Photo-Artistry by kenne
“Nothing is important but Life. … things given full play,
or at least, they may be given full play,
when we realize that life itself,
and not inert safety, is the reason for living.”
— D. H. Lawrence
Archive for the ‘D.H. Lawrence’ Tag
Life In These Times Leave a comment
Spring Leave a comment
“Spring” — Photo Artistry by kenne
“There is a sixth sense . . . that is the sense of wonder.”
— D. H. Lawrence
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Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me! Leave a comment
Bee Approaching Blue Dicks Blossoms — Digital Art by kenne
Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me!
A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time.
If only I let it bear me, carry me, if only it carry me!
If only I am sensitive, subtle, oh, delicate, a winged gift!
If only, most lovely of all, I yield myself and am borrowed
By the fine, fine wind that takes its course through the chaos of the world
Like a fine, an exquisite chisel, a wedge-blade inserted;
If only I am keen and hard like the sheer tip of a wedge
Driven by invisible blows,
The rock will split, we shall come at the wonder, we shall find the Hesperides.
— from “Song of a Man Who Has Come Through” by D. H. Lawrence
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HAPPY NEW YEAR, 2017! 3 comments
Image by kenne
On this New Year’s day, taking notes from D. H. Lawrence.’s Fantasia of the Unconscious, I penned the following, with apologies to Lawrence:
New Year’s day,
Sunday at home
a light winter rain
refreshes the desert,
I ponder my mind,
psyche and soul,
whose trinity form
the powers of my
whole being
together speaking
in one voice, which
I can never deny.
When at last,
in all life’s storms,
my whole self speaks,
only to pause,
collecting itself into
pure silence and isolation –
perhaps after much pain,
the mind suspends
its knowledge, and waits.
It is then the psyche becomes
strangely still,
and after a pause,
there is a fresh beginning,
a new life adjustment
pushing a deep sigh
through every pore
fading into a mist —
a sense of mystery.
— kenne
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Elk At Grand Canyon Spring Water Fountain Leave a comment
Elk At Grand Canyon Spring Water Fountain (June 14, 2016) — Photo Essay by kenne
“There is a sixth sense . . . that is the sense of wonder.”
— D. H. Lawrence
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All Souls Day Selfie Leave a comment
All Souls Day Selfie — Grunge Art by kenne
All Souls
THEY are chanting now the service of All the Dead
And the village folk outside in the burying ground
Listen–except those who strive with their dead,
Reaching out in anguish, yet unable quite to touch them:
Those villagers isolated at the grave
Where the candles burn in the daylight, and the painted wreaths
Are propped on end, there, where the mystery starts.
The naked candles burn on every grave.
On your grave, in England, the weeds grow.
But I am your naked candle burning,
And that is not your grave, in England,
The world is your grave.
And my naked body standing on your grave
Upright towards heaven is burning off to you
Its flame of life, now and always, till the end.
It is my offering to you; every day is All Souls’ Day.
I forget you, have forgotten you.
I am busy only at my burning,
I am busy only at my life.
But my feet are on your grave, planted.
And when I lift my face, it is a flame that goes up
To the other world, where you are now.
But I am not concerned with you.
I have forgotten you.
I am a naked candle burning on your grave.
— D. H. Lawrence
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Capturing The Moment — Anna’s Hummingbird 7 comments
Anna’s Hummingbird — Images by kenne
Humming-Bird
by D.H. Lawrence
I can imagine, in some other world
Primeval-dumb, far back
In that most awful stillness,
That only gasped and hummed,
Humming-birds raced down the avenues.
Before anything had a soul,
While life was a heave of matter, half inanimate,
This little bit chipped off in brilliance
And went whizzing through the slow, vast, succulent stems.
I believe there were no flowers then,
In the world where the humming-bird flashed ahead of creation.
I believe he pierced the slow vegetable veins with his long beak.
Probably he was big
As mosses, and little lizards, they say, were once big.
Probably he was a jabbing, terrifying monster.
We look at him through the wrong end of the telescope of
Time,
Luckily for us.
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Capturing The Moment — Berylline Hummingbird At Bath Time Leave a comment
Berylline Hummingbird In Mountain Stream — Image by kenne
This Berylline hummingbird was freshening-up in the mountain stream above Marshall Gulch on Mount Lemmon.
kenne
Humming-Bird
I can imagine, in some otherworld
Primeval-dumb, far back
In that most awful stillness, that only gasped and hummed,
Humming-birds raced down the avenues.
Before anything had a soul,
While life was a heave of matter, half inanimate,
This little bit chipped off in brilliance
And went whizzing through the slow, vast, succulent stems.
I believe there were no flowers then,
In the world where the humming-bird flashed ahead of creation.
I believe he pierced the slow vegetable veins with his long beak.
Probably he was big
As mosses, and little lizards, they say, were once big.
Probably he was a jabbing, terrifying monster.
We look at him through the wrong end of the telescope of Time,
Luckily for us.
