Looking back in time (March 2011) — kenne
Images by kenne
Tucson Mountain’s Cam-Boh Trail Leave a comment
Birdfeeder Leave a comment
Birdfeeder — Photo-Artistry by kenne
If you don’t like something, change it.
If you can’t change it, change your attitude.
— Maya Angelou
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The Ultimate Human Freedom . . . Leave a comment
“Japanese Garden” (The Huntington, San Marino, California) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Every human has four endowments —
self-awareness,
conscience,
independent will,
and creative imagination.
These give us the ultimate human freedom…
The power to choose, to respond, to change.
— Stephen Covey
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Prickly Poppy Poem Leave a comment
Beauty along the highway. — kenne
Southwestern Prickly Poppy — Images by kenne
PRICKLY POPPY HIGHWAY
On a hot scenic highway
In Arizona’s wine countryside
We talk with little to say
Just a relaxing Saturday ride.
Rain is long overdue
In the mile-high rolling grassland
Soon we will stop for a brew
Under a slow turning saloon fan.
Spring flowers now long gone
Still, one blooms along roadsides
Knowing how to hold on
Becoming our desert road guide.
Wrinkled crêpe paper petals
Leaves covered with sharp spines
This prickly poppy can be a devil
Of herbal medicine in this land of wine.
— kenne
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Ken & Mary’s Blues Project — A Flashback Leave a comment
Ken & Mary’s Blues Project (11/16/09) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
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He Plays To His Shadow 2 comments
He Plays To His Shadow (Afternoon Drinks On the Copper Queen Saloon Balcony)
— Photo-Artistry by kenne
On A Bisbee Afternoon
he plays to his shadow
devotedly on his violin
nobody listens
love torturing itself
to rise above conversations
lost in discontent
limits of self-expression
a saloon window reflection
there is no tragedy
on the Queen’s saloon balcony
the smell of lavender
lingers from the ghosts
of the hotel whores
who are not indifferent
listening to classical strings
becoming a delightful moan
— kenne
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Greater Roadrunner — Listen! 1 comment
Greater Roadrunner Photo-Artistry by kenne
Listen!
The gravel verge bears a walker:
I hear chewing of shredded wheat.
Listen!
Birds call from dawn to sundown:
tedious mourning dove blues,
cactus wren’s grinding starter,
darting quail high notes: Uh-huh-Uh huh,
Hey-you! alert – the thrasher arrives.
Listen!
Our homes hum tones tiny to tremendous;
stretched and still in darkness,
I seek their source, finding some
in the pestling of brain, bones, molars.
Listen!
Attending too, to unfulfilled utterances:
hesitations, head dips, hand flutters,
the staccato of unsettled eyes and breath:
these voiceless notes of soul speak
of love or loss or the deep water strokes
of living without answers.
Listen!
Listen! poem (c)2020 Deborah Chappa
(Used by Permission)
