Archive for the ‘Existential Moment’ Tag

Coronavirus Time   3 comments

Kenne Self-protrate art blog IIIImage by kenne

I am an old man
Each day sheltering in place
The damage is done.

Early morning walks
Many new walkers pass by
No stopping to talk.

Coronavirus
Still on a stubborn plateau
We fight off the stress.

In a new normal
Public places restricted
Times are abnormal.

Zoom and Facetime
The way we stay connected
Your time is my time.

— kenne

A Pandemic Picture   3 comments

See ItImage by kenne

see this picture

a pandemic picture

not really

it’s not clear

so little information

not able to reason

observation void

or is it

some will reason

based on blind faith

indifferent to the truth

yet people believe

it is the truth

rather than asking

is it the truth

coronavirus exist

fed on indifference

to the truth

prompt with careless moods

minus the circumstances

left to question

only at death

a pandemic where

warriors stand

and truth died in

presidential updates

no longer accepting

only asking

is it the truth

— kenne

Dark In The Sunlight   1 comment

Maiden Pools Hike“Dark In The Sunlight” — Photo-Artistry by kenne

A late afternoon breeze

sunlight shines through

in the shadow

of the olive tree

telling me of the

dark in the sunlight

as the music plays

I watch you from afar

dancing on this spring day

the things I’ve held close

have moved on

as I circle

trying to get my being

out of the experience

into the movement of change

becoming dimly aware

of the moment —

whatever will be,

will be.

— kenne

 

 

 

Know When To Fold’em   2 comments

Fishing with Walker-72“Know When To Fold’em” — Source: Pinterest

“You’ve got to know when to hold ’em
Know when to fold ’em
Know when to walk away
And know when to run
You never count your money
When you’re sittin’ at the table
There’ll be time enough for countin’
When the dealin’s done”

— Kenny Rogers

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

24 to Harwood and Cropsy: No Road Back Home — #1   Leave a comment

Lummi & MCLACThomas R. Turner (May 23, 1942–November 13, 2014) — Photo-Artistry by kenne

This posting is the first of several I will be sharing from a long poem written by Tom
sometime around 1980 after his wife left him. Today is the fifth anniversary of his death.

24 to Harwood and Cropsy: No Road Back Home
(Taken from a Brooklyn Bus Route and the Title of a Blues Album.)

Standing above me in Smith's room 
Awkwardly looking down through a clipped hesitancy 
Our lives came together. 
TURNER 
With all the ambiguity that last name usage implies 
Was what she called me. 
Mannerisms of ingenuousness and a tendency toward the atypical 
Bespoke your ambiance  
                                     (Ineffably I wanted Her) 

That voice - 
Falsetto 
Laced in bursts of Peter's guffaws 
Seemed contrived with a dreamed-of authenticity.  

                                      (Your mouth, my love,the
                                       thistle in the kiss?) 

From within mutually cancelling 
Vignettes of naturalness and gender-cliche' 
She kissed through closed lips of 
Pristine openness. 
Innocently I loved. 

Through summer notes of vulnerability 
Together we embraced an entangled growth of uncertainty  

                                       (Our fictions were tempered in
                                        a painful and inward time) 

Desperate needs equivocated against ordained directions and 
Dead-end holdings of night-bakery-work. 
Even then yours wasn't other-directed but 
A need to keep the Self-absorption of your Ann Arbor soul on a 
Pedastal of conforming difference. 
Eliptically we lived in the interstices 
Between an illusion of  
Fulfillment and letters etched with 
"Know what?"

 

Tom Would Have Been 74 Today   3 comments

Tom Turner (1 of 1) art blogTom Turner in an Existential Moment — Image by kenne

“If thought corrupts language,
language can also corrupt thought.”

— George Orwell

He gazes through the 
rained soaked window
into his confused mind.

Lonely in the moment
turning his head away
from my open hand.

He was not prepared
to be rejected and
broken up by life.

— kenne

 

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