts from Leaden Sieves –
It powders all the Wood.
It fills with Alabaster Wool
The Wrinkles of the Road –

— from “It sifts from Leaden Sieves – (291)” by Emily Dickenson

Becoming is Superior to Being

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Posted December 11, 2019 by kenneturner in Information

Twilight On The Mountain   Leave a comment

Mt Lemmon Cabins (1 of 1)-3-Edit-4-art-72Mountain Cabin — Photo-Artistry by kenne

Night, and I travelling.
An open door by the wayside,
Throwing out a shaft of warm yellow light.
A whiff of peat-smoke;
A gleam of delf on the dresser within;
A woman’s voice crooning, as if to a child.
I pass on into the darkness.

— Joseph Campbell

What?   2 comments

Joy and Kenne-72-art-Edit-2-72“What?” — Photo-Artistry by kenne

Habitation

 

Marriage is not
a house or even a tent

it is before that, and colder:

the edge of the forest, the edge
of the desert 
                    the unpainted stairs 
at the back where we squat 
outside, eating popcorn

the edge of the receding glacier

where painfully and with wonder
at having survived even
this far

we are learning to make fire 

Margaret Atwood

Friend, AJ Murphy   Leave a comment

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAFriend, AJ Murphy — Photo-Artistry by kenne

AJ Murphy past away 2003, a close friend
and the heart and soul of a young organization,
“Friends of The Blues, Montgomery County.”
In May of that year, the Friends held a celebration
at the Texas Arts Venue in downtown Conroe, Texas.
Click here for an article that appeared in the Houston Chronicle.

— kenne

Mental Health and Education   2 comments

As a former teacher, I praise every word in this posting. Teachers are in grave need of our support and respect. As a retired teacher, now volunteer naturalist, I spend time outdoors teaching kids about nature, the best job of my life. — kenne

Thoughts and Writings on Mental Health

The summer of 2004 I received a call from my best friend to pick him up from the hospital. He had been in the psychiatric unit for about a week for suicidal ideation. When I arrived he hugged me, had a smile on his face, and then wanted to show me around. I was surprised that I could come into where he was staying. I was introduced to a couple of staff members and a patient that he had gotten to know. I don’t remember her name, but I do remember her blond hair, pale round face, rectangle glasses, and how exhausted she looked. Her slumped shoulders, dark circles under her eyes, and defeated posture has been stained in my mind ever since. And she was a teacher. 

At the time, I wasn’t an educator. So, with my ignorance I remember thinking, “What is a teacher doing in the psychiatric…

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Posted December 9, 2019 by kenneturner in Information

A Solute To The Common Man   Leave a comment

The Common Man-Art-IMG-4747-72“The Common Man” — Photo-Artistry by kenne

Poetry and Music Soluting The Common Man.
Julian Tuwim’s poem nails it.
In my younger days,
I worked with many a Harlan Clancy —
Tom Russell writes and sings
about in the album “Folk Hotel,”
referencing Aaron Copland’s anthem,
“Fanfare for the Common Man.”

In those early days,
the winters could be harsh,
and having spent many
a Christmas in the cold north,
I end this trilogy to The Common Man
with Merle Haggard,
“If We Make It Through December.”

— kenne

The Common Man

When plastered billboards scream with slogans
‘fight for your country, go to battle’
When media’s print assaults your senses,
‘Support our leaders’ shrieks and rattles…
And fools who don’t know any better
Believe the old, eternal lie
That we must march and shoot and kill
Murder, and burn, and bomb, and grill…

When press begins the battle-cry
That nation needs to unify
And for your country you must die…
Dear brainwashed friend, my neighbor dear
Brother from this, or other nation
Know that the cries of anger, fear,
Are nothing but manipulation
by fat-cats, kings who covet riches,
And feed off your sweat and blood – the leeches!
When call to arms engulfs the land
It means that somewhere oil was found,
Shooting ‘blackgold’ from underground!
It means they found a sneaky way
To make more money, grab more gold
But this is not what you are told!

Don’t spill your blood for bucks or oil
Break, burn your rifle, shout: ‘NO DEAL!’
Let the rich scoundrels, kings, and bankers
Send their own children to get killed!
May your loud voice be amplified
By roar of other common men
The battle-weary of all nations:
WE WON’T BE CONNED TO WAR AGAIN!

Julian Tuwim

 

 

 

 

Tim Russell writes, Harlan Clancy
“. . . out there in the middle of Ohio,
a place you’ll never likely go . . .
Euro tourists never make it there . . .
the America of the shit jobs, farms,
remote ranches, wrecking yards,
inner-city brothels, shooting galleries,
used car lots, and back street bars that
still have Narco corridos, or Otis Redding,
or George Jones on the jukebox.” 

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