Archive for the ‘French Quarter’ Tag
Decatur Street — French Quarter (2007) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
The Devil Wears French
In the diary of a sinner
there be a Toussaint
tainted with well too many overturesA colorful creole crayon
sashaying in a coupé de ville
Often times
snaking in wait at the nice bars
and gardens that belong to Eden
The women there be easy on the Jesus
Gumbo Genevieves smiling pretty
with their crests fallen like moon Indigo
and open to almost anything
especially a charmed tongue
Mon Chéri
it only cost a quarter for that French
Boyhood days in Eve’s bayou spent on
Bourbon street
becoming fluent in the devil’s language
A pig’s latin
the words tend to caress
Mon Chéri…
It only cost a quarter for that French
— Benjamin Welch
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Cathedral Alley, French Quarter — Photo-Artistry by kenne
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Place d’Armes Courtyard, French Quarter, New Orleans — Photo-Artistry by kenne
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French Quarter Carriage — Image by kenne
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Rouses Market, New Orleans — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Rouses Market is at the corner of St Phillip and Royal,
a block and a half from where we stayed,
Place D’Armes on St Annes.
— kenne
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Doors are for Opening (A Door In The French Quarter) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Doors are for Opening
My serious apprehension of being
Is freed by acts of becoming —
Through the task of opening doors,
Where I learn from the past,
Laugh at today’s mistakes, and
Dream about tomorrow.
— kenne
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Late June Afternoon On Bourbon Street — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Full of the profane
We walk this temporal street
Yet something sacred.
— kenne
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Johnny White’s Bar & Grill at the Corner of Bourbon & Orleans — Computer Art by kenne
“Light and music pour from doorways into the street,
here the carnival and there the quiet of candlelight.
A celebration of flesh, and an acknowledgement of the spirit.”
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Street Music In The French Quarter — Computer Art by kenne
Street celebrating
Party all day through the night
Fat Tuesday closure.
— kenne
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Doors are for Opening (A Door In The French Quarter) — Photo on Canvas by kenne
My serious apprehension of being
Is freed by acts of becoming —
Through the task of opening doors,
Where I learn from the past,
Laugh at today’s mistakes, and
Dream about tomorrow.
— kenne
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(CLICK ON ANY OF THE TILED IMAGES TO SEE LARGER VIEW IN A SLIDE SHOW FORMAT.)
Jackson Square, New Orleans (December 28, 2015) — Image by kenne
After hours joints have closed
The music has faded away,
Even the horn player
In front of the cathedral.
A new world takes over,
The night people lost in the fog
As if hiding from the light
And the people of the dawn.
In Jackson Square, the show goes on
With the new day, a new act
Enters from stage left and right,
Carrying their daily wares.
This ritual, old as the city,
Played out as people walk by,
Only briefly noticing a passing soul,
Neither greeting the other.
Protected by the levee
On the edge of the big muddy
Visitors a wait the man with the key
To open the Place d’Armes gates.
Entering the historical Jackson park
Gazing on “Old Hickory,”
Leading the 1815 charge
In the Battle of New Orleans.
For many morning walkers
Passing through the square,
Is only a route to Café Dumonde
For chicory coffee and beignets.
— kenne
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Morning In The New Orleans French Quarter — Computer Art by kenne
Showers over night
Reducing the body count —
Street casualties.
— kenne
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(CLICK ON ANY IMAGE TO SEE LARGER VIEW IN A SLIDESHOW FORMAT.)
James & Jill
Getting Ready for the Night Scene
Dancing to the beat.
Hello cutie!
I’m drawing a crowed!
An Old-Timer On The Street
I’ve been framed.
Bourbon Street Before The New Year’s Crowd — Image by kenne
New Orleans
Dancing
underneath city lights,
jazz bands
reverberating, breathing in
voodoo shop
musk.
Soul
pulsates beneath
cobblestone,
wide eyes
peering up at
beaded balconies on
Frenchman Street.
Freedom is
coffee and baguettes from
Cafe Du Monde at
midnight,
surrounded by strangers.
Find me under strings of
flickering bulbs,
trading trails with
travelers.
Candlelit doorways illuminate the drifters, the curious, the backpackers,the Kerouacs,
the way to the gypsies past
Bourbon.
But not home.
— MC Hammered
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Zydeco Washboard (frottoir) Player, James (French Quarter, December 27, 2014) — Images by kenne
Boudreaux had a flat tire,
pulled off on the side of the road,
and proceeded to put a bouquet of flowers
in front of the car and one behind it.
Then he got back in the car to wait.
A passerby studied the scene as he drove by,
and was so curious he turned around and went back.
He asked the fellow what the problem was.
The man replied, “I got a flat tahr.”
The passerby asked, “But what’s with the flowers?”
The man responded,
“When you break down they tell you to put flares in the front and flares in the back.
I never did understand it neither.”
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Shoot em Up, Texan! (French Quarter, December 27, 2014) — Image by kenne
It is scientifically proven that the sight of red makes you hungrier than any other color. For me, the sight of orange makes me want to drink more than any other color — and run in the other direction.
kenne
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