A Dead Saguaro in the Darkness of a Full Moon — Image by kenne
The Listeners
Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller, Knocking on the moonlit door; And his horse in the silence champed the grasses Of the forest’s ferny floor: And a bird flew up out of the turret, Above the Traveller’s head: And he smote upon the door again a second time; ‘Is there anybody there?’ he said. But no one descended to the Traveller; No head from the leaf-fringed sill Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes, Where he stood perplexed and still. But only a host of phantom listeners That dwelt in the lone house then Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight To that voice from the world of men: Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair, That goes down to the empty hall, Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken By the lonely Traveller’s call. And he felt in his heart their strangeness, Their stillness answering his cry, While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf, ’Neath the starred and leafy sky; For he suddenly smote on the door, even Louder, and lifted his head:— ‘Tell them I came, and no one answered, That I kept my word,’ he said. Never the least stir made the listeners, Though every word he spake Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house From the one man left awake: Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup, And the sound of iron on stone, And how the silence surged softly backward, When the plunging hoofs were gone.
Foggy Morning In New Orleans (December 2014) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Beauty in the Rain
If you fancy that you have an eye for beauty,
test it on a rainy day…
A cold and foggy day that wears no make-up.
Test it in the shades of gray
that consume the sun and rob the flowers of their colors,
leaving them forlorn in dingy places
like tired and aging ballerinas in faded dancing clothes;
huddling in the drafty wings of empty opera houses.
Gaze across the rooftops and the chimneys,
painted like Utrillo’s Paris
On the canvas of the smoke and fog
of a dying afternoon in winter.
It takes no eye for beauty
to find it on a lovely day.
It thrusts itself upon you
in the sunshine and the warm.
But it hides; becomes aloof, elusive
in the cold and in the rain.
Jackson Square Foggy Morning #2 — Photo-Artistry by kenne
you may see what I see doesn’t really matter to me I was there you were not the feeling exists without words still the painting may fill the void
with layers and filters
creating
a new
human touch —
if you can feel it.
A Jackson Square Morning — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Foggy Morning On The Square (Jackson Square) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Foggy Morning In Jackson Square — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Foggy Morning — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Foggy Morning In New Orleans (December 2014) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Jackson Square Foggy Morning #2 — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Foggy Morning In Jackson Square, New Orleans — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Foggy Morning (The Woodlands, Texas, March 2003) — Image by kenne
Foggy Morning Painted — Image by kenne
![Strawberry field forewer [Explore 2023-05-30 #1]](https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/52938290739_54fc88d448_s.jpg "Strawberry field forewer [Explore 2023-05-30 #1]")
Becoming is Superior to Being 