Archive for the ‘Carl Sandburg’ Tag
“The Worker” — Image by kenne
I AM the people — the mob — the crowd — the mass.
Do you know that all the great work of this world is
done through me?
I am the workingman, the inventor, the maker of the
world’s food & clothes.
I am the audience that witnesses history. The Napoleons
come from me & the Lincolns. They die. &
then I send forth more Napoleons & Lincolns.
I am the seed ground. I am a prairie that will stand
for much plowing. Terrible storms pass over me.
I forget. The best of me is sucked out & wasted.
I forget. Everything but Death comes to me &
makes me work & give up what I have. & I forget.
Sometimes I growl, shake myself & spatter a few red
drops for history to remember. Then — I forget.
When I, the people, learn to remember, when I, the People
use the lessons of yesterday & no longer forget
who robbed me last year, who played me for
a fool — then there will be no speaker in all the world
say the name: “The People”, with any fleck of a
sneer in his voice or any far off smile of derision.
The mob — The crowd — The mass — will arrive then.
— Carl Sandburg
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Shuttered Blue Window (Tucson, Arizona) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
“I live on Earth at present, and I don’t know what I am.
I know that I am not a category. I am not a thing — a noun.
I seem to be a verb, an evolutionary process —
an integral function of the universe.”
― R. Buckminster Fuller
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Sunset — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Sunsets
There are sunsets that whisper a good-by.
There is a short dusk and a way for stars.
Prairie and sea rim they go level and even
And the sleep is easy.
There are sunsets that dance good-by.
They fling scarves half to the arc,
To the arc then and over the arc.
Ribbons at the ears, sashes at the hips,
Dancing, dancing good-by. And here sleep
Tosses a little with dreams.
— Carl Sandburg
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7:00 am View From Our Patio — Recent Fullmoon Setting Photo-Artistry by kenne
“The moon is friend for the lonesome to talk to.”
― Carl Sandburg
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Sandpipers — Image by kenne
Sandpipers
Sandland where the salt water kills the sweet potatoes.
Homes for sandpipers-the script of their feet is on the sea shingles —
they write in the morning,
it is gone at noon-they write at noon,
it is gone at night.
Pity the land, the sea,
the ten mile flats,
pity anything but the sandpiper’s wire legs and feet.
— Carl Sandburg
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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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My Neighborhood — Computer Painting by kenne
Love your neighbor as yourself,
but don’t take down the fence.
— Carl Sandburg
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Windswept Grasslands in the Santa Catalina Mountains — Image by kenne
Taking inspiration from the likes of Lewis Carroll, Robert Frost and Carl Sandburg.
Branches reach into the dark sky
over windswept grasslands,
directing our eyes and ears
to the relationship between
the living and the dead.
— kenne
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Fairy Duster — Image by kenne
Fairy Dusters dance to the mountain winds
dusting the air with the magic of color
staging the return of spring.
— kenne
”Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.”
— Carl Sandburg
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Fall leaves and moss on an old tree stump, Mt. Lemmon. — Image by kenne
these people of the air
these people of the wind,
has a sense of where to go and how,
how to go north north-by-west north,
till they came to one wooden pole,
till they were home again.
— from The People, Yes, by Carl Sandburg
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Image by kenne
Branches reach into the dark sky
over windswept grasslands,
directing our eyes and ears
to the relationship between
the living and the dead.
Taking inspiration from the likes of Lewis Carroll, Robert Frost, and Carl Sandburg.
— kenne
32.270209
-110.860703
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Becoming is Superior to Being 