We drove through Copperknoll, our old neighborhood in The Woodlands, Texas and spotted another visitor.
— Heron image by kenne (May 5, 2015)
I mozy, do you?
Long legs moving straight ahead,
Waddle side to side.
— kenne
Archive for the ‘D800’ Tag
A Visitor In The Old Neighborhood 3 comments
Bass Boat Blues On The Bayou Leave a comment
Fishing on the Bayou — Image by kenne
Bass Boat Blues
me and my bass boat
all alone on the bayou
moments to live by.
in bayou country
there are no mountains to climb
just tiny ant hills.
the fish are biting
only they are not keepers
ask me if I care.
for people who know
it is the process that counts
no more, no less — Yes!
green covers side streams
turtles on the backs jump in
breaking up the green.
mercy, mercy me
it is time to be truthful
I don’t care to fish.
I am the guy
carrying a camera
walking the park trails.
it’s time with nature
my breakfast at Tiffany’s
in the great outdoors.
— kenne
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Desert Balloons 5 comments
Brittlebush Blossoms Along a Trail– Image by kenne
DESERT BALLOONS
I was walking this trail
holding strings to many
helium filled balloons.
a trail runner asks;
how come you are walking
with all those balloons?
I’m a wildflower, I said;
can’t you tell,
I’m connected to them.
he looked at me
not sure what I was —
I just looked back.
— kenne
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I awaken in time . . . Leave a comment
Southern Magnoia Blossom — Image by kenne
I awaken in time for an
early morning run,
magnolia blossoms opening
in the muggy east Texas air
moving in from the gulf
pushed by squall lines
full of moisture dropping occasionally
as I ran the Kingwood streets
lined with excessively large homes
and yards carved carefully
out of the woods,
having created a tragedy
of what was home
for what was meant to be
before society
forgot what it means
to embrace existence
without creating
self-imposed angst
in an irrational universe –
I keep on running
and running
and running
and running
— kenne
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Curve-billed Thrasher Leave a comment
Curve-billed Thrasher Perched on a Mesquite Tree Limb in Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
This curve-billed Thrasher
Open against the blue sky
Dignity abounds.
–kenne
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“Just Like A White Winged Dove” 5 comments
White winged doves plays an important role in the life-cycle of saguaro cactus, loving the nectar of the the saguaro flower.
Here, this white winged dove appears to be patiently waiting for the buds to open. — Image by kenne
“Just like the white winged dove
Sings a song
Sounds like she’s singin’
Whoo-whoo-whoo
Just like the white winged dove
Sings a song
Sounds like she’s singin’
Whoo, baby, whoo
Said, whoo”
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Southern Magnolia Blossoms and My Whitman Muse Leave a comment
Southern Magnolia Blossom, Kingwood, Texas — Image by kenne
The hot hazy sun
A southern magnolia
And bourbon whisky
I surrender now
As luring blossoms open
Breast cleavage softness
Afternoon delight
Gives rise to my Whitman muse
Literary trysts
— kenne
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You Come To Me At Night 2 comments
“You Come To Me At Night” (Night-blooming Cereus photo by Jeffery Banfield) — Computer Art by kenne
a lady of the evening
you come to me
in a mid-summer night’s
dream
unnoticed
in your disguise
a lonely phallic
only to open
giving off an
attractive
musky
and natural scent
with an O’Keeffe
aura of sexuality
desiring my seed —
nothing more.
. . . keep dreaming.
— kenne
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Cactus Picnic Area & “Poetry” Leave a comment
Road to the Cactus Picnic Area In Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
poetry
by Charles Bukowski
it
takes
a lot of
desperation
dissatisfaction
and
disillusion
to
write
a
few
good
poems.
it’s not
for
everyone
either to
write
it
or even to
read
it.
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Desert Rosemallow Leave a comment
Desert Hibiscus — Image by kenne
Not yet open,
Still open just enough
To be tempting.
Slowly the pale paddles
Slide open exposing its colors,
Light lavender to light pink.
My cup of joy
A cradle of love,
Moment of bliss.
— kenne
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“Lay down these words . . .” 1 comment
Bear Canyon Creek, Santa Catalina Mountains — Images by kenne
RIPRAP
Lay down these words
Before your mind like rocks.
place solid, by hands
In choice of place, set
Before the body of the mind
in space and time:
Solidity of bark, leaf, or wall
riprap of things:
Cobble of milky way,
straying planets
These poems, people,
lost ponies with
Dragging saddles
and rocky sure-foot trails.
The worlds like endless
four-dimensional
Game of Go.
ants and pebbles
in the thin loam, each rock a word
a creek-washed stone
Granite: ingrained
with torment of fire and weight
Crystal and sediment linked hot
all change, in thoughts,
As well as things.
— Gary Snyder
Gary Snyder at the University of Arizona Poetry Center, 2010
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Just Can’t Get Enough Desert Beauty 2 comments
Prickly Pear Cactus Blossom — Image by kenne
A rose, well, a rose was
just a prom queen standing still
for a photo. Mountain sunsets,
waterfalls, they were postcards to send
to good friends who trusted happiness
occurred, if at all, in other places.
— from the poem “Nature” by Stephen Dunn
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Bear Hugging Tree 2 comments
Bear Hugging Tree: Rattlesnake Picnic Area, Sabino Canyon — Images by kenne
A shade tree in the canyon
Paths lead to new beginnings —
Time to hug the tree.
Some stop to rest
most pass on by
Not getting a hug.
Some are easily distracted —
Control the distractions
To get their attention.
What you see
Is not what others see —
Point it out, don’t assume.
Mind flashes pictures
Changing focal points
Providing new perspectives.
— kenne
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“All Women Are Wounded” 1 comment
Kate and Jaxon — Image by kenne
All women are wounded
Who gather berries, dibble in mottled light.
Turn white roots from humus, crack nuts on stone
High upland with squinted eye
or rest in cedar shade.
Are wounded
In yurt or frame or mothers
Shopping at the outskirts in fresh clothes.
Whose sick eye bleeds the land,
Fast it! thick throat shields from evil,
you young girls
First caught with the gut-cramp
Gather punk wood and sour leaf
keep out of our kitchen.
Your garden plots, your bright fabrics
Clever ways to carry children
Hide
a beauty like season or tide,
sea cries . . .
— from “Praise for Sick Women” by Gary Snyder
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House On The Ridge Leave a comment
House On The Ridge — Image by kenne
Sky over the mountains
House on the ridge
Palo Verde blossoms
Reflect the setting sun
Two big trees
Make the house
Not one to be forgotten.
Minds wander over yonder
Wind-blown memories
Take to seed
Over the ridge
In words and images
Becoming desert fuel
Gone in the dry air.
Billions of years
In the making
Forming a place
Before there was a place
Traced through time
Having no meaning
Before time was time.
On the basin’s edge
Once torn apart
From the ancient upland
On a different continent
Possibly under water
Mocking the notion
Of permanence.
Existence has no meaning
Other than we are here
Attaching words
To what is evolving
In our concept
Of moments
Moving through space.
Sun has long set
Now in the darkness
The house on the ridge
No longer exist
Only in the mind’s eye
Becoming something
In our own nature.
— kenne
